Play It
With Finesse, Part 2
by Stacey
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.
Saturday morning Victoria had to fight from laughing out loud when Peter came in whistling loudly while Nick was doggedly working his way through perhaps his third cup of coffee. Nick would have probably twirled his head to glare at his brother if he didn’t think it might twist right off, she thought rather unsympathetically. She knew a mother should be a little more caring but Nick was a grown man and knew what drinking too much would mean the next morning.
“Do you have to be so loud?” Nick grumbled at Peter as the younger brother took his place between Audra and Gene.
“Sorry, Nick,” Peter said just a touch louder than was necessary, making his older brother wince. “It’s just a BEAUTIFUL morning.”
Audra snickered as Nick rubbed his temple in response to Peter’s boisterous response. Nick did manage to glare at her but she just glared right back.
“Well, Audra,” Peter turned to his little sister. “Did you have a nice time last night?”
“Well, yes, I did, Peter,” she smiled at him. “And yours?”
“Very nice,” he nodded at her pleasantly. “Very profitable and, unlike our big brother, I managed not to overindulge and, therefore, will be able to enjoy this absolutely BEAUTIFUL day.”
Nick couldn’t stand it any more, “Hell, Pete, you drank just as much as I did. There’s no way that you can feel THAT good.”
Victoria sighed, “Nicholas, language, please.”
“I feel just fine, Nick. Sorry you can’t hold your liquor as well as I can,” Peter smirked.
“Don’t even go there, little brother,” Nick growled. “I hold my liquor just fine. This is just another one of those tricks of yours.”
“Yeah, right, Nick,” Peter taunted. “I wasn’t really drinking last night. I was using magic to make the liquor disappear.”
“That wouldn’t surprise me,” Nick shot back.
“Hey, you two,” Jarrod interrupted. “That’s enough arguing at the breakfast table.”
Peter snapped back, “Who died and made you God?”
The whole table fell silent as forks stopped in mid-air. Peter looked around in confusion. Then an irritated look flashed across his face, “Sacre-Dieu, I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.” When no one answered him, he continued, “It’s just one of my more irreverent phrases that I use when someone is overstepping his bounds of authority.”
Jarrod’s jaw was so tight that he had to force the words out, “I’m sorry that you feel that I’ve overstepped my bounds but, for many years, it’s been one of my tasks to try to keep peace at this table.”
“Look,” Peter dropped his fork on his plate, “I said I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. What are you all so touchy about anyway? He’s been dead eight years.”
Jarrod was so angry that he couldn’t get the words out. Nick was struggling not to leap out of his chair and deck his younger brother. Heath was looking everywhere but at Peter, and Gene’s face was masked with disappointment. None of them could look at their mother. Strangely, it was Audra who answered softly, “Some of us still miss him every day, Peter.”
Peter shook his head at her, “Look, I’m sorry I upset you all. Tell you what, I’ll go out to the tack room and clean all the tack. As I remember, that was one of his favorite punishments for me. Maybe that’ll be the appropriate penance for me upsetting the peace of this table.” With that, he stood, dropped his napkin beside his plate, and strolled out of the room.
For several long moments, those left at the table sat in pained silence. Finally, Nick growled, “I’m about two steps away from punching him out for his smart mouth, Jarrod.”
“Nick, please, no,” Victoria said softly, the pain evident in her voice. “It was just a flippant remark. He really didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Don’t defend him, Mother,” Nick argued. “He knew what he was saying, and he knew it would hurt everyone at this table.”
“I don’t think so,” she refused to believe that Peter could be so heartless.
“Haven’t you heard it? Anytime he talks about Father, it’s ‘the old man.’ And he only talks about the times that Father punished him. It’s like he refuses to allow himself to remember all the good times,” Nick’s temples were pounding furiously.
Victoria sighed, “Please, Nick. You can’t tell someone what memories to have. Please, children, for me, please forget what was said here.”
She knew that her request pained them all. They were not the kind of people who swept things aside. They had always faced problems, dealt with them. Now she was asking them to walk away from a very serious issue. And, because they were her children, they did as she asked. Slowly, with murmured excuses, they began to drift away from the table. She was the last to leave, taking one final sip of her coffee and laying her fork on the plate of food that had hardly been touched. She made her decision suddenly. She went upstairs, changed into her riding clothes, and put a few things in her saddlebags. Actually, they were Tom’s saddlebags. She had kept them all these years, one of the things she had not passed along to one of the boys. Jarrod was the only one she encountered as she walked toward the front door. He studied her face for a moment, but said nothing. Impulsively she reached up and kissed his cheek and he managed a half smile of encouragement. He knew where she was going.
As she crossed the yard, Victoria saw Nick and Heath preparing to ride out. She suspected that it was Heath who had gone in and gotten their tack. Nick would not have been able to face his brother. As she stepped through the barn toward the tack room, she composed what she was going to say to her son. She had been too careful for too many days. Today they would speak plainly, she decided. And if it caused Peter to leave them again, then she would accept that responsibility.
His back was to the door and he was humming softly. Obviously, his self-imposed punishment wasn’t too distressing for him, she thought grimly.
“Peter,” she reached out to touch his arm.
“Yes, ma’am,” his words were gentle, kind, respectful, but, when he turned to look at her, there was absolutely no emotion in his eyes.
“Peter, I have a favor to ask of you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’d like you to ride out with me today to tend your father’s grave.”
For the first time since her son had returned, Victoria saw an uncontrolled emotion cross his eyes. What was it, she wondered, sadness?, anger? But his voice was so carefully modulated when he spoke that she thought she might have been wrong, “Tending graves isn’t one of my general activities.”
“Would you please do it for me?” she asked.
She watched as Peter took a deep breath and let it out in a silent sigh. This time she could tell exactly what he was feeling. It was resignation. He would do as she asked but only because she asked it. “Yes, ma’am,” was all he said.
Silently he saddled her horse and one for himself and led them out of the barn. He held her horse as she mounted and then swung effortlessly into his saddle. He sat waiting for her to lead the way, so she clucked at her mare and turned her toward the ridge. Peter kept pace with her, riding a few yards behind her and off to her left. He never said a word. Well, two could play at that game, she thought grimly. She led him over the ridge and to the meadow, to the grove of trees where the three gravestones now stood. When Aaron had died, Tom had not wanted to bury him too close to the house. “I can’t see that little grave everyday, Victoria. I just can’t. The grove is a pretty spot. It’s close enough you can go out any time,” he had said. She had wanted her baby closer and had argued and lost. That was the first of many arguments that had occurred that spring. And then Tom had gone away, away to Strawberry. When he had finally returned, those many, many weeks later, still drawn and pale from the injuries he’d received in the beating, she had been so frightened, so frightened at what they had almost lost. And he had been so sad, he had apologized so many times for his angry words that spring. They both knew that their individual pain of losing Aaron had pushed them apart. And they had agreed that they had to share the pain if they were going to make things right between them. So, once a week, he had ridden with her out to the little gravesite and they had talked of many things, of the child they had lost, of the three boys who were growing so quickly, of the ranch, of all the other business opportunities, of their past, of their future.
There had been more hard times when she had the two miscarriages, but they had continued to talk, to hold onto each other. And then there had been the wonder of a new baby, a daughter, Audra. And then the surprise and the delight of a final son, dear sweet Eugene. And still they had made their weekly visits out here to the son whose tomorrows had been ripped away from them. When Tom had been killed, she knew that she had to bury him here, beside little Aaron. And then, when Jarrod’s Beth had been taken from them so brutally, no one ever expected that they would bury her anywhere but here. So, this grove of trees had become their family cemetery, neatly fenced, well taken care of, hallowed ground.
She pulled her horse up at the edge of the grove and Peter halted beside her. He was off his horse and holding hers in a flash. He was the gentleman she had always wanted him to be, she thought suddenly. She swung down and quietly asked him to bring her saddlebags after he took care of the horses. He murmured, “yes, ma’am” and did exactly as she requested. He took the canvas water pouch that she handed him and went down to the small creek to fill it. He carefully watered the three rosebushes as she pruned back the last wilting flowers of spring. She was just thinking that she was getting thirsty when Peter appeared beside her with her canteen in his hand. A gentleman, she thought again, observant, kind, thoughtful, but he probably would have done the same for a stranger.
As she finished with the rosebush beside baby Aaron’s grave, she glanced over to see Peter studying Beth’s headstone. “Jarrod’s wife,” she explained, her voice not much more than a whisper.
“Hmm,” Peter nodded his head slightly. After a long pause, he added, “Explains a lot.”
“What?” she studied Peter closely, wondering what he had seen, what he had felt.
“The sadness in his eyes,” he replied gently. “The distance he’s maintaining even from Nick. He’s hurting a lot.”
“Yes, he is,” she agreed. “It’s getting better, a little at a time, but he’s still grieving. He felt, he felt as if, when we buried Beth, we buried his life, too. The shock of it all almost destroyed him. But he’s strong, like all the Barkleys, and he’s slowly finding his way back.”
“Were they married long?”
“No,” and the gentlest of smiles graced her face, “only a few days. He’d met her on a train from Boston to Denver. When the train reached Denver, her destination, he got off with her. They were married the next day and he brought her home to us. They were here only two days when she was killed. But, the number of days doesn’t matter. Five days, five months, five years, twenty-seven years. It doesn’t matter, the love is the same, the loss is the same.”
For several moments, Peter seemed to be turning her words over in his head. Finally, he acknowledged, with just an air of wonder, “He must have loved her very much. For Jarrod, the solid, sensible one of us to act so impetuously. Well, it must have been true love.”
She nodded, “It was.”
“How did she die?”
“A man, a man who was seeking revenge against Jarrod, shot at Jarrod and hit her instead. She died instantly.”
Peter rocked back on his heels, “He blames himself then.”
“Of course he does, but it wasn’t his fault and he’s slowly letting himself believe that.”
Peter nodded again and then shrugged his shoulders, “Are you done?”
She squared her own shoulders and then resolutely shook her head, “Please sit down with me. I want to talk with you.”
He sighed deeply and remained standing, “Please, Mother. I said I was sorry for what I said at breakfast this morning. It was just smart remark, I didn’t mean to hurt Jarrod.”
“But you did hurt him, and it will take him time to get past that. Now sit down, Peter.”
Her voice had that tone he remembered so well. You were not to cross her. Sighing loudly, just to let her know he wasn’t particularly happy about this, Peter sat down in the grass beside her. She suddenly realized she wasn’t sure how to begin. Her eye fell on the smallest grave in the little cemetery.
“I don’t suppose you remember your brother Aaron. You were little more than a baby yourself when he died,” she said softly
“I think I remember standing beside your rocking chair and watching you rock him. I think I was a little jealous,” he replied.
“Actually, you did very good. Nick was much more jealous of you when you were born.”
“Does that explain why he was always beating on me?”
“Peter,” she chided, “you and Nick fought because you were always trying to best him not because of him being jealous of you. Nick was only jealous when you were first born. Once you were up big enough to play with, he was thrilled. He loved having a little brother to play with.”
“Actually, I think he loved having a little brother that he could push around.”
She recalled Nick’s words from this morning, how Peter didn’t seem to allow himself to remember the good times with his father. Peter seemed to also refuse to remember the wonderful times that he had had with Nick.
“It’s interesting the things that you remember from your childhood,” she started.
“I don’t remember much about Aaron but I do remember the arguments afterwards,” he said with an edge of bitterness.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I’m sorry that you remember those. Your father and I were both hurting so badly from losing the baby. We, we had been so blessed with you three boys and to suddenly have such tragedy thrust upon us. Neither of us knew how to deal with it and we fought the feeling of helplessness by striking out at each other.”
“He managed to find a way to ease his hurt, didn’t he, in Strawberry,” Peter watched her face closely.
She squared her shoulders and looked deep into her son’s eyes, “I’ll tell you the same thing that I told Heath. Your father was an imperfect man. But he was a good man. He loved his family and I think what happened in Strawberry made him realize just how fragile a family can be. He never knew he left a son in Strawberry, but he came back from there determined to hold together the family that he did know about.”
Peter studied her for a long moment and finally said, “Heath’s a good man. I’m glad he’s here now, where he belongs.”
“I am, too,” she said simply. She forced herself to continue, “I’m glad you brought up your father, because he’s the one I wanted to talk with you about.”
Her son tried to siderail the conversation, “I’m sorry he was killed. I know that you cared for him very much.”
“Yes, I did, but I want to talk about you and him.”
“Mother, please, let’s not dredge up all those bad memories,” Peter shook his head.
“Actually, I have some very wonderful memories of the two of you together, but what I really want to talk about is after you left.”
Peter just pressed his lips together tightly. Victoria continued, “Here, I want to show you something.”
She reached into the saddlebag and drew out a small frame. She handed it to Peter who frowned when he saw the picture. It was himself as a young teenage boy, but he knew that he had never had such a picture taken. She answered the question in his eyes, “Your father had the picture made from the family picture.”
“The one that’s on the piano,” Peter recalled.
“I keep out the last one that we had with you in it, the last one we have with your father, and our most recent family picture,” she explained. “Those are the ones that are most important to me.”
“I see,” he murmured.
“You father had the picture that you’re holding made from the family picture,” she repeated. “He took it with him to San Francisco and went to the wharf, looking for you, looking for someone who might have seen you.”
“I told him in my note not to come after me, that I was going to sea,” Peter snapped.
“Yes, you told him that but he was your father and he was going to look for you no matter what,” she said firmly. “He quickly accepted that he was too late to stop you, that you had indeed managed to find someone who would allow a child to sign on to work aboard a ship.”
“I wasn’t a child,” Peter interrupted.
“Yes, you were,” she replied hotly. “You were only 14. And it was wrong for whoever took you on to allow you to make such a decision. You should have been refused the job.”
“Oh, Mother,” Peter argued, “there were many boys my age and younger working aboard those ships. No one paid any mind to how old you were. I was agile, strong and healthy. I had no problems finding a job. Besides, I told the captain I was 16 and he accepted what I said.”
