Chapter 9

             

             Jarrod stood off to the side of the billiards table as Nick bent to take a shot. Victoria sat on the sofa doing what she’d done so often since Heath had joined their family, sewing a button back on one of his shirt cuffs.  Within days of Heath’s arrival, she’d come to realize that he unconsciously twisted his cuff buttons whenever he was nervous or uncomfortable.  For some reason, he’d loosened five in the last two weeks, yet she hadn’t seen that old habit of worrying buttons employed in front of her for months now. 

 

            He must be catching them on something outside.  A stall, or a baling hook, or possibly on that new barbed wire fence he and Nick have been stringing.

 

            Jarrod was leaning on his cue stick, staring out the big windows that overlooked the front of the ranch.  He didn’t hear Nick until his brother had called his name for a third time.

 

            “Jarrod.  Come on!  It’s your shot.”

 

            “Oh.”  Jarrod turned back to the table. “Sorry.”

 

            Jarrod took a quick shot that sent the eight ball sailing.  It missed the remaining four balls on the table, but the lawyer barely took notice.  He straightened and stepped back.

 

            “There you go, brother.  The table’s all yours.”

 

            Nick shook his head. “There’s no point in continuing the game if you’re just going to let me win.”

 

            “Let you win?”

 

            “Yeah.  You haven’t been paying attention since we started.  I don’t even know why you suggested we play.”

 

            Jarrod heaved a sigh that sounded like it came all the way from his toes.  “You’re right, Nick.  I’m sorry.  I...I’ve got a lot of things on mind.  I apologize for wasting your time.”

 

            “That’s all right.” Nick took his brother’s cue stick and walked over to a glass cabinet. He put both the sticks away, and then returned to the table where he retrieved the balls from the pockets.  He put them in the rack and rolled it to the center of the table.  “Maybe Heath will wanna play a couple of games when he comes in.”

 

            “Did he go riding with Audra?” Jarrod asked.

 

            “No. He told her to go without him. He’s in the tack room mending a saddle.”

 

            Nick walked over to a round table and picked up a bottle of whiskey.  “Jarrod?”

 

            “No.  None for me thanks.”

 

            “Mother?  Can I get you anything?  An after-dinner sherry?  Or a glass of brandy?”

 

            “No, dear.  Nothing.”  Victoria picked up her scissors and clipped the end of the white thread.  She tested the button she’d just sewn to make sure it was tight.  She retied her thread, then started in on another button.

 

            Jarrod smiled as he watched his mother work.  “Heath’s losing buttons again?”

 

            “Yes,” Victoria replied without taking her eyes from her sewing.  “And at a rate I haven’t seen since the first month he lived with us.  I don’t know what he’s catching these on.”

 

            “What makes you so sure he’s catching them on something?”

 

            Victoria looked up. “What do you mean?”

 

            “What makes you sure he’s catching them on something, as opposed to twisting them off like he used to?”

 

            “Just what I said.  I haven’t seen him twist his buttons in months now.”

 

            Jarrod’s quiet words were muttered and distant as he walked to the windows with his hands shoved in the front pockets of his trousers.  “Maybe he just doesn’t let us see.”

 

            Nick exchanged a puzzled glance with his mother as he rested one hip on a corner of the desk.  “What did you say, Jarrod?”

            “Nothing, I...” Jarrod turned to face his family. “Nothing.”

 

            Victoria watched as her oldest son began to pace between the fireplace and desk.  When she’d counted six trips back and forth, with a seventh to come, she asked, “Jarrod, are you all right?  You’ve been preoccupied ever since you came home.  You barely said a word at dinner.”

 

            “Mother’s right. And barely saying a word at dinner isn’t your job, Counselor, it’s Heath’s.”

 

            Jarrod smiled at his brother.  He thought a long moment, then walked over to the study doors and closed them.  Victoria and Nick exchanged glances once again, but neither of them asked Jarrod any further questions.  They had a feeling they would soon enough hear what was on his mind.

 

            The lawyer took a seat in a high backed chair.  He looked up at Nick.  “I think I’ll have that drink now, Nicholas.  Make it a brandy.”

 

            Nick poured his brother the requested drink, walked it over to him, and took up residence in the chair next to him.  He plunked his boots on the coffee table, then looked at Jarrod and said, “Well?”

 

            “Well what?”

 

            “What’s goin’ on?  What’s bothering you?”

 

            Jarrod looked from Nick to Victoria, who was seated across from her sons.  She stopped sewing and gave Jarrod her full attention.

 

            The lawyer took a long swig of brandy before starting.

 

            “I had two unexpected visitors at my office today.”

 

            “Who?” Nick asked.

 

            “An army major by the name of Christian Fletcher, and another man by the name of Garrett Reece.  A. Garrett Reece.”

 

            Victoria did a double take.  “You mean A. Garrett Reece, as in the United States Attorney General?”

 

            “That’s exactly who I mean.”

 

            “What did the attorney general want with you?” Nick asked.