Victoria studied him for a moment, knowing what he said was true, “Your father said you would have done that, lied about your age, and because you had just had a growth spurt that they may have believed you. He kept hoping it was a short voyage, that you would return to San Francisco soon, so he would go back every few weeks those first two years to check for you. He got to know all the vendors near the wharf and he made it a point to show your picture often in hopes that they would recognize you.”
“But it was never my intention to come back,” he shook his head. “He shouldn’t have wasted his time.”
“It is never a waste of time to look for your child, to worry about him,” she barely contained her anger with him. “Your father thought about you every day until the day he died.”
“Ah, Mother,” Peter started to argue with her.
She refused to be interrupted, “The year before he was killed he ran into some sailors in San Francisco who said they thought they had seen you two years before . . . in a port on the African coast. That they had been with you in a brawl in a saloon or whatever they’re called there. That you had handled yourself well and had made it through the fight without a scratch.”
Peter chuckled softly, “Well, there’s a distinct possibility that they really did see me. The timeframe is right and I did manage to find myself in a few fights. I’m sure that my being in a fight in a bar irritated him to no end.”
“Actually,” Victoria said coolly, “he was very relieved. He told me that obviously you were taking care of yourself well. He was so, so worried, when you first ran off. He was so concerned about what might happen to you, aboard a ship. He said you were a young, good-looking boy and, sometimes, that things happened to boys.”
She stopped, suddenly embarrassed about the turn in the conversation. She had been horrified when Tom had first whispered his deepest concerns for his young son. She had no awareness of such things, of how some men might use a boy that way.
Peter allowed his anger to flare for a moment, “It would have been nice if he had warned me about such things.”
She defended her husband immediately, “He had no idea that you would ever be at risk. He fully expected you to be with us until you were grown, until you were able to protect yourself. He saw no need to tell you about such things, not as long as he was there to protect you.”
“Well, not to worry,” Peter said a little grimly. “I figured things out very quickly and I was always able to protect myself. I learned to sleep with a knife in my hand.”
“Oh, Peter,” her heart broke a little for her child. He had seen so much that she and Tom had wanted to protect him from. Her eyes fell on the picture that Peter still held. The picture told it all, he had indeed been just a child, her golden boy. She gathered her strength and reached out to touch the picture, “The stains, the stains on the frame are your father’s blood. He was carrying the picture the day he was killed.”
“But he wasn’t going to San Francisco,” he blurted out.
She looked up into his eyes, the eyes so much like Tom’s, “He carried your picture every day.”
And Peter blanched. For the first time she saw a true emotion in her son’s face. That knowledge, the knowledge that his father had indeed thought of him every day, the knowledge that his father had hurt every day that he was gone, had finally touched him. But, in a second, he shut out that thought and quipped, “Well, it’s too bad that the frame didn’t stop at least one of the bullets. Then it would have been worth him carrying the picture all those years.”
She knew instantly that he had sought to make her angry with his remark, to push her away from him. She shocked him when she reached out to caress his cheek, “You can say whatever you want but you can’t take away the fact that he loved you.”
Victoria slipped her arm around Peter’s neck and hugged him. She felt a slight tremor in his body and he managed to put a stiff arm around her. She whispered into his neck, “I’m glad you came here to see us all. It was good to know that you’re all right, that you’re doing well. I only wish your father had been here. It would have made him so happy.”
He gently pushed her away and murmured, “I feel like maybe I’ve overstayed my welcome. Maybe it’s time for me to move on.”
“No,” she said with calm certainty, “please stay tonight and go to the social. Dance with Audra. It will make her so happy.”
“All right, I’ll do that,” he reluctantly agreed.
“And perhaps church tomorrow morning,” she pushed for one more concession.
He winced, “Church?”
“Yes, it would be wonderful for me to have all my children together in church just one time,” she started to push herself up, but he was on his feet instantly, offering her his hand. A gentleman, she thought again. “Church Sunday morning and Sunday dinner. That’s all I ask of you. After that, you go when you feel you must, but stay as long as you want. This is your home.”
Later, when they arrived back at the house, she realized that he hadn’t agreed, but then he hadn’t disagreed either. She had gone back up to the house to change from her riding clothes and begin her household duties, Peter had taken care of the horses and grinned and winked at her and said, “I still have lots of tack to clean.” She knew he would stay down at the barn for the majority of the day. But that was all right. She knew he would be with them one more day.
Even as she twirled around the dance floor in Mike Pratt’s careful embrace, Audra’s eyes sought out her brothers. They were all there, all five of her brothers. Heath, Nick, and Gene were all dancing; Jarrod was standing chatting with Judge Fairclough; and Peter was leaning against a doorframe surveying all the activities with a half smile on his face. She knew many of the single women at the social were in a tizzy with the addition of another handsome Barkley brother. There were many people at the social, mostly married couples, who remembered Peter. Some had gone to school with him. He had shaken hands with any number of them, but he always shook his head and apologized that he was sorry he didn’t remember them. It had been too many years, too many other names and faces to remember outside the valley, he offered as explanation.
Peter hadn’t danced yet, though. She had heard a part of a conversation between him and Jarrod, just before Mike had picked her up. Peter had apparently apologized to Jarrod again for his poor choice of words at breakfast this morning. Jarrod had murmured “apology accepted,” but then had gone on to ask that his younger brother please watch his behavior at the social tonight. “After all,” Jarrod had said, “these are the wives and daughters of our friends and neighbors. Please treat them with respect.” Audra wondered if that was why Peter wasn’t dancing with any of the young women who were batting their eyes at him. Then she had another sad thought. Perhaps Peter had forgotten how to dance. Maybe in all his years at sea and in all his travels, he’d never had a chance to practice the skills he’d learned as a boy. Her heart ached for him. Her pain must have shown in her eyes when she looked back his way, because his brow furrowed in question. Then Mike twirled her toward the other side of the dance floor and she lost sight of Peter.
The song ended and they politely applauded. Just as the band was ready to start the next set, Peter appeared at their side. “Mike, I believe I owe my little sister a dance this evening. Do you mind if I have the next one with her?”
“Not at all, Peter,” Mike placed Audra’s hand into her brother’s. “I know I have to give her up to her brothers for at least one dance each.”
The music started and Peter very properly placed one hand on her waist and offered the other hand for her to hold. But after she placed one hand in his and laid the other on his shoulder, he didn’t move.
“Peter?” she whispered in concern.
“Are you going to stand on my boots?” he asked politely.
She laughed in a very unladylike manner and swatted his shoulder, “No, I’m not. I know how to dance now. Do you want to stand on mine?”
He grinned broadly and shook his head, “No, I don’t think that’s necessary. Let’s just dance like ordinary people.”
He then gently but firmly began to guide her through the steps. After a few moments, she smiled at him and said, “You dance very well.”
“Why, thank you, little sister, I was just going to say the same thing to you,” he dipped his head at her. “So how do I compare with your other brothers?”
“All my brothers are good dancers,” she said proudly, as if she were the one responsible for that, “but they all dance differently.”
“How so, little sister?” Peter asked.
“Jarrod is very polished, he always follows the steps exactly as they should be done, he holds you at just the right distance and he makes very polite conversation. There are no real surprises but you always feel good when the dance is over as if you’ve done something to make him proud,” Audra ticked through her brothers. “Nick is so unpredictable. You have to watch him all the time because he’ll change the steps on you. But he says the funniest things and you just laugh and have such a wonderful time with him. Heath is still a little shy about dancing so he never does anything that will make him standout, but he always makes you feel so special when you’re with him. Gene knows all the steps and the right things to say but he’s still a little unsure about himself. He’ll be much better when he gains a little more self-confidence.”
Peter chuckled at the way his little sister had so aptly described her brothers. She was talking about their dancing but she could have been talking about how they approached almost anything. She was a very astute young woman, he realized. “And what of me, little sister? How would you describe me?” he teased.
She frowned slightly and studied him for a moment before she answered, “You’re much like Jarrod in that you are very confident, very sure of yourself. You dance almost effortlessly, like you have to give it no thought whatsoever, but there’s just this air of recklessness, that at any moment you just might sweep a girl right off her feet. It’s that not knowing if and when you’ll do something that makes you so charming.”
“Charming, am I?” he smirked just a little. She’d not called any of her other brothers charming.
“Yes, you are, in a devilish sort of way,” she acknowledged easily. She glanced away from his face for a moment and looked toward where their mother stood talking with friends. Victoria’s smile lit up her entire face as her eyes met Audra. Audra smiled back, thoroughly happy that she was dancing with her long absent brother. She suddenly said, “Oh, you need to be sure to dance with Mother tonight.”
“Really,” Peter hadn’t considered that. Victoria had just said to dance with Audra.
“Um-huh, all the boys dance one dance with Mother,” she explained. “They’re the only ones she’ll dance with but she only wants one dance with each of them.”
“That’s all she dances?” Peter seemed surprised.
“That’s all, why?”
“Oh, I just remember when I was young she and the old man hardly ever sat out a set,” Peter shrugged. “I always got the impression that she loved to dance.”
“Oh, I know,” Audra whispered. “When Father was killed, she stayed in mourning for such a long time. She insisted that the boys and I do things socially, but she refused. She said she just couldn’t think of going to a dance without Father. It was years before she did and then only at the urging of her friends. Jarrod talked her into dancing a dance with him; he told her that she had taught him to dance and that she needed to occasionally check to see if he was doing all right. She agreed but said she would only dance one dance with him. He needed to dance with his friends, she insisted. And after that Nick would always ask her for one dance. When Gene got up old enough to come to dances, he always insisted that she had to dance one with him. And when Heath came to us, when he began to call her ‘Mother’ he started asking her for one dance also. But everyone else knows not to ask her. She won’t dance with anyone else.”
“Hmm,” Peter pondered this for a moment. He realized that Gene and Heath had already claimed their dances with her. He had seen them and wondered about it. “So do you think she’ll dance with me?”
Audra looked at him as if he were crazy. “Of course she will, you fool,” she snapped. “It’s probably something she’s thought about ever since Jarrod and Nick started dancing with her.”
Their dance was over and Peter did a polite little bow over her hand before he gave her back to Mike, “Thank you for the dance, little sister.”
“Thank you, big brother,” she smiled back at him.
Peter returned to his lounging position at the edge of the room, speaking politely when he was spoken to but initiating no conversations. He ignored the looks that were thrown his way by countless young women and girls. He was sure enough of his suave charm that he felt certain that he could have danced with any woman in this room, probably done much more with most of them. But that knowledge gave him no particular thrill. That wasn’t why he was here. He waited a few more songs and then saw Nick start across the dance floor toward their mother. Nick had already asked her and taken her hand when he reached their side.
“If we’re doing this by age, Nick, then this should be my dance,” he laid a gentle hand on his brother’s shoulder.
Nick looked from Peter to their mother and back. Victoria’s eyes were shining brightly, and Peter was smiling one of their father’s teasing smiles. “Sure, little brother,” Nick transferred her hand to Peter’s. “Just be sure you don’t step on her toes. I don’t want her limping when it’s my turn.”
Peter laughed softly, “I’ll do my best, Nick.”
“Well,” Victoria smiled as Peter guided her carefully through the dance steps, “this is a very special evening for me. I get to dance with all my sons.”
“Well, that can be good or bad depending on how well they dance,” Peter grinned at her.
“All my sons are good dancers,” she said, having no idea how much she sounded like her daughter.
“So Audra told me,” Peter chuckled. “She gave me a full rundown on the dancing capabilities of all her brothers.”
“Do you really not remember teaching her to dance?” Victoria studied her son’s face closely.
“Sorry, sure don’t,” Peter shrugged his shoulders.
“Your father and I watched you from his office. It was so sweet. You used my music box for your music and you had Audra stand on your boots and you waltzed her so carefully around the parlor,” Victoria’s eyes misted as the memory floated through mind. She had leaned back into Tom’s arms and they had swayed to the music as they watched their two golden-haired children glide around the parlor.
“I remember the music box,” Peter said gently, hoping that helped a little.
“I would hope so, it was around the whole time that you were growing up. Your father gave it to me after Jarrod was born.”
“A reward for providing him an heir?” it was said a little grimly.
But she laughed softly and shook her head, “No, he always said I gave him such wonderful presents when I showed him our newest child that he just felt like he needed to give me something in return. Of course, he wasn’t there when Jarrod was born, so I think he was also trying to soothe his guilt a little. Then it just became a tradition.”
“So, the music box when Jarrod was born. What about the rest of us?”
“A new horse when Nick was born.”
Peter barked a laugh, “How appropriate! Or maybe how inappropriate! I don’t know which.”
“You remember Rob Roy. He was a wonderful horse. It was a wonderful present.”
“Me?”
“A beautiful cameo. I wear it most Sundays. For Aaron, it was a gold necklace. I can’t wear that. It hurts just a little too much. I get it out on his birthday and hold it then,” her voice trembled a little and Peter unconsciously held her a little closer. But her voice was strong when she continued, “For Audra, it was this beautiful ruby necklace, and for Gene, these matching earrings.”
“Very nice,” he complimented her.
“Thank you, kind sir,” she smiled up at him. “Oh, and thank you for the wonderful dance.” The music ended and she regrettably dropped his hand. But he was a gentleman and he offered her his arm and escorted her across the room to where Jarrod and Nick stood talking with Judge Fairclough.
“Albert,” Victoria greeted the judge happily. “It’s good to see you. You’re so often gone to Sacramento these days.”
“It’s wonderful to be back at Stockton and good to see all these fine folks. Unfortunately, my trip was not precipitated by the best of events,” the judge replied. “I was just telling Jarrod and Nick that I came down to check on Howard Everett. He was beaten and robbed last night.”
“Oh, my, no,” Victoria was shocked. “Is he going to be all right?”
“Yes, fortunately, he should recover fully,” the judge continued. “It was a very close call. He told me that he thought that one of the men wanted to kill him but another one stopped him, saying that if there was a killing that the sheriff would only look for them harder. They just knocked him out and left him bound and gagged. His housekeeper found him this morning.”
“What did they take?” she asked.
The judge rocked back and forth on his heels for a moment, “Well, it’s rather of a sensitive nature.” He studied Peter for a moment as if he wasn’t sure whether he should continue.
“Um, Judge, this is my younger brother, Peter. Peter grew up here in the valley but left for a life on the high seas as a very young man,” Jarrod tried to paint Peter’s running away in the best light possible. “He’s back for his first visit in many, many years. Peter, this is Judge Albert Fairclough, a longtime friend of the family.”
“Peter,” the judge offered the young man his hand. He would have known that this was Tom Barkley’s son in a heartbeat. He had been a little afraid that this one might also be the result of another of Tom’s indiscretions. He had always been amazed at Victoria’s decision to take in Heath. He had often wondered how things would have gone had Tom still been alive.
“Judge Fairclough, it’s an honor, sir,” Peter returned the firm handshake and inclined his head slightly in deference to the judge’s position. A perfect gentleman, his mother thought. “I’m glad to hear that, who was it, Mr. Everett was not seriously hurt. You were saying that the theft was of a sensitive nature.”
“Yes, I’m sure Jarrod and Nick remember what happened last year when they were moving the coin dies from Washington to the mint in San Francisco,” the judge started.
“It was a bloodbath,” Nick said angrily. “Someone tried to take over the special train. What, ten, twelve men killed.”
“Twelve,” the judge nodded. “The theory was that someone in Mexico had paid for the raid in the hopes of capturing the dies and then using them to press alloy coins. It was a way to pump up the Mexican treasury. This year, the decision was made to try a different approach to moving the dies to California. A series of very trusted private citizens carried the dies very discretely across country. Howard was the last of these couriers. To make his movements seem normal, he was to travel from his daughter’s in Denver to his home here and then in a few days make a trip to his son’s in San Francisco. There he would have delivered the dies.”
“And someone found out,” Victoria surmised.
“Indeed,” the judge sighed heavily. “Please understand that not many people know what has happened. We’re concerned about a panic. I thought it might be good to let you all know, I mean, I was hoping that you could keep your eyes open, to see if there are any strangers in town. The sheriff seems to think that the robbers have already left the area, but some of the federal marshals seems to thing that they may still be in the area. I don’t know who to believe.”
“Any leads on who the robbers might be?” Peter asked.
“Not really. They were wearing masks when they broke into Howard’s. He said they were all dressed as cowboys and he heard no accents. They were very accomplished robbers. They slipped into and out of his house without anyone seeing or hearing anything. They apparently split up as they reached the edge of town. Trails went off in all directions. We’re surmising that whoever is behind all this hired a gang to do the robbery and deliver the dies to perhaps a middleman. And there must be an insider, someone who knew the exact route for the dies. I don’t suppose you’ve noticed any strangers around town?”
Peter smiled easily, “I’ve been gone so long that everyone is a stranger to me. My brothers would be a much better source of information.”
The judge nodded, “Jarrod? Nick? Notice anything unusual the last few days?”
Anything unusual? It was all Nick could do to keep from laughing out loud. No, nothing unusual, Judge, he thought, except my little brother who ran away 14 years ago shows up out of the blue and turns the whole family on its ear. But don’t worry, Judge, I’m sure it has nothing to do with that robbery. After all, Peter was with me and Heath last night. Couldn’t be out robbing old man Everett. But all he said out loud was, “Sorry, Judge, haven’t seen anything, but we’ll keep our eyes open.”
Almost as if he could read Nick’s mind, Peter gave his brother a teasing half smile. Nick just shrugged, and Peter politely excused himself to get some punch. He resumed his careful perusal of the room. By now, Nick was dancing with their mother and she was laughing at his teasing. It wouldn’t be long before Jarrod would claim his dance. It would be then that Peter would need to stir the pot a little. The family was being just a little too content with his presence. His eyes scanned the room. Ah, yes, that one, the bold little brunette who had been sending teasing looks his way all evening, she would do fine. He gave her a small smile and raised his eyebrow slightly. Her eyes had widened and her face pinked in expectation of him asking her to dance. But he didn’t come across the dance floor after this dance or the next. So Livvy Anne Baxter made the move for him.
“Well,” she demanded as she stood in front of him. “Aren’t you going to ask me to dance? I know you can dance. I saw you dancing with your sister and your mother.”
He cocked his head and studied her for a moment, waiting for the music to start. Ah, excellent, he had correctly established the band’s song rotation and the girl’s reaction time. “A waltz,” he smiled at her. “I so enjoy a good waltz. What about you?”
Livvy Anne proudly took the hand that he had extended to her. “Oh, waltzes are all right. Maybe a little old fashion,” she pretended she wasn’t absolutely thrilled to be the one dancing with him.
“Oh, now, that’s the thing about waltzes. They can be danced so many ways. You know, they’re like making love,” he paused as her eyes widened in shock. He was sure no man had ever said those words in front of her. “It can either be perfunctory or it can be done so that it is absolutely breath-taking.”
And with that he changed the tempo of their dance, sweeping her around the dance floor in huge twirls. He knew that people were watching them; that was his plan. By the time he had finished the dance, she was gazing at him in complete adoration, her face flushed from the exertion of the dance. When he asked her if she’d like to go out and get a breath of fresh air, she had, of course, agreed. He couldn’t have scripted it better, he thought, as he led her out, well aware of his big brother Jarrod’s glare.
The ride home was incredibly quiet, Peter thought. Mike was just dropping Audra off when their entourage pulled into the ranch yard. Peter grinned broadly as he saw his mother gesture to Jarrod to pull their buggy up beside the barn. She waited until all the boys had put their horses up and then walked them back to the house at a sedate pace. Mike was just pulling away from the house and gave them a friendly wave and a big smile. Peter chuckled softly; Mike had probably gotten a really good kiss goodnight from Audra. Their mother had ensured that the young couple at least had a little privacy.
His chuckle brought him a glare from both his older brothers. Jarrod and Nick sure were riled, he fought the smile bubbling up inside of him. Audra was still in the entry way when they stepped through the door. She greeted them all happily, but her smile did nothing to wipe the grim looks off of Nick’s and Jarrod’s faces.
“It’s time to go on up to bed, Audra,” Victoria directed her daughter.
“You, too, runt,” Nick ordered Gene.
“Ah, Nick,” Gene started to argue.
“Go on, Gene,” Jarrod’s voice brooked no argument. “Church tomorrow.”
“All right,” Gene grumbled and started up the stairs behind his sister. The two youngest siblings exchanged an exasperated look. Something was going to happen and they were being excluded.
Nick walked into the parlor and began pouring whiskey. He purposely only poured a glass for himself and then stalked away. Peter could almost see the anger radiating off of Nick as he paced the floor. This was going to be good, Peter let a small smile slip through which only served to raise Nick’s ire.
Victoria automatically followed her four oldest sons into the parlor. She was shocked when Jarrod virtually dismissed her with a “Goodnight, Mother.” One look into his eyes, however, convinced her she should step out so that the brothers could deal with this.
“Goodnight, son,” she replied automatically and accepted his soft kiss on her cheek. Heath’s kiss was gentle as always, but Nick barely broke his glare at Peter to bend down and kiss her forehead. Peter’s eyes, however, were dancing mischievously as he also kissed her forehead and sent her from the room with a wink. What was that boy up to, she thought. She started up the stairs but stopped on the landing, hoping she could hear the exchange between the brothers.
Heath stayed behind. He wasn’t sure why. Certainly, this was something best handled by Nick and Jarrod. They were the ones who had grown up with Pete; they were the ones who knew him. Part of him thought he might have to pull Nick off of Pete. He was sure that, no matter what had happened this evening, the last thing that Mother wanted was for Nick and Pete to get into a fight.
“What did you do to that girl?” Nick stopped pacing and glared at Peter.
Peter studied his older brother for a moment and replied softly, “Nothing.”
It was Jarrod who answered, “Don’t tell us that, Peter. We all saw that girl’s face when you came back inside. What did you do?”
“Nothing, Jarrod,” Peter insisted. “I didn’t do anything.”
“That’s a load of crap, Pete,” Nick snapped. “That girl was mighty upset about something and I want to know what you did.”
“I keep telling you, I didn’t do anything,” Peter shook his head.
“Listen, Peter,” Jarrod tossed back the drink that he had just poured himself. “I have a feeling that that girl’s father is going to be on our doorstep tomorrow morning and I’m going to have to deal with him. I want to know what happened when you two went outside.”
“I did not do anything.”
“Dammit, Pete,” Nick shouted. “Just answer the damn question.”
“WHAT PART OF ‘I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING’ DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND, NICHOLAS?”
Victoria had almost decided to go on upstairs when the voice thundered through the house. It was Tom’s voice; those were Tom’s words. But, of course, they couldn’t be. As Peter had said, Tom had been dead for eight years, eight long years. It was Peter’s voice, Peter’s words. But those words, said in that voice, were enough to stop Nick’s shout.
In the parlor, Nick rocked back on his heels, thoroughly shocked by his younger brother’s outburst. Heath fought a grin back – he’d never expected anybody to out shout Nick. Jarrod’s only thought was “he’s seeing Father standing there and he doesn’t know what to say.”
“I don’t understand,” Jarrod rescued Nick. “That girl was obviously upset when you came back in. You must have done something . . . something in the way you kissed her . . . something in the way you touched her.”
“I didn’t kiss her,” Peter started.
“”You didn’t kiss her!” Nick had finally found his voice. “What do you mean you didn’t kiss her? Why the hell else did you walk her outside?”
“To get some fresh air? To cool down after a rather spirited dance?” Peter suggested calmly.
Heath snickered and Nick nailed him with a hard look. He was getting the impression that Heath was only here for the entertainment . . . or to protect Peter.
“Why the hell didn’t you kiss her?” Nick demanded again.
“Several reasons.”
Jarrod waited for Peter to continue but the seconds slipped by, so finally he prompted, “What reasons?”
The corners of Peter’s month turned up as he enjoyed manipulating even his oldest brother, “Well, for one thing, it’s what you expected me to do and I generally like to NOT do what people expect.”
“Ain’t nothing’s changed there,” Nick mumbled.
“And,” Peter ignored the interruption, “it was just too complicated.”
Again Jarrod waited for Peter to continue and again Peter outwaited him, forcing Jarrod to ask, “Too complicated?”
“Oh, my God, yes,” Peter waved a hand in the air. “The whole kiss thing. I mean just what is proper? A gentle brushing of the lips? Or a firm pressing? Do you even consider nibbling that pouty lower lip that’s just begging to be nibbled? And if you do nibble, do you go on to taste those sweet lips with your tongue? And do you even consider parting those lips, tasting her whole mouth, letting her know what a kiss is really supposed to be like.”
His three brothers stood in shocked silence so he continued on, “And should you abandon her mouth and touch your lips to that long slender neck, nibbling just a little on that sensitive spot just below her ear, letting your kisses mark a path to the hollow at the base of her neck where you again let your tongue taste of her skin?”
Peter almost laughed out loud as Heath’s blush moved from his neck to his ears. He continued brutally, “And what of your hands? Gently hold her at the waist only? Or should you slide one hand to the small of back and let your fingers find her spine beneath the edges of her corset? Do you press there just slightly or do you let your fingers travel up, counting the fragile bumps in her spine all the way up to her neck? Do you cup her neck with your hand so that you can secure an even deeper kiss? And what of your other hand? Do you leave it at her waist or do you let it slide around front and up over the stiff whalebones until you find that incredibly soft skin above?”
None of his brothers had tried to interrupt him, but Peter figured Jarrod would snap out of his daze in any moment so he decided to wind things up, “And then there’s the whole issue of how close do you hold her? Where there’s daylight between you? Or just close enough that you can feel the fluttering of her breathing? Or do you pull her tight against you so that she can feel just how very much you like her?”
He’d pushed Jarrod too far at that point. The oldest brother barked, “Peter!”
“So you can see, my brothers, why I didn’t kiss her. The rules are just far too complicated,” Peter shrugged. “I just avoided the whole situation.”
“Well, well, if you didn’t kiss her, howcum she was so damn upset?” Nick managed to sputter out.
“I expect because she wanted to be kissed and I didn’t kiss her,” Peter smiled. “That often is what really angers women.”
Victoria knew from the long silence that the conversation had ended and that Peter would be coming upstairs in just a moment. She did not want Peter to know she had overheard his entertaining but rather bawdy defense. She lifted her skirt and started up the stairs. That’s when she realized that both her youngest children were hanging over the upstairs banister, listening to every word that had been said. “Audra, Eugene, go to your rooms right now,” she scolded.
The two exchanged embarrassed smiles and darted off to their respective bedrooms. Embarrassed for having heard what Peter had described? Embarrassed for being caught by their mother? She suspected it was the latter. As Victoria slipped into her room, she heard one set of footsteps come up the stairs and the door of Peter’s room open and close.
As Peter walked up the stairs, he heard Nick tell Heath, in an all too blatant attempt to change the subject from Peter’s dissertation on kissing, “Say, Heath, Judge Fairclough was telling us at the dance that old man Everett got robbed last night. Seems that he was part of some secret relay to move the coin dies from Washington to the San Francisco mint. Somehow somebody found out and stole them from him. Judge asked us if we’d seen anything strange.”
“Haven’t really seen anything unusual,” Heath searched his mind for anything out of the ordinary over the last few days.
“Yeah, I told the judge that,” Nick sipped down on his drink. “I’m glad Pete was with us last night. He’s the only stranger who’s been around. People would probably be suspecting him except we know where he was.”
“Yep, you’re right, Nick,” Heath was glad that Nick had been too drunk to notice that Pete hadn’t ridden back with them. Heath knew Pete had been with Gene, but he sure didn’t want to explain THAT to Nick and Jarrod.
“Well, I’m going on to bed,” Jarrod announced. “It’s been a very interesting evening.”
“That it has,” Nick agreed, “but it was always that way when Pete was around. You going on up, Heath?”
“Well, I guess so,” Heath replied. “I was kinda considering if I needed to go out and take a cold shower after Pete’s little discussion about what’s proper and what’s not.”
All three brothers shook their heads and smiled, and by silent accord they turned down the lamps and went upstairs.