 

            “I wouldn’t exactly say he wanted me.”

 

            “Who did he want then?”         

 

            “Matt Bentell.”

 

            “Matt?  Why?  What’s goin’ on now?  Why can’t these people just leave well enough alone and--”

 

            Jarrod held up a hand. “Nick, pipe down.  First of all, what I’m about to say isn’t to leave this room.  And second of all it...well, it could involve Heath, too, and I don’t know if I can be objective where he’s concerned.  I need...” Jarrod looked from his brother to his mother.  “I’m in bad need of some opinions I can trust.  Opinions that I know have Heath’s best interests at heart.”

 

            Jarrod’s last two sentences told his mother and brother that whatever was going on was serious, and had the lawyer torn in terms of the correct way to proceed.  Jarrod drained his glass, set it on the coffee table, and then began his story.  Fifteen minutes later, he finished it by saying, “I didn’t tell them.  I handed that paper back to Reece without telling him that I not only know where one of the men on that list is, but that as well, that man is my brother.”

 

            Silence lingered in the room when Jarrod’s tale came to an end.  Even Nick was left speechless for a minute.  He finally pushed himself to his feet, walked over to the liquor table, and poured himself another shot of whiskey.  He downed it in one swallow, and then did the same with a second shot.  When he was finished, Nick set his shot glass down and took up pacing where Jarrod had left off.

 

            “You know, just when I think this Bentell situation can’t get any worse, it does.”

 

            “I know, Nick.  I felt the same way this morning after Reece and Fletcher left my office.”

 

            Victoria set Heath’s shirt aside.  All thoughts of loose buttons vanished in the face of this latest development regarding Matthew Bentell.

 

            “The first question I have is this.  Does the attorney general have the right, the legal right, to request that we not tell Matt about his visit and the purpose behind it?”

 

            “No, Mother, he doesn’t.  I scoured several law texts this afternoon looking for that exact answer, and wired one of my old law school professors just to make certain I was correct.  I got his answer back right before I left the office.  Since no charges have been filed against Matt at this time, and he’s not considered a fugitive from justice, then there’s nothing that prevents me from telling him what Reece is planning to do.”

 

            “All right, now for my second question.  Can the attorney general do anything to us if we don’t tell him Heath is on his list?”

 

            “That one I don’t have a clear cut answer to.  I’m inclined to say no, but it depends on how far his investigation proceeds - on whether or not he actually gains evidence that could bring Matt to trial.”

 

            “This sounds like a real no-win situation to me,” Nick said as he sat back down.

 

            “In more ways than you realize, Nicholas.”

 

            “How so?”

 

            “I did some other research this afternoon over at the newspaper office. I knew Garrett Reece had been one of President Grant’s military aides during the war.  What I didn’t realize was how valuable the man was to Grant - and to the Union effort.  Nor that he’d been cited numerous times for bravery in combat.”

 

            “So what you’re saying is, that when Reece told you this investigation has the president’s blessing, then what he really means is the president is a close personal friend who had a hard time tellin’ him no.”

 

            “That’s what I mean.  Or at least, that’s what I surmise.  And I also found out something else that’s interesting.  Very interesting, as a matter of fact.”

 

            “What would that be?”

 

            “Reece lost his only son to the war.  An eighteen-year-old boy named Avery.  Avery Garrett Reece, Junior.”  Jarrod looked from his mother to his brother, then back again.  “He died at Carterson Prison.”

 

            Again, silence filled the room.  And again, it was Nick who broke it.

 

            “Like I said, just when I think this couldn’t get any worse.”

 

            “Yes,” Victoria agreed with Nick.  “But really, what are the chances that Heath knew this boy?”

            Nick cocked an eyebrow.  “With the way things have gone ever since we hired Matt Bentell, would you like me to quote you odds?”

 

            Nick’s words provided just the right amount of comic relief.  It was Jarrod who returned the conversation to a serious vein. 

 

            “No, I don’t want you to quote any odds. Hopefully, Lady Luck will be on our side with this one.  There were over three thousand men in Carterson.  We can only pray Avery Reece is one Heath never met personally.”

 

            Victoria wholeheartedly agreed with her oldest son’s words.  “You said there was an army major with Mr. Reece.”

 

            “Yes.  A man by the name of Christian Fletcher.”

 

            “Why’d he come along?” Nick asked. “To arrest Bentell?”

 

            “No.  I don’t believe so.  I have a feeling he was sent along to talk any Carterson survivor they find into testifying.”

 

            “How?”

 

            “By forming an instant bond with the man.  Or men.”

 

            “Okay. So I ask again. How?”

 

            “Fletcher spent two years in Andersonville.”

 

            “Oh, I get it now.” The disdain in Nick’s tone was plain to hear.  “Reece and Fletcher are going to play a little blood brother game of manipulation.  Fletcher will hold a little pity party with the Carterson survivors and get them whipped into some kinda justice-crazed frenzy.  And just how much are they willing to pay any Carterson man to testify on behalf of Reece’s personal vendetta?”