After he heard the last of his brothers head off to bed, Peter stepped to his wardrobe and pulled out his valise. Just looking at it, no one would suspect anything; however, if you lifted it, you’d be shocked at the weight. Smiling to himself, Peter lifted up the false bottom just to assure himself that the cloth-wrapped packages were still there. Satisfied that his cargo was still safe, Peter closed the valise and set it back in the wardrobe. Two more days, only two more days, he thought as he disrobed and slid into bed. Surely he could keep the charade up that much longer.
Sunday morning dawned incredibly clear; it promised to be a very warm day. Peter arrived at the breakfast table dressed in his one suit. He’d put on his flashy vest, but Audra curtly informed him, “That’s just not acceptable for church.”
“But I like this vest, Audra,” Peter pretended to be offended.
“Well, it’s just not the proper thing to wear to church,” she replied. “You just need to take it off and leave it here.”
He sat looking at her for a few moments, “Have you always been this bossy or did I just forget that aspect of your personality?”
“I’ve always told my brothers what looks good and what doesn’t,” she said not the least bit ashamed.
Peter gave in easily and left the vest in his room. As usual, Jarrod drove Victoria and Audra, and Peter joined the other brothers as they trotted their horses beside the carriage to town. When they reached the church, Peter circulated easily, nodding and responding to greetings from those he’d met the evening before. As they entered the church, Peter skillfully maneuvered things so that he sat between Gene and Audra with Heath on the other side of Audra and Nick, Victoria, and Jarrod filling out the pew. Peter saw Victoria hesitate for a moment before she sat down. He could almost read her mind, she was proud to have all her children in church this morning. He reflected once again how easy it was to please some members of his family. Also, how easy it was to use them all. They were such trusting people.
As Peter and Gene sat down, Peter picked up a conversation that they had started on the ride in. “Don’t see any clouds out that window, do you, Gene?” Peter whispered.
Gene leaned back so that he could look out the window. “Still don’t see any. Why are you so worried about clouds?” Afraid of a little rain?”
“Hell, no,” Peter whispered back but not so quietly that Mrs. Varney couldn’t hear him. She turned and gave him a sharp look, and Peter smiled an apology. He whispered more quietly, “It’s just that my presence in a church. I’m not sure. It might conjure up a bolt of lightning from God.”
“Peter!” Audra scolded, drawing a glare from Mrs. Varney.
“Audra, I’m just thinking of your wellbeing,” Peter whispered back, sincerity dripping from his voice.
“Oh, sure, Pete,” Gene teased, “thinking of Audra but not about me.”
“Ah, Gene, I was thinking about you. I was thinking about the whole family, the whole congregation. But, you know, it’s a proven fact that if lightning hits me it’s going to also get the person to my right and that’s, well, that’s Audra.”
“What?” Gene said a little too loudly, earning him a Mrs. Varney glare.
“Truth, Gene, scientific fact.”
“Really?” Audra’s eyes were wide.
“Yep,” Peter said firmly but very softly. “Fact.”
Gene hesitated for a moment, “I don’t think that’s true.”
“You’re doubting me, Gene?” Peter pretended to be hurt.
“I’m just saying I’ve never heard this theory that lightning will travel to the person on the right.”
“So just because you haven’t heard it, then it must not be true?” Peter replied.
“No, but I just can’t see how scientifically lightning would know to go to the right or the left.”
“Well, I guess we’ll just wait and see when the bolt of lightning comes, which one of you gets taken out with me.”
“Peter,” Audra scolded again, “what an awful thought. Besides God should be pleased that you are in church.”
“I don’t know, Audra. I think there’s this whole violating the sanctity of the church thing that I might be pressing my luck on here.”
“Peter, you’d have to be really bad to violate the sanctity of the church,” she whispered.
“I’m pretty bad, Audra,” Peter replied. “Just ask Nick and Jarrod.”
She giggled and started to answer him but a nudge by Heath distracted her. Heath leaned over and whispered into her ear, “Mother says for you three to be quiet.”
Audra glanced past Heath and Nick to where Victoria sat. The look on her mother’s face made her straighten her spine and whisper out the side of her mouth, “Mother is sending down the word to behave.”
Peter was smart enough not to lean forward and look toward the far end of the pew. He remembered distinctly how potent one of his mother’s church glares could be. Mrs. Varney’s were milquetoast compared to Victoria’s.
Peter, Gene, and Audra managed to behave through the first hymnal and the start of the pastor’s sermon. But then, after having Gene again check the skies for clouds, Peter began to quietly hypothesize that it wasn’t lightning but rather the roof of the church caving in that was going to be his punishment for daring to come into a house of worship. Peter and Gene began examining the ceiling for cracks and discussing which way beams would fall. Audra soon joined them in looking heavenward, but there was nothing devout in their thoughts. They started speculating on who else at the church might be what Peter called “a target of opportunity.”
“I mean,” he whispered to his siblings, “you gotta figure that God’s gonna want to take advantage of the situation and maybe handle some other problems.”
“Now, Peter,” Audra whispered, “these are all good church-going people.”
“Church-going, yes, but all good, I don’t know, Audra,” Peter whispered back.
“Well, maybe not ‘all good,’” she agreed. “I mean there’s some awful gossips and I know there’s at least one man in here who beats his wife . . . .”
“Ah-ha, now there’s an excellent candidate. There’s nothing worse than a man who hits a woman.”
“Hmm, I guess a murderer might be worse,” Gene mused, “but you probably wouldn’t find a murderer in this church.”
“That we know,” Peter whispered ominously. “Who knows what evil lurks behind the faces of these pious church-going people?”
Audra giggled but then felt a sharp tap on her shoulder. She glanced over at Heath and then realized that Nick had put his arm on the pew back behind Heath and was tapping her on the shoulder. Nick mouthed, “Behave.” She just shifted further down the pew to get out of his reach. He gave her an exasperated look and she wrinkled her nose at him and nudged Peter to move down further.
Heath refused to be shifted further down the pew by Nick’s nudging so that the church service ended with Gene, Peter, and Audra crowded into one end of the pew. Both Gene and Audra were pink from trying to contain their laughter. Peter had his best poker face on but was continuing to mutter disparaging comments about the makeup of the congregation out of the corner of his mouth. At the end of the final prayer, however, it was Peter who leapt to his feet and pushed Gene into the side aisle and toward the side entrance. Audra never looked back as she darted after them.
“Go, go, Gene,” Peter urged his youngest brother as he ignored the steps and jumped to the ground. “We need to get on our horses and out of the churchyard before Mother gets out of the church.”
“Why? We’re already in so much trouble,” Gene stumbled as Peter pushed him again.
“Trust me. By the time she gets home, she’ll have cooled down some.”
“I don’t think so,” Gene hesitated beside his horse. “I think she’s really going to be angry with us.”
“I have lots of experience in this, Gene. Facing her later will be better,” Peter swung up on his horse.
Gene glanced back toward the front of the church. The crowd was moving slowly out of the building; he couldn’t see any of his older brothers nor his mother. Well, it was now or never. He untied his horse and prepared to mount. A strong hand caught his arm.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Audra hung on doggedly. “You two are not running off and leaving me to face Mother and Jarrod and Nick.”
Peter grinned down at her. He kicked his foot out of his stirrup and offered her a hand, “Well, c’mon, little sister.”
Unlike Gene, Audra didn’t bother to look back at the church door. Laughing, she let Peter help her scramble on behind him. They charged out of the churchyard with Gene only a few yards behind. They galloped through town and down the road toward the ranch. Peter turned off the road and down the rough trail that ran along the ridge. He pulled up under the shade of three oak trees. The three siblings looked at each other and then broke out in a collective laugh.
“Oh, we are in so much trouble,” Audra said between gasps.
“You know it,” Gene groaned. “God, no telling what Jarrod’s going to do to me this time.”
“Ah, but wasn’t it fun?” Peter teased.
His younger brother and sister exchanged a look and then both of them grinned and nodded. “But it really wasn’t very respectful of Reverend Wilson,” Audra tried to look a little guilty but the look dissolved as she laughed again. “But his sermons are so often so boring. This was much more fun.”
Gene sighed, “Yeah, well, Mother and the others are still going to be upset with us.”
“Look, you two, I’ve got something I need to do. Here, Audra, slide down. Gene, help her up behind you,” Peter said.
“Oh, no, you’re going to send us off to face the family,” Audra reached up and grabbed his arm.
“Nah, tell them it was all my fault. I was the one who caused all the problems. I mean it’s obvious. You two never acted this way in church before.”
“But, Pete, where are you going? You know they’re going to ask,” Gene frowned.
“Ah, I just have some things to do.”
Audra shook her head, “Mother is expecting us all for Sunday dinner. She’ll be so disappointed that you won’t be there.”
“C’mon, Audra, I haven’t been there in 14 years. Missing it today is no big thing. I’ve got things I need to do,” he repeated.
“Well, well, when will you be home?” Gene asked.
“It’ll be late. Tell them not to worry about me. I probably won’t be home for supper either,” Peter nudged his horse out of the shade. “You two head on home and lay all the blame on me. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” With that he turned his horse to the east and was over the first rise before Gene reached down to help Audra climb up behind him.
“This isn’t going to be good, Gene,” Audra put her arms around her younger brother’s waist. “Mother is going to be so disappointed and you know how that will upset Jarrod and Nick and even Heath.”
“I know,” was all that Gene could answer.
Sunday dinner was a quiet affair, and the afternoon and early evening drug by. Audra and Gene were given the “I’m so disappointed in the two of you” lecture by Victoria. Their mother, however, stopped both Jarrod and Nick from heaping on more punishment. “Nicholas,” Victoria said, “I remember when it was you and Peter misbehaving in church and then dashing out the side door and onto your horses before your father could catch you. Gene and Audra have always been much better behaved than you were. I think they are allowed one lapse.”
But getting off easy didn’t make the day any better for Gene and Audra. Both kept thinking that they should have argued more and made Peter come back to the house. What could he have to do that was so important? The family sat down for a late supper . . . waiting as long as possible in the hopes that Peter would return. But, of course, he didn’t.
None of the family was in a mood to move into the billiards room so all ended up sitting scattered around the parlor. The conversation was sporadic and forced. Victoria knew that Jarrod and Nick were staying in the parlor so that they could literally ambush Peter when he returned home. Heath was probably hoping he might be able to stop a fistfight if one broke out. Audra and Gene were trading guilty looks; they probably hoped to divert some of the anger from Peter onto themselves. And she was staying to . . . to . . . what? Chastise Peter for misbehaving at church? Shame him for not coming home for dinner as she had asked? Scold him for staying out late and worrying the family? Or just be relieved to see him one more time?
Victoria had almost decided that she was going on to bed and that she would speak to Peter the next morning when she heard the whistling. It was a jaunty sailor tune; obviously Peter was in a good mood. Just as obviously, Nick and Jarrod weren’t as both stood and looked toward the foyer. Peter toned his whistle down to a happy hum as he came through the front door. Jarrod called his name, and Peter continued to hum as he stepped into the parlor. He had his jacket thrown over one shoulder and his tie was hanging unknotted around his neck. His hair was a little mussed and he carried a half-empty bottle of whiskey in his right hand.
“Well, well, well,” his eyes were dancing and his half-smile was teasing, “I expected everybody at this working ranch to have gone to bed hours ago.”
“We were waiting for you,” Nick snapped.
“Why?” Peter’s smile widened. “I told Audra and Gene to tell you that I would be late and for you all not to worry about me.”
“It’s not an issue of worrying, Peter,” Jarrod said briskly. “You were expected for Sunday dinner. You know all the family is expected to be here for Sunday dinner. We can’t understand what was so important that you chose to gallop off at the last moment.”
“I suppose that would be my business, wouldn’t it, big brother,” Peter’s smile disappeared.
“Hell, I know where you’ve been. You smell of whiskey and cigars and cheap perfume,” Nick growled. “You’ve been back at a saloon, haven’t you. That was what was so God damn important, wasn’t it.”
“Very good, brother Nick,” Peter acknowledged. “You’re just a brilliant detective, aren’t you. Say, Gene, here’s another important piece of good advice from your big brother Peter. Sunday afternoon is always a good time to look for what brother Jarrod refers to as female entertainment. The married men are all home with the wife and kiddies.”
Gene’s face matched Heath’s as they both flamed bright red in embarrassment but Nick’s was just as bright with anger. It was Jarrod, however, who barked, “Peter, that’s quite enough.”
“Ah, that’s right, I’m not supposed to contaminate the tyke with my evil ways,” Peter wasn’t the least apologetic.
“Peter . . . ,” Victoria started.
“What?” Peter almost snarled the word at her. She was so shocked by his hateful tone that she couldn’t respond. But both Jarrod’s and Nick’s responses were immediate.
“Watch your tone!” Jarrod snapped.
Nick’s reaction, as could be expected, was physical as he grabbed the front of Peter’s shirt and shoved him against the brick of the fireplace. “You watch yourself, boy,” he sneered. “You’re one step from getting the tar beat out of you.”
Peter taunted, “By you and what army, big brother?”
He watched the rage rise in Nick’s face. He felt strangely detached. It was all too easy, he thought. He waited for Nick to bring back his fist to hit him. But the blow didn’t come.
“Nicholas, no,” Victoria commanded. Her voice left no room for disobedience. Nick loosened his grip on Peter’s shirt and stepped back.
“Aw, c’mon now, Nicky,” Peter laughed derisively, “you’re not backing down that easy, are you? Tell you what, I’ll let you have the first hit. I won’t even put my hands up to block the blow. C’mon now, let’s see how hard you can hit.” Peter set his bottle and jacket on the hearth. He stepped away from the fireplace and lifted his chin and turned his head slightly to give his brother a perfect target on his left jaw.
But still the blow didn’t come as their mother repeated, “No, Nicholas. I want this to stop now.”
Nick was barely containing his rage. He forced the words out through tight lips, “The only reason you’re not feeling my fist right now is I’m not going to add to her pain. Your running away broke their hearts. I’m not going to make it worse.”
“Oh, c’mon, Nick,” Peter saw his chance and sneered in his cruelest voice. “It couldn’t have broken his heart. He never had a damn heart.”
Nick struck the blow without thinking, catching Peter on the jaw. It was a blow that had knocked out more than one man and set a good many on their ass. But it just snapped Peter’s head to one side. The younger brother shifted his right leg back to keep his balance. The room was deathly quiet as Peter let his head hang for a few moments. When he moved, it was with lightning speed. His head shot up and his right hand went to the back of his neck. As he pinned Nick against the wall with his left forearm, his right hand whipped a knife from its hidden sheath between his shoulder blades and pressed it to Nick’s neck.
Heath started across the room to try to wrestle the knife away from Nick’s throat, but then realized that it was too risky. He automatically grabbed Gene’s arm to also keep him from trying to jump Peter. One wrong move and Peter could slit Nick’s throat and there would be nothing any of them could do. He glanced over at Victoria, her face was white and one hand covered her mouth as she held back a cry. She, too, was afraid of doing anything that might push Peter to use the knife. Audra looked crushed; Heath knew that she adored all her brothers and to see Peter tumbling off the pedestal she had placed this dashing older brother on must be turning her world upside down. Heath watched as Jarrod opened his mouth and then closed it. He knew Jarrod was trying desperately to think of the right thing to say, but what words do you use to keep one brother from killing another. Under his hand, he felt Gene tremble. The boy was scared to death, but, then, so was he. Taking a deep breath, Heath released his hold on Gene and shifted from foot to foot as he looked for a way to disarm Peter.
“Relax, Heath,” Peter seemed to have eyes in the back of his head, his flat stare never left Nick’s face. “If I was really going to hurt Nick, he’d already be on the floor. No, I just want him to remember this day. He threw his best punch and he never even moved me. I want him to remember who’s the better man.”
“Peter, I said that’s enough,” Victoria had finally found her voice. “I know you’re not going to hurt Nick, so please put that knife away.”
“Please?” Peter chuckled but it was an eerie almost evil sound. “Oh so politely she asks. Now, how do you know that I’m not going to hurt Nick?”
She was strangely calm, “Because I know you and I know that although you might want to upset us all for some strange reason, you would never hurt your brother on purpose.”
“Ah, but you see, that’s the rub,” Peter never took his eyes off Nick. “You don’t know me. I’m not the same as they are. I escaped from all of this. I got away from him before he could grind me down, before he could make me weak like them.”
And with that, Peter released his brother and smoothly re-sheathed his knife in a practiced move. Nick automatically leaned forward, intent on lashing out at his brother. “Don’t even think about it, Nick,” Peter growled. “You know you can’t beat me. I’m holding all the cards.”
“You can’t take us all,” Nick snapped back, looking over Peter’s shoulder to Heath, signaling him with his eyes. But Heath shook his head slightly; they couldn’t try anything with Mother and Audra in the room. It was just too risky. Pete was fast . . . very fast.
“Ah, Nick, Heath’s not going to do anything. He knows it’s just too dangerous. He saw how fast I was with that knife and he knows someone could easily get hurt. Heath’s too smart to take such a chance,” Peter stepped back from Nick so that he could see the whole family and wipe away a little blood that was running down from the corner of his mouth. “Be glad you weren’t raised here, Heath. The old man thought he was God and he made it hell for all the rest of us. But I guess he found out he wasn’t invincible. Wonder what he thought when he found out he was just mortal like all the rest of us.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Peter?” Nick demanded. “He was a good father. He always took care of us.”
“He loved us all,” Audra added.
“No,” Peter reached down to retrieve his jacket and bottle seemingly unconcerned that someone might try to stop him. “He loved power. That was all.”
“That’s not true,” Jarrod’s brilliant blue eyes flashed with anger. He had been so stunned by Peter’s sudden violent actions that he had been virtually paralyzed. His mind reeled with the knowledge that he was the one who insisted that Peter come home; he was the one who brought such danger into the house. “He WAS a good father; he was a good man. He worked hard for everything he achieved.”
“If you have to remember a lie to get through your days, Jarrod, that’s your problem,” Peter backed from the room. “I remember the truth.” He turned and headed for the stairs. They all heard the door to his bedroom slam shut.
“What the hell was that all about?” Nick demanded of the whole room. “It’s like he’s changed into a different person. I mean, he was kinda cold and he said a few things before but he wasn’t, he wasn’t . . . .”
“Mean,” Audra finished for him. “He was so funny at church. What could have happened to make him act like this?”
“Maybe he’s been drinking a lot,” Heath offered gently. “Some men are just mean drunks.”
“But he was drinking Friday night and he didn’t turn mean then,” Gene started and then realized that he shouldn’t have known how Peter was Friday night. He was supposed to be at the Hutchens’.
Luckily neither Jarrod nor Nick picked up on the slip. Jarrod just mused, “He didn’t seem that drunk to me. He certainly took Nick’s punch. I’m not sure a drunk man could have done that.”
Heath couldn’t stop his chuckle, “Having been on the receiving end of that punch a few times, I gotta say I’m impressed.”
Jarrod also let slip a small laugh, “I have to agree. I don’t think I remember anyone taking that punch so well. Did you pull it, Nick, at the last moment?”
“Hell, no,” Nick snorted. “I was too damn mad to pull a punch. Him standing there, saying Father didn’t have a heart. Hell, Jarrod, you remember it about killed Father when Pete ran off.”
“I know,” Jarrod’s face grew sad. “I had to see Father all those times he’d go down to the wharf trying to find out anything he could about Pete and come back with nothing. It was like a sore on his very soul that he couldn’t let heal.”
Jarrod stopped then. He realized that this discussion had to be brutal on their mother. Indeed, Victoria’s face was white and she was biting her lips. When she realized all her children were looking at her, she managed to say in a quiet but strong voice, “I’m very tired this evening. It’s been a very long day. I’m going to bed now. I’ll see you all in the morning.”
She tried to slip from the room, but Nick gently caught her arm and kissed her forehead, “I’m sorry for losing my temper and hitting him.”
“It’s all right, Nicholas,” she said automatically.
“Goodnight, Mother,” Heath grazed her cheek with a soft kiss.
“Night, Mother,” Gene also kissed her cheek. “Sorry for misbehaving in church this morning.”
“Well, I still expect you and Audra to apologize to Reverend Wilson next Sunday.”
“Yes, ma’am,” both Audra and Gene responded as Audra gently pressed her cheek to her mother’s.
“Goodnight, Mother,” Jarrod placed a light kiss on her temple. “If you want, I’ll try to have a talk with Peter tomorrow.”
Victoria smiled a little grimly, “I’m not sure that Peter would be very receptive, Jarrod. Let me talk with him instead.”
She knew that he wasn’t pleased with her response, but he inclined his head in a gesture of acquiescence. She patted his arm and finally escaped the room. She knew that the children had only wanted to comfort her, but the goodnight kisses and various apologies only made her hurt more because of the absence of the one. Why couldn’t Peter have just come home with Gene and Audra and apologized for his misbehavior at church? Why couldn’t he have come home this evening and just apologized for missing dinner and given her one of Tom’s heart-stopping smiles? She would have forgiven him. Why was her son so angry at them? So bitter toward his father?
She hesitated outside his bedroom door. Maybe she should talk with him tonight. Maybe she could learn where all his anger came from. She put her hand on the doorknob and then firmly rapped, “Peter, I want to speak with you.”
The voice on the other side of the door was just as firm and much more concise, “No.”
“Peter, please,” she tried the knob but, of course, he had locked the door. Her heart sank and she rested her forehead against the doorframe. She would not beg him, she vowed. He would not respond to weakness, she knew. He would detest it. Tomorrow, she promised herself, tomorrow she and Peter would talk. Tomorrow she would try to learn what was driving her son, their son, so.
Victoria didn’t sleep much that night. She knew that she was listening for the door to Peter’s room to open. But all was quiet from her son’s room. She gave up trying to get any sleep in the early morning hours. She knew it would only make her more tired. She got up and dressed and then picked up the album that held the various family pictures that had been taken over the years. Other than her and Tom’s wedding picture, the oldest was one when Peter was just a baby. She smiled as she remembered how excited she had been when the photographer had wandered to their part of the valley. She had almost had to force Tom to part with a few precious dollars to have the picture taken and the two prints made, one to keep and one to send back East. Money had been so tight then. Tom had started to hold Nick while she held baby Peter, but Peter had begun to fuss. Tom had taken the baby from her and gotten him settled back down. Peter had always responded so well to Tom. The picture was wonderful. A very serious six-year-old Jarrod stood between his parents. Two-year-old Nick was sitting on her lap, smiling shyly. Tom had Peter balanced on his lap, one large hand practically covering the baby’s chest as he held his tiny son upright. What made the picture so special were their smiles. The grown man and the tiny baby had identical smiles. Sighing, Victoria caressed the picture and then closed the book.
She knew Tom had loved all his children. He had been stern with them, insisting that they use the formal “father” as Tom himself had been raised to address his own father. He had expected them to always work hard, whether it be their school work or their chores around the ranch. But he had done fun things with them, too. He had taken them camping and fishing and on rides all around their lands. He had gone to every one of their school events, sitting patiently as they recited their lines and sang their songs. And when nightmares broke their sweet sleep, he was always the first to reach them and was already comforting the frightened little one by the time Victoria had reached the door. He had been a good father, she thought, suddenly angry. Peter was so wrong and she would tell him so.
She considered going to his bedroom as soon as dawn broke, but she decided she would wait until after breakfast. She would wait until Jarrod had left for town and until Nick, Heath, and Gene had gone off to their work. She would insist that Audra leave the house also. That would leave just she, Peter, and Silas in the house. She knew Silas would make himself invisible as he always did when there were any family confrontations.
Confrontation . . . yes, that is what it would be. She had thought the talk at Tom’s graveside had cleared the air, but obviously not. She had to make this wayward boy, this stubborn young man, this son so much like his father, understand that he had always been loved and that his absence had hurt them all. She vowed to herself that her confrontation with him today would accomplish that.
She went to breakfast early, determined not to let any of the other children draw Peter into their daily activities. She needn’t have worried; Peter did not show up at the breakfast table. Perhaps he was too hungover; perhaps he was just embarrassed by his actions. Victoria refused to comment on his absence. She ignored the looks that were shared between the children and only briefly speculated on what they had said after she had gone to her bedroom. It didn’t matter. Today she would handle it all. She was a little frustrated when they all dwaddled over breakfast. She needed for them to leave. Finally, Nick mumbled something about a “working ranch” and took both Heath and Gene with him. Jarrod offered once more to talk with Peter but she, as politely as possible, declined his offer again. He gave up after one more look of concern and left for town.
“Audra,” Victoria said to the last child left at the table. “I think it would be a good idea to ride over to the Taylors’ and check on Evelyn. She hasn’t been feeling well the last few days . . . I think the heat is bothering her . . . it would be a help to her if you looked after Asa and Abigail so she can be off her feet during the heat of the day.”
“But, Mother,” her daughter resisted. “I was hoping I could talk to Peter.”
“No,” Victoria was firm. “As I told Jarrod, I am going to be the one who talks with your brother. Now, go on and change into your riding clothes.”
Audra considered arguing further, but her mother’s face dissuaded her. It was several minutes after Audra left the table before Victoria could marshal her strength. Now, she told herself, now. Don’t waste another moment. You must talk with him now.
She passed Audra on the stairway and managed a strong smile for her daughter. Her strength wavered a little as she neared his bedroom door. Maybe she should wait until he came out on his own. He might still be asleep. No, it was now. He would just have to wake up.
She knocked firmly on the door, “Peter, are you awake? I need to talk with you.”
She waited a few moments for a reply and then knocked again, “Peter, this isn’t acceptable. I need to talk with you now.”
Still no answer. Although she knew it would do no good, her hand automatically went to the doorknob. She was shocked when it turned easily and the door swung open. “Peter,” she said firmly. “I’m coming in.”
But she was talking to an empty room. For a moment, her mind refused to accept what her eyes saw. The bed never slept in, the wardrobe door standing open showing that his clothes were gone, no valise sitting beside the wardrobe. He was gone, her mind finally screamed at her. Her son was gone again. She took a step into the room and grasped the back of the chair. She knew that her heart was breaking and she couldn’t do anything to stop the terrible pain. Her mouth opened in a silent cry and then the tears started to fall. The sobs that choked her blocked out the sound of footsteps. She started when she felt the hand on her shoulder and the single word, “Mother?”
She turned and sought the comfort of his arms, “Oh, Nick, he’s gone. He’s gone.”
She felt her second son stiffen, felt the anger rise, “What do you mean he’s gone? Where did he go?”
“I don’t know, Nick,” she whispered against his chest. “He must have left during the night.”
“What’s this?” he continued to keep an arm around her as he reached out to pick up the single sheet of paper lying on the chest of drawers. His eyes scanned it and then he cursed, “Damn him.”
“What? What?” she was so confused.
“Don’t worry, I’m gonna find him,” Nick dropped the sheet and stormed out the door.
Victoria reached down to pick up the paper that had drifted from Nick’s fingers to the floor. “I was never good at good-byes. Peter” was all it said. She crumpled the sheet and brought it against her chest. Oh, Peter, oh her baby. How could he do this to them all again? She had no idea how long she stood there, gripping the back of the chair with one hand and the crumpled note with the other. Suddenly, she felt arms go around her waist.
“Mother, what is it?” Audra asked. “I saw Nick ride in and then head back out. I thought I needed to come back and check on you. What is it?”
“Peter’s gone,” Victoria whispered.
“What?” Audra was stunned. “He left . . . without saying good-bye?”
“Yes,” was all Victoria could respond. Her strength was all gone.
For a moment, Audra continued to just hug her mother and then the memory of that day at the orphanage, of the man with the accent, came back to her. “Mother,” she said in a rush. “When Peter and I were at the orphanage I overheard him talking to a man. They talked about something happening at Norton’s. Do you think that’s where Peter could have gone. To the railroad stop at Norton’s?”
Hope sprang into Victoria’s heart. “Perhaps,” she tried to control her emotions.
“Let’s go, Mother,” Audra said instantly. “You and I, we can talk with him. We’ll fix whatever is wrong.”
“Yes,” Victoria whispered, and then more strong, “yes, we’ll take the buggy. We have plenty of time to get there before the train arrives.”
When Nick stormed out of the house, he initially didn’t know where he was going to go to find Pete. As he walked toward Coco, he tried to reason it out. Changing course, he headed toward the barn and checked the tack room; there were no saddles missing. Nick did a quick count of the horses in the barn and those in the corral. He thought all were accounted for. Pete must be walking, Nick decided. But where? He climbed onto Coco and sat looking in all four directions. To town? It was a long walk, but Pete could probably do it without any trouble. The next train wasn’t due in for hours, however. Pete must have known that someone in the family might run into him there. No, he didn’t think that was the way that Pete would go. Which way then?
Toward the river, Nick decided suddenly. Pete would avoid Stockton. He would either try to catch a ride on a riverboat or head on over to the water tower to catch a train. Nick urged Coco into a trot and headed out of the ranch yard. He smiled broadly when he stopped to open a gate and saw the distinct bootprints of someone who had climbed the gate and jumped down on the other side. It had to be Pete, he thought triumphantly. He continued to trot along the trail that headed toward the creek that fed the river. He hadn’t really thought about what he would say to Pete. Actually, he just wanted to beat the crap out of him and drag him back to the house and make him apologize to Mother. Of course, he wasn’t 100 percent sure that he could beat the crap out of Pete. When they were kids, he had always been able to best his little brother – but he had always been bigger and stronger. Now, well, now things were different. Pete had already proven himself to be just as strong as Nick. He was quick on his feet and probably very quick with his fists, too. Hmm, maybe he needed to figure out something to say to convince Pete to come back.
The trail took him into the trees along the creek. Coco threaded his way through the trees easily, allowing Nick to continue to puzzle on what he was going to do once he found Peter. Nick’s mind was on the speech he was composing so he failed to notice the fresh tracks on the trail. Suddenly, as the trail swung sharply to the right, Nick rode up on a group of about six men. They were all dismounted, standing in a circle, talking.
“Hey, there,” Nick shouted. “This is private property. What are you doing here?”
For several moments, none of the men spoke. Finally, one of the men who was standing with his back to Nick, turned. Nick flinched when he realized that it was Peter. Without thinking, Nick snapped, “Pete, what the hell are you doing here?”
Several of the other men looked at Peter in confusion. His brother just stood silent for several moments and then shook his head, almost sadly, “Ah, Nicky, you’ve made a very big mistake.”
One of the men pointed his rifle at Nick and ordered, “Get off your horse.”
“Pete?” Nick stared at his brother.
“Do as he says, Nick,” Pete walked over to where his brother now stood. He reached out and took Nick’s revolver from his holster and tucked the gun into his belt.
Nick’s face flushed bright red with confusion and fury, “What the hell is going on here?”
“Shut up,” the man with the rifle growled.
Nick flashed an angry look at the man but then turned his eyes back on his younger brother.
“What are we gonna do with him?” another man asked anxiously.
“We could tie him up and leave him here,” suggested one.
“Won’t work,” Peter said. “He’s seen us. He could identify us. He’s a threat to the plan.”
“What are we going to do then?”
Peter’s face was expressionless, “We’ll have to kill him.”
Nick started. He, however, wasn’t the only one who was shocked. The first man blurted out, “But, but you said we shouldn’t kill anybody. You’re the one who stopped us from killing that old man. You said that the sheriff would come after us if we killed him.”
“He couldn’t identify us; we were wearing masks. This is different. We can’t run the risk.”
“Well, I ain’t doing it,” the man declared. Several of the other men nodded their heads in agreement. Nick knew these men were the ones who had robbed old man Everett. They might be robbers, but they didn’t act like they wanted to be murderers.
Peter sighed loudly, “My, God, I’ll take care of it.”
Nick stared at his brother, suddenly concerned. Peter looked pretty damn cold. Peter gestured at his brother, “Over there.” Nick walked toward the steep creek bank.
“What the hell is going on, Pete?” Nick asked again.
“Hmm, well it would take too long to explain, Nick, and it would serve no purpose,” Peter replied coldly. “You want it in the chest or the back.”
“I want to look you in the eye when you do it,” Nick sneered.
Peter shrugged and started to raise the rifle. He hesitated and said, “Well, Sir Nicholas, you’ve been vanquished once again by Peter the Great.”
Nick frowned, a clear memory jumping into his mind. Two little boys dueling with sticks in this very glade.
“Now, Sir Nicholas, have you made peace with God?” Peter sighted down the rifle. “Prepare to meet your maker, Sir Nicholas.”
The explosion of the rifle shot caused everyone but Peter to jump, and Nick’s body tumbled down the bank to the edge of the creek.
“Sweet Jesus,” one of the men murmured. “He just shot him in cold blood.”
“I told you,” Peter turned to face the group. “He was a threat. He had to be dealt with.”
“Is he dead?” another man whispered.
“If he isn’t now, he will be shortly. He’ll bleed out before anyone finds him,” Peter said confidently. “Tie his horse a little ways down the creek. The last thing we need is a riderless horse heading back home. That will bring someone looking for him. We don’t need that.”
“Well, what do we do now?”
“Look, we’re going to have to get riding,” Peter said sharply as he walked to a horse. “Since the buyer has gotten jumpy again and moved the exchange to the landing at Pruitt’s ferry, then we’re going to have to get moving so that we’ll be there when his boat arrives. Don’t know why he thinks that there might be lawmen at Norton’s stop. Making the exchange on the train would have worked better.”
“Don’t know why he changed his mind,” another man answered. “He seemed pretty sure of his facts that the law would be at the railway stop though.”
“Well, if there are lawmen there, then they’ll be left holding an empty bag, won’t they. Let’s get a move on. It’ll take us a bit to get to the landing,” Peter nudged his horse into motion. The others quickly mounted and followed him. A few looked back at Coco, who stood forlornly in the shade of the stand of trees.
Victoria and Audra were perhaps two miles from Norton’s station when they spotted two riders coming over the ridge. They both relaxed when they realized it was Heath and Gene.
“Where are you two going?” Heath asked as he and Gene pulled up beside the buggy.
“Norton’s station,” Victoria replied quickly. “Audra said she overheard a conversation between Peter and another man. We think Peter may be meeting someone at Norton’s station.”
“Pete’s not at the house?” Gene was shocked.
“When Nick didn’t show up at the herd, we figured he doubled back to talk to Pete,” Heath explained. “We thought we might need to be there to break the two of them up.”
“Nick did come back, but Peter was already gone,” Victoria bit her lips, remembering the bitter disappointment of the empty bedroom. “He must have left during the night. I think Nick was going to try to trail him. I’m hoping we find him at Norton’s station before Nick finds him. Nick was very angry.”
“I can imagine,” Heath smiled his lop-sided smile. “Why don’t me and Gene ride to Norton’s with you? Expect if Nick finds Pete there we might need to cool the both of them off.”
Victoria nodded and flicked the reins to urge the horse forward. Gene and Heath trotted beside the buggy but made no effort to initiate a conversation. As they rode up to Norton’s station, Heath saw only two men standing outside the small building that Norton used as a depot. Nick and Pete weren’t in sight. Victoria pulled up beside the building and looked around, her heart sinking. She was so sure that Peter would be here. Sighing, she climbed out of the buggy and walked over to the building and peaked through the dusty window. The little waiting room was empty. She turned to look at Heath and Gene, not realizing the hopelessness in her eyes.
“Train’s not due for a good bit yet,” Heath said as he stepped down from his horse and wrapped the reins around the hitching post. “He’ll probably show up just about when it’s due in.”
She nodded and tried to take heart in Heath’s reasoning, but she feared that they had gone on a wild goose chase. Audra climbed out of the buggy and came to stand with her mother, trying to think of something comforting to say. Gene moved the buggy around to the side of the little depot and watered all the horses. By the time that he came around to the front of the building, Heath had gotten their mother and sister to sit on one of the benches outside the depot. Gene nodded at the two men who were leaning against one of the posts holding up the porch roof. Both men returned the nod but neither spoke.
As the minutes ticked by, Victoria gave up trying to follow the quiet conversation that the children were having. Her eyes searched the horizon for any sign of a rider . . . or a walker . . . just anything. The train would be pulling in before too much longer. She sighed deeply and then straightened; there was a rider coming. It only took her a moment to determine it was neither Peter nor Nick. It was an older man. Her shoulders dropped in disappointment, but she managed a small smile when Heath reached over to gently squeeze her arm.
Audra had given up trying to engage her mother in conversation. She watched as the two men leaning against the post exchanged a look and then straightened and stepped off the porch to meet the rider. The older man swung down from his horse, obviously agitated. Audra ears perked up when she heard the taller of the two other men speak.
“That’s him,” she said jumping to her feet.
“What?” Gene frowned at her.
“That’s the man, the man who was talking to Peter at the orphanage,” she pointed toward the trio. “I bet he’s the one that Peter was meeting here.”
“Are you sure?” Heath was a little concerned. He didn’t want to go up and start pressuring a stranger about something that was really family business.
“Yes, I’m sure,” Audra started toward the men.
“Whoa, little sister,” Heath snagged her arm. “Now what are you going to go say to him?”
Audra pulled her arm loose, “I’m going to ask him where my brother is.”
“Audra,” Victoria started, but her daughter was already walking toward the group.
“Hello,” Audra said confidently. “I’m sorry to bother you gentlemen but I heard you,” and she nodded toward the tall dark-haired man, “talking to my brother at the orphanage and I wondered if he was meeting you here.”
The man’s smile was friendly but he shook his head, “I am sorry, madameselle, you must be mistaken. I have been to no orphanage.”
“Yes, you were,” Audra insisted, “on Thursday. You were talking to my brother Peter behind the barn but you rode off when I called to him. I heard you two talk about something happening at Norton’s station. You’re here, so you must be meeting him here.”
“I am truly sorry, but I am afraid I have not been talking with a Peter,” the man shook his head. “I am sure that you have mistaken me for someone else.”
“No, it was you. I recognize your voice.”
The man gave a charming smile, “Ah, madameselle, you see, that is the problem. All we French men sound the same to you Americans.”
“No,” Audra was getting angry. “It was you . . . .”
“It’s all right, Audra,” Heath came up to take his sister’s arm. “Sorry to bother you,” he nodded at the three men. The older man studied Heath for a moment and then nodded his head.
“Heath,” Audra hissed at her brother and tried to jerk her arm out of his grasp. “I tell you that’s the man.”
“Audra, he said you were wrong,” Heath urged his sister back to the covered porch.
“I’m not wrong. Do you think it’s a coincidence that I overhead a man with an accent talking to Peter and saying something about Norton’s station and that there’s a man with the same accent at Norton’s station today?”
Heath glanced back over to the trio of men, “Actually, no, I don’t think it’s a coincidence, but you’re not gonna get anything out of those men. Let’s just sit here and see what happens.”
But he had just gotten Audra to sit down beside Mother, when the older man walked over, “Excuse me, folks. I was wondering. Are you waiting for the train?”
“No, actually, we’re waiting for someone who may be catching the train,” Gene said evasively.
“I see,” the man’s eyes scanned the group and settled on Heath. “Well, given that the train is expected shortly, it doesn’t appear that your party will appear.”
Heath murmured, “Still got time.”
“I suppose,” the man nodded, “but not likely.”
“Well, we’re gonna wait until the train comes in,” Heath said quietly but firmly, wondering why the man wanted them to leave. Made no difference, however. Heath had made up his mind that they would just sit things out until at least the train had come and gone. He folded his arms across his chest and silently stared at the man.
Heath had no idea why the man raised his eyebrows and chuckled softly. The man started to speak again when one of the other men called over, “William, there’s two riders coming in.”
“Well, perhaps that is your party,” the man smiled at Heath and stepped from the porch.
“Nope,” Heath replied. He recognized the two riders and wondered why Jarrod and the sheriff were riding into Norton’s station. He also wondered where Jeb Norton was. His little station usually didn’t get this much activity. It was really just a watering stop. Most folks chose to get on and off the train in Stockton.
“Heath,” Jarrod called out as they rode into the station yard. “What are you doing here?”
“About to say the same thing to you, big brother,” Heath stepped off the porch. “Audra and Mother thought Peter might be here. Gene and I met them on the road and decided to come along. And you?”
“Actually, Fred and I are here to talk with these gentlemen,” Jarrod nodded toward the three men who had moved a little further from the porch. “One of them sent a telegram that was a little suspicious to Ben. He let Fred know and I happened to be in the jail when Fred needed someone to ride out here with him.”
“Suspicious?” Heath eyed the group warily. There had been something that he hadn’t liked about them.
“That’s right,” Fred said as he walked to the group. “You men, I’d like to have a word with you.”
The three exchanged hooded looks. Finally, the older one spoke, “What can we do for you, sheriff?”
“You sent a telegram just a bit ago which seemed a little strange,” the sheriff’s eyes moved across the three men’s faces.
“Telegrams are private communications,” the older one replied quietly.
“Yes, they are,” Jarrod said, “but if the operator believes a communication is in connection with a crime he is empowered to notify the proper authorities.”
“Crime?” the man shrugged his shoulders. “I’m sure I don’t understand what you’re referring to. I simply sent a message to a colleague in San Francisco updating him on the status of a shipment.”
“And given some things that have happened around here in the past week, we believe that this was a message relating to a crime that occurred here,” the sheriff interjected. “I think you men need to come back to Stockton with me and explain yourselves.”
The men again exchanged looks and finally the older man, obviously the leader, said, “That would not be very convenient for us right now, sheriff. Perhaps, later.”
“Now,” the sheriff said sternly and dropped a hand onto his gun. Both Jarrod and Heath also moved their hands to their guns to back up the sheriff and even the odds. Gene stepped out from underneath the porch awning and also placed a hand on the gun that he wore. He wished Mother and Audra were inside the building, but maybe the men would just give up and go with the sheriff.
The leader looked like he was going to speak again, when Audra’s voice interrupted them all, “Mother, look, it’s, it’s . . .”
Audra’s voice interrupted them all, “Mother, look, it’s, it’s . . .”
“Nick,” Jarrod shouted as his brother came pounding into the station yard.
“Jarrod, what the hell are you doing here? Heath? Gene?,” Nick swung off Coco. “Damn, Fred, I’m glad you’re here, but I gotta warn you, things aren’t gonna happen here.”
“What?” Fred stared at the slightly disheveled cattleman.
“The exchange isn’t going to happen here. You’re gonna end up with an empty bag. The buyer’s not coming in on the train,” Nick said tersely.
“What the hell are you talking about, Nick?” Fred shook his head in confusion.
“The buyer, the exchange,” Nick shouted in exasperation. “He said that the lawmen here would be left with an empty bag. Now, c’mon, Fred, we gotta get to Pruitt’s old ferry landing. That’s where the exchange will be.”
“Nick, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” the sheriff repeated.
“But, you gotta, Fred. Pete sent me here with the message. He knew lawmen would be here,” Nick insisted.
“Peter?” Victoria stepped out into the sunlight. “You found Peter?”
“Mother?” Nick was shocked to see his mother. “Yep, I found him, but he was with a group of men. I’m pretty sure they’re the ones who took the dies. Pete figured out a way to tell me what was going on and then set things up so that I could get here to let you know.”
“Peter’s one of the robbers?” Audra also stepped off the porch.
Nick stumbled on this one, “Well, I don’t know. Maybe. I guess. But the point is he sent me to warn you that the plan has changed and you need to get to Pruitt’s landing to stop them.” No matter what his little brother had done in the past, the point was he had tried to help now.
“Nick, I still don’t know why Peter would think I was here,” Fred shook his head again. He then looked over at the three strangers. He wondered if Nick had just tipped their hand. His hand went to his gun again.
“He wasn’t sending word to the sheriff. He was sending word to us,” the spokesman for the trio said sharply.
“You!” Nick spun around to stare at the three, searching their faces. “Why you?”
“I’m Federal Marshal William Hunter,” the man reached into his inside vest pocket and produced his identification, which he held it out to the sheriff. “My men are the ones that Peter so eloquently said were going to be left holding an empty bag.”
“You know Pete?” Jarrod had taken the identification from Fred.
“Yes, I know him well,” the man hesitated a moment. “Peter is our inside man.”
“What?” Nick caught his breath.
“Peter is one of my boys,” Marshal Hunter said. “He’s spent the last three months getting himself to just this point, the point where we will be able to capture the men who were behind last year’s attempt to steal the coin dies. Now, he’s managed once again to save us from disaster.”
“Pete?” Jarrod frowned, thoroughly confused. “Peter’s a federal marshal?”
“Deputy,” the man said quickly. “Hank, get the boys down and the horses out. We’re moving our operations. Nick, what was Peter able to tell you?”
One of the men gave a sharp whistle and suddenly armed men began to appear on the roof tops of the barn and the little depot building and from behind the tank on the water tower. “Jesus,” Heath whispered as he watched a dozen men jump to the ground. He and Jarrod shared a grim look. Backing up the sheriff seemed like the natural thing to do when it had been three against four. They had no idea that they were sitting in the middle of an ambush. Heath was only a little surprised to see Jeb Norton walk out of the barn with another armed man, leading horses for the entire group. These men were good, Heath decided quickly. He had been here for how long, waiting for Peter to show up, and he had had no idea they were hiding all around him.
Nick was also looking around in shock, “These are all marshals?”
“That’s right, all deputies. This was a major operation for us. We want the man behind last year’s debacle,” Marshal Hunter said briskly. “Now what did Peter say?”
“Umm, I pretty much told you all I heard. He said something about being surprised that the buyer had changed his mind again. One of the other men said that the buyer was afraid that lawmen would be at the train stop. Peter was the one who said Norton’s. And then Peter said they had to hurry to get to Pruitt’s landing, which didn’t make much sense ‘cause they weren’t all that far from it.”
“Ah, but that is our Peter,” the man with the accent spoke. “He will lead them all over the countryside to give us the maximum amount of time to get in place and they will be none the wiser.”
“Well, let’s get going,” Nick turned to mount Coco.
“No,” Marshal Hunter said sharply. “You can’t come with us.”
“Like hell I’m not coming with you. He’s MY brother; I’m gonna make sure he’s all right,” Nick snapped.
“He’s OUR brother,” Jarrod came to stand beside Nick, “ and WE’RE going to make sure he’s all right.”
“That’s right,” Gene said. Heath simply put his hands on his hips.
Marshal Hunter allowed himself a small smile but then became somber, “You can’t come with us. We don’t allow civilians in our operations. It’s simply too dangerous.”
“We’re not worried about a little danger,” Nick replied. “We’ll be fine.”
“Sacre-Dieu,” the man with the accent, the man who had denied knowing Peter yelled. “It is not you that we are worried about. Do you not understand the danger he is in? They think he is their ally. What do you think would happen to him if they realized he is a spy?”
“Robert,” Marshal Hunter spoke the name with the French pronunciation. “Peter will be fine. He always is.”
“Always?” Victoria’s heart skipped a beat. She realized that her son had obviously placed himself in danger’s way before.
“Not to worry, Mrs. Barkley,” Marshal Hunter acted as if they had been formally introduced. “Peter is very good at this. He is always two steps ahead of everyone else. He was even able to get word to us of the last minute change in plans.”
“Nick,” Victoria swung her eyes to her second son. “How was Peter able to do that without making them suspicious? Are you sure he didn’t tip them off in some way? Could he already be in danger?”
“Nah,” Nick smiled slightly, “he was real smooth about that. Said he was going to have to shoot me so as to not ruin their plans, got me over by a creek bank, and then tipped me off to just pretend. He fired a shot and I went tumbling down the creek bank. Then he stood up there and said everything I just told you. He also made sure they left my horse close by so I could get here quick. He was smooth, real smooth. He knew exactly what he was doing.”
“Ah, you see now that you cannot go with us,” the man called Robert said. “Those men think you are dead. What if one happened to spot you? Do you not think he would turn his gun on Peter?”
Nick swallowed hard and accepted the reality of the situation. As much as he wanted to be there to be sure his little brother came away from all this safely, he shouldn’t go. It would just make it more dangerous for Peter.
“All right, Nick can’t go but I sure don’t see what the rest of us can’t,” Heath said stubbornly.
“Peter’s eyes are very sharp; he’ll be looking for us,” Marshal Hunter replied. “If he saw one of you, he might hesitate in doing something just to keep you safe. He would place himself in danger before he would allow any harm to come to any of you. He knows us all; he knows what to expect from us. It is best that you stay back.”
“But he’s our brother,” Gene protested. “Do you even know where Pruitt’s ferry is?”
Robert’s eyes flashed slightly, “He is our brother, too, and we will see that he is all right. And, yes, we know where the old ferry landing is. We have thoroughly scouted this county for the past week.”
“He’s right, Gene, Heath,” Jarrod finally spoke. “It would be best if we stayed back. These men obviously know what they’re doing. We would just be in the way.”
Like Nick, Heath found this a bitter pill to swallow. He didn’t like to be thought of as just being in the way, but Jarrod was right. These men were good; they worked as a team. They would be the best ones to bring Pete back safely.
Marshal Hunter considered the silence acceptance. “Michael,” he called to one of the younger deputies. “You stay here and wait for the train to come in. Tell John what has happened and have him hold the train here. Evans is with him; he’ll take back the men we capture.”
The young deputy was obviously disappointed that he wasn’t riding with the others, but he answered up, “Yes, sir, William. I’ll take care of things here.”
The sheriff, however, refused to be left behind, “You can make the Barkleys stay here but I’m going with you. This is my county, I’m going to be there when you arrest the men who robbed Mr. Everett.”
“All right, but you stick with me. The last thing we want to do is tip Peter’s hand before he gets everything in place and gives us the signal. Michael, tell John to keep an eye on the passengers on the train. There might be a collaborator on the train even though they’ve changed the exchange. Watch anyone who disembarks,” the marshal started toward his horse. “We’ll come back here after things are over.”
“Yes, sir,” the young man repeated.
“You probably want to wait inside so that you don’t alarm anyone on the train,” Marshal Hunter said after he mounted. He hesitated for a moment and then added, “Mrs. Barkley, please don’t worry about your son. Trust me, no one handles himself better in situations like this than Peter Barkley.”
“Thank you,” Victoria said automatically, but her heart lurched as she thought of Peter by himself, surrounded by men who might kill him if they found out who he was. She watched the group of men ride toward the river. Only after they were out of sight would she allow the young deputy to lead them inside the small building.
Nick paced the length of the room once again and looked out the window. He wondered what was taking so damn long. The train had pulled into the station five minutes before. A few people had gotten off to stretch their legs, but no one had come toward the little depot building. The young deputy came to stand beside Nick. When a tall man with light brown hair stepped off the train, he said, “Wait here,” and stepped out of the building. Heath joined Nick at the window, and they watched as the kid wandered out to strike up a casual conversation with the tall man. The two talked for only a moment and then the kid gestured toward the depot. They separated with the younger man walking casually down the line of passenger cars and the tall man strolling toward the depot. After a moment he stepped inside and silently studied the group waiting impatiently. His eyes settled on Jeb Norton.
“Go out and tell the engineer that there is a problem with the bridge and he’s to hold up here until the inspection crew gets back,” he directed in a soft voice tinged with a Dixie accent.
Jeb started to argue but the man’s sharp look silenced him. Jeb nodded and scurried out to talk with the train’s engineer. The man studied the group of Barkleys silently. Nick jabbed his fists on his hips and glared at the man, daring him to talk. As the man just raised an eyebrow and smiled a half smile, Jarrod watched Nick’s blood pressure rise until he thought his younger brother was going to burst. Nick opened his mouth to start yelling when the young deputy stepped into the room with another man.
“All right, Michael, what’s happening here?” the tall man ordered.
“The game has changed,” Michael answered quickly. “The exchange has moved to a ferry landing near here. William took the rest of the team and is getting them in place there. We’re to hold the train here and wait for them to come back.”
“What!” the new man snapped. “Where did you get this information? How reliable was the source? What was Marshal Hunter thinking to pull the entire team away from here?”
“He got the information from me,” Nick snapped back, instinctively disliking this man.
“Who the hell are you and why would Marshal Hunter believe you?” the man demanded.
“Name’s Nick Barkley and I expect that Marshal Hunter believed me because it was my brother Pete who told me what was happening,” Nick glared at the man.
The man rocked back on his heels and turned to look at the tall man, “Pete? Peter Barkley? What’s he doing here? Is he back in the organization? When did he come back? Did you know, John?”
The man named John didn’t speak for several moments and then murmured, “I’d heard a rumor that Peter might have talked to William about helping out with this operation. Story I heard was that Peter learned about the problems you had last year and offered William a way to maybe see that it didn’t happen again. I didn’t know he was actually the inside man.”
The angry man flushed, “Last year’s problems have nothing to do with what is happening this year.”
“William just wanted to be sure no one got killed this year, Deputy Evans,” John replied firmly.
“Barkley’s been out of the business for years. Why would Marshal Hunter want him back?” Deputy Evans demanded.
“Because Peter’s the best,” John smiled slightly. “William would want him back anytime he could get him.”
Deputy Evans pressed his lips together and glared at John. Nick watched as the young deputy, Michael, smothered a snicker. Nick and Heath exchanged a quick look. It would appear that Deputy Evans was not held in very high regard by the other two marshals.. Evans broke the silence, “I actually thought Barkley was dead, and Marshal Hunter just didn’t want to say anything to take away from the myth.”
“Myth?” Audra asked.
“Yes, the myth that Marshal Hunter has woven to justify his special little organization, to make them something more than what they are, a bunch of rogues who have no appreciation for discipline and order,” Evans sneered at John and Michael. “And Peter the Great was always the biggest part of that myth. So perfect, never failed at any job he was given, so good, so honest, so fast, so strong, so smart. Too perfect to be real. Just part of the myth.”
“Evans,” John said softly, “why don’t you go check on the passengers who have gotten off the train. I guess there’s a possibility one of the ‘bad guys’ might still be around.”
Evans glared at John, but then stalked out the door. Michael waited until the door to slam shut before he asked John, “What’s his problem?”
“Ah, Evans just a jerk. Never could stand it that William didn’t want him on his team, so he refers to all of us as undisciplined rogues. And, Peter, well, he hates Peter just because everyone else loves Peter. It’s just Evans’ way,” John shrugged.
“So it’s really the Peter Barkley who’s on the inside for this job,” Michael asked.
“The Peter Barkley?” Nick snorted.
John grinned, “That’s right, the Peter Barkley. The one of the legends.”
“Legends?” Jarrod raised an eyebrow.
“Uh-huh,” John nodded. “More stories about Peter the Great than there are warts on a hog. Like poor Evans says, all of them say he was the fastest, strongest, smartest, just the best.”
“So was he?” Audra demanded.
John smiled gently, “Ah, yes, he was.”
“But he’s not any more?” Gene asked.
“Nope, he quit about five years ago,” John pulled out a match and began to chew on the end of it. “Just walked away from it one day.”
“I heard he became a priest,” Michael volunteered.
John barked a laugh, “Yeah, that’s one of the rumors I thought was the funniest. Peter a priest. Shoot, he would have spent all his time on his knees paying penance for all the things he’s done. Nah, Peter never became a priest.”
“But Allen said he was real religious,” Michael protested.
“Pete religious?” Nick scoffed. He had grown up with Pete. They’d skipped out of many a Bible class and disrupted many a church service together.
“Ah, he’s Catholic,” John allowed. “Wears a cross, goes to mass, confession, but no more than most papists. Nah, that rumor got started because Peter always had this, this, ah, how did he put it, a respect for the sanctity of human life. He’d do anything he could to avoid anybody, no matter what side of the law they stood on, from getting killed. Think he saw too many people get killed for no good reason when he was a kid. He liked nothing better than for a game to go down with nobody getting hurt. That’s what got that priest rumor started.”
“You know Pete pretty good?” Heath asked.
“Yep, worked with him for four years. We were partners on a lot of jobs. Ran a lot of games together. Always liked knowing he was watching my back. He was the best. Smoothest you ever saw. Nothing ever flustered him. Like William always says, Peter was always two steps ahead of everyone else. His mind always working, trying to figure out how he could turn things to his advantage. Like him getting word to us that the exchange had moved right at the last minute,” John turned toward Nick. “How’d he manage that one?”
“I don’t know,” Nick shrugged. “Just luck that I came along when I did, I guess.”
“Nah, Peter makes his own luck,” John shook his head. “Actually, I’m a little surprised that Peter got his family involved in any of this. He was usually very cautious about getting civilians involved in any of his operations. He certainly wouldn’t want to put his family at risk. We always worry about retribution so we try to protect our identities especially for the deputies who work on the inside.”
“I don’t think he was planning on getting us involved. When he came into the valley, I don’t think he intended seeing the family,” Jarrod said softly.
“He wasn’t here with you already?” John looked surprised. “Thought maybe this is where he went when he left the organization five years ago.”
“No, we hadn’t seen Peter in 14 years,” Victoria stood and walked to this man who was apparently her son’s friend. “Jarrod discovered him playing poker on a river boat and convinced him to pay us a visit. I don’t think Peter wanted to be with us.”
“Peter would have only wanted to protect you,” John said gently. “He probably spent the whole time he was with you trying to figure out how to keep you all at arm’s length until he could get this game played out.”
“He did a pretty good job of that,” Nick snorted.
“Well, it doesn’t appear so,” John chuckled. “You all are here, aren’t you?”
Nick’s eyes scanned those of the rest of the family. He was sure that Pete never expected them all to be here, waiting on him to come back from this, what was the deputy called it, from this game that he was playing. Pete had tried so hard to push them all away, to make them so angry at him that they wouldn’t come after him. But, Pete had forgotten the power of a family, the strength of the ties that bound them together. They might argue, they might fight, but they were still a family. Even though 14 years had passed, Pete was still part of the family.
His eyes turned back to the deputy, “So you were his friend.”
“Yep, good friends. Spent a good bit of time with him. Even helped him celebrate his 21st birthday. Of course, I thought he was closer to me in age, figured he had seen 21 come and go years before. I was real surprised when I asked him how old he was and he said 21 and that I could now buy him a drink of hard liquor. Shoot, we’d been buying each other drinks for two years. His eyes just looked so old, like he’d seen so much of life, too much.”
“You said,” Victoria studied this man’s face closely, “you said that Peter always tried to avoid anyone getting hurt because he had seen too much killing when he was young. What do you know about that?”
“He apparently saw some very bad things when he was at sea,” John replied gently. “He told me a few things, things I don’t think he’d like for me to share with you. It was pretty rough stuff.”
“I see,” she closed her eyes and tried to contain her emotions. It was just as Tom had feared; their son had indeed seen terrible things in his years away from them.
John reached out to pat her arm, “Don’t worry. Peter may have seen some bad things, but they didn’t make him a bad man. He perhaps grew up a little quickly but he grew into a man who loves life. Now he’s the best at playing a role, and I don’t know what side of him that he let you see. He can play at being a pretty rough cuss when he needs to, but trust me when I tell you that he’s a real good man, the kind you like to call friend.”
“Thank you, Mr., Mr., I’m sorry I don’t know your name,” Victoria opened her eyes and managed a soft smile.
“Just John. That’s one of the things we do. We tend to just use our first names, one of the ways we go about protecting our identities a little. We’re always making up last names to use when we’re working undercover but we tend to keep our first names.”
“Well, John, thank you for those kind words about Peter. He’s been away from us so long, and we’ve had no idea where he’s been and what he’s been doing,” she now reached out to touch his arm. “I would love to hear any stories that you would care to share.”
The older deputy marshal named John smiled and leaned back to look out the window. There were still a few travelers standing around the train, but Evans seemed to have everything under control. He turned to smile at Victoria, “Well, it looks like all I’ve got to do is to wait until William and the boys come back. Guess telling a few stories will help move time along.”
“Is it true, the story about him running straight up the side of a building in Chicago?” the younger deputy, Michael, asked eagerly, obviously happy at this opportunity to hear firsthand about Peter the Great’s escapades.
“What?” Nick shouted. He’d never heard anything so outlandish.
But John laughed and nodded, “Pretty much. I was with him. We’d gotten ourselves in a bit of jam, found ourselves having to get away from a gang of hooligans in a hurry. We decided to split up. I turned to go up the street, and Peter started into an alley. The whole gang was coming up the street after me, when I heard Peter give this whistle and loud shout. I turned, the whole gang turned to see Peter standing at the front of the alley. He yelled a rather insulting epithet and the gang took off after him. I was sorta stunned, so I just stood there for a moment. And I watched Peter turn and jump up on a first floor window sill. It was a narrow alley so he jumped across the alley to the top of the window on the other side and then he just kept jumping back and forth between the two buildings right up to the top. Those hooligans just stood there. I took off down the street and Peter went across the roof tops. It was just incredible.”
“So, you were with him in Chicago, and this was when?” Victoria wanted desperately to fill in the years since Peter had left them. If he had been 19 when he returned to America and John had known him two years before he was 21, then he must have joined the marshals shortly after he landed. Of course, that was if he had told the truth about being gone from America for five years.
“Umm, about six years ago” John, knowing what she was trying to do, did his best to recall. “We were only in Chicago about six weeks that time.”
That would have made Peter just 22 and John had said that he helped Peter celebrate his 21st birthday, Victoria thought quickly, “So, you had worked together before? Where? When?”
John smiled at her softly and thought he would do his best, “Actually, I met Peter right after he joined the marshals. William had met him when he was putting together a game to recover some gold, umm, misplaced during the war. Peter was first mate on a ship coming in from England. William needed a good seaman to play out the game and Peter fit the bill. He did so well that William offered him a job. I met Peter in Charleston right after he joined up. First time I met him, he looked like an Irish thug right off the ship from Dublin, complete with the brogue. I thought William had made a mistake, well, that at least he certainly had his work cut out for him to smooth off the rough edges on this Irishman. Two weeks later, I ran into Peter at the Governor’s Ball, dressed up in a tuxedo, dancing waltzes with the prettiest girls, teasing them in this soft Southern accent, throwing some French in now and then. I realized that I had met a master actor. We finished that little game together . . . another case of some misplaced funds. William split us up then, don’t know where Peter was for the next six months or so, but then we were in St. Louis together, Peter was playing a professional gambler on a Mississippi riverboat and I was his unlucky mark as we tried to bait a pair of shysters.”
“Is that where he got the cut on this face?” Gene interrupted.
“No, that was several years later. I wasn’t with him when that happened, but it did happen on a riverboat on the Mississippi,” John shook his head.
“He said that it was from a sore loser,” Gene repeated what Peter had told them.
“Hmm, that’s about half right. I wasn’t there, but one of the other boys was. Adam said Peter put himself between this drunken fool and some girl he was threatening. The guy pulled a knife on Peter, and the girl got in the way. To protect her, Peter took the cut on his face and a blade in his shoulder then he proceeded to beat the drunk into the deck of the ship. Peter never did abide by a man threatening to hurt a woman.”
“After St. Louis?” Jarrod prompted, wanting to keep John on track.
“Hmm, we split up again but about six months later we were back together. This time in Kansas City and then on up to Omaha, trailing a counterfeiter. That’s where we celebrated Peter’s 21st birthday, in a very fine establishment in the middle of that god awful town. Right after that, William sent us and a few other boys down to Austin to handle an investigation on some land fraud. That’s where I learned that Peter had grown up on a ranch. His riding and roping skills came in handy down there. He fit in real well with those Texas cattlemen. Could talk their business, understood their jokes. I also learned he could speak not only French but also Spanish fluently. That skill also came in handy as we chased our target all the way to the border. Peter actually roped and hog-tied one fellow just before he crossed the Rio Grande,” John hesitated and chuckled as he remembered the scene.
“I’ve heard that story,” Michael interjected. “They say Peter charged through a barrage of gunfire and took his horse over a six foot rock wall to catch that fellow.”
“Well, don’t remember it being exactly a barrage of gunfire,” John decided to spare Peter’s mother a little worry. It had been pretty bad; he’d never understood how Peter had made it across that quarter mile of open ground without getting hit. “But he did take that horse over that wall just as pretty as you please.”
“And then?” it was Nick’s turn to encourage the storyteller.
“Ah, let’s see, we split up again. I think Peter might have been in Atlanta and then maybe back up to New York. Don’t know what he was working on. I know he was in Boston for a short time and I know he did guard one shipment of gold to the mint at Philadelphia at some point along the way. Shoot it must have been more than a year before we worked another game together. See, Peter and I were both pretty senior in William’s organization. We were both leading games or working things on our own. William put us back together in Louisville for another counterfeiter. Oh, yeah, before that Peter must have been back on the Mississippi because that’s when he showed up with the scars. The job in Louisville took us up to Chicago. That’s when Peter did the little building climbing trick. He was just so damn strong. If he could hook two fingers into a little crevice he could pull his whole body up. He said it was from all those years of loading cargo and hoisting sails.”
“Adam said that he could do 10 chin ups with one hand,” Michael added.
“Ten, shoot, I’ve seen him do 25 without even turning red in the face; and one time, on a bet, he did 50,” John chuckled.
“And after Chicago?” Jarrod asked.
“We got separate assignments again. Peter was in Columbus, if I remember right. Yeah, that’s right, he was investigating a little problem in the governor’s office. Some misuse of funds. After that, we both met up with William in Chicago, did a little cleanup on the job we’d done before. We were there maybe three months. Then William sent Peter on a long-term assignment down to New Orleans, something having to do with some bank fraud problems. We agreed that we’d meet back up in Louisville in six months, drink us some mint juleps, bet on some fast horses, dance lots of waltzes with pretty girls. When I got there, William met me and told me that Peter had quit the marshals. I was afraid he’d gotten killed, but William told me that Peter just said it was time for him to move onto his next life,” John smiled a little sadly. “See, that’s how he referred to his past. He had different lives, he said, past lives. The ranch, the sea, the marshals, all separate. So, I guess the marshals became a past life for him also.”
“You don’t know where he went, do you?” Victoria asked softly.
“Nope, William did, though. He’d occasionally let it slip that he’d seen Peter and that he was doing well, but he’d never say where. I think it was part of his need to protect Peter’s identity. Peter had put a lot of men in jail through the years and the last thing anybody wanted was to let slip where Peter was, just in case someone might be looking for a little retribution.”
“So, that was five years ago, when he left the marshals,” Jarrod said. When John nodded, Jarrod added, “He was with the marshals, what, about four years?”
“Yep, that’s right, ’65 to ’69. Good years,” John smiled widely. “We caught a lot of ‘bad men’ in those years.”
“Sounds as if Peter spent most of his time on the move during those years,” Nick murmured.
“That’s the way the job is, you don’t usually stay long in one place. Of course, Peter was used to that, all those years he spent sailing, going clear around the world before he was 20 years old. Pretty incredible, isn’t it,” John grinned widely.
“I guess that’s one word for it,” Jarrod replied.
Audra spoke for the first time, “It seems sad to me. Always on the move, no home.”
“Ah, Peter always said that home was just a state of mind,” John said. “Of course, I’m not sure I understood exactly what he meant. I think he considered coming back here a couple of times, but something always got in the way. Once he made it as far as Denver and then came back. Don’t know what stopped him that time. I really thought this is where he came when he left the marshals.”
“Well,” Victoria whispered. “That’s not the case. Thank you, though, John, for telling us a little about what Peter has been doing. I hope you realize that we’re just so surprised to learn he was once a deputy marshal.”
“Ah, Mrs. Barkley,” John grinned. “He wasn’t just a deputy marshal, he was a legend, he was Peter the Great.”
“I remember when he started calling himself that,” Jarrod said softly. “He was, what, Nick, seven, eight?”
“About that. Him and me used to play at being knights, jousting in the meadow, pretend sword fights in the woods. I was always Sir Nicholas. I would make him be my squire. He hated that. One day in school the teacher started telling us about this Russian emperor, Peter the Great. Pete started making me call him Peter the Great whenever we were playing.”
“Ah, I always wondered about that,” John chuckled. “It was always so much fun to have William tell him he’d done good on something and Peter smile that big smile of his and say ‘No, I did great, because I am Peter the Great.’ And he’d throw his arms out like he was embracing the whole world.”
“Adam said once that Peter was an incredible actor, that he should have been on the stage,” Michael said.
“Hmm, maybe that’s what he did when he left the marshals,” John mused. “He was incredible. He could change his personality in the blink of an eye. One time we were hiding, waiting for a gang to ride into town, when this little old lady drove her buggy right up in the middle of where everything was going to happen. This lady must have been 100 years old. She’s taking forever to get out of the buggy and then she’s trying to carry this basket into the store. All of a sudden, I see Peter break cover and walk across the road to her. He smiles that charming smile of his and convinces her to let him, a stranger, help her. He’s just chatting with her, going slow and easy. The marks ride in while he’s getting her into the store. Peter walks out of the store back across the street just as calm as you please. But one of the riders must have suspected something was up because he goes for his gun. Peter’s back is to him and I’m thinking Peter’s got no idea what’s happening. Should have known better. Peter could see it all in a reflection in a store window. He does this incredible thing. One second he’s walking along and the next he takes a running jump and then launches himself off a hitching post and backwards into this guy before he can get a shot off. Peter wrestles his gun from him, the rest of us all break cover and take care of the others. No shots fired; nobody hurt; Peter the Great triumphs again.”
The group laughed softly. Suddenly, John’s expression changed. He leaned back to look out the window and announced, “Riders are coming back in. It’s probably all over.”
Victoria’s stomach jumped. “Oh, please let Peter be all right,” she thought.
Continued…