 

            “I don’t know.  I hope nothing.  But...” Jarrod shrugged. “I don’t know either of these men well enough to even guess at what might happen before all of this comes to an end.” 

 

            The lawyer stood and walked to the fireplace.  He looked down at the logs.

 

            “Major Fletcher said some things I’ve been mulling over all day.  Things about former prisoners of war that I’m, quite frankly, very ignorant about.”

 

            “What things?”  Victoria asked.

 

            Jarrod turned around.  He rested one foot on the hearth while leaning back against the stones.

 

            “He asked me if I was aware that ninety-seven percent of all former POW’s suffer from nightmares.  He asked if I knew that one in twenty-five of them will commit suicide because of overwhelming feelings of loneliness and isolation.  He asked me if I realized that the life expectancy of most former POW’s falls short of other men in their age group, because of the physical hardships they endured.  He said these men will be haunted by their experiences for the remainder of their lives in ways the rest of us can’t understand, or see.”

 

            “Oh hogwash,” Nick scoffed.  “That sounds like the exact kind of propaganda Reece and Fletcher have dreamed up to lay on every Carterson survivor they find.”

 

            “I don’t know, Nick.  Fletcher...there was something about the man that led me to believe he’s not lying.  Nor would waste his time on useless propaganda.  Where’s Heath?”

 

            “What?”

 

            “I asked you where Heath is.”

 

            “I know what you asked me.  And I told you not thirty minutes ago he’s outside in the tack room.”

 

            “Exactly.  He’s alone.  If you give it some thought, you’ll realize that Heath spends a lot of time alone.”

 

            “Oh, Jarrod, come on!  You spend a lotta time alone, too!  You always have.”

 

            “Nick’s right, Jarrod,” Victoria confirmed. “Even when you were very young you were content to play by yourself.  You never showed a desire for the constant companionship of others in the way Nick, Audra, and Eugene did.”

 

            Jarrod had no reply to offer his mother and brother.  They were right.  Although he had a large circle of friends and acquaintances, and one woman special to him who resided in San Francisco, he was a man who enjoyed nothing more than a quiet night at home with a good book.  But there wasn’t some driving force burning beneath the isolation Jarrod sometimes chose for himself, like he sensed was behind Heath’s craving for isolation.  Yet how did he put what was nothing but an abstract observation into words?  It would be so much easier if they had known Heath as a child.  Then they’d have some means of discerning if, and how, the war had changed him.

 

            Jarrod shook his thoughts off and focused on what Nick was now saying.

 

            “And he doesn’t have nightmares.”

 

            “How do you know?”

 

            Nick looked at his brother as though Jarrod had lost his mind.  “Because a person who has nightmares wakes up screaming.  Remember the one’s Audra used to have when she was little?”

            “Only because you told her stories no five-year-old child should be hearing right before she goes to bed,” Victoria admonished.

 

            “Yeah well, regardless, that’s what happens when a person has a nightmare. He wakes up screaming.  I’ve bunked with Heath a lot of nights at the line shacks, and out under the stars, since he came here.  He doesn’t have nightmares.  I’ve never seen anyone who falls asleep as fast as he does.”

 

            “That might be so, Nick, but now that I think back on the weeks since Bentell arrived, I’ve found Heath down here, in this room, two different times when I’ve arrived home late.  Right after he came back from the logging camp I ran across him in here at midnight, and then last Wednesday I found him in here when I arrived from San Francisco.  That was after one in the morning.”

 

            “So did you ask him why he was up so late?”

 

            “Yes. And he never answered me.  Both times he changed the subject, asked me about my day, then said good night.”

 

            Victoria looked from one son to the other.  “I found him sitting on the back veranda steps at three-thirty in the morning about two weeks ago.”

 

            “What’d he have to say that time?” Nikc asked.

            “Nothing.  He was...it was almost like he was lost in thought.  Or like his mind was some place far away.  I got the impression he didn’t want to be disturbed, and when I asked him just that, he acknowledged it, and told me he’d rather be alone.”

 

            “So what’d you do?”

 

            “What was I supposed to do, Nick?  I respected his wishes, came back in the house, and returned to bed.  But I know he never went back to bed.”

 

            “How?”

 

            “I didn’t fall asleep.  I never heard him come up the stairs.  But that morning he was at the breakfast table with the rest of us, so I didn’t think anymore about it.”

 

            “Just because Heath is suffering from what sounds like nothing more than a bout of insomnia, doesn’t mean he’s having nightmares.  Look, Jarrod, I’m not saying this Fletcher guy is wrong in what he told you.  He was in Andersonville, I wasn’t.  So, overall, I don’t have any reason to doubt him.  But we don’t need him here causing trouble for Heath.  You saw what happened when Bentell first arrived.  You saw how out of control Heath was. How furious he was.  I’d never seen him like that before, and I hope to never see him like that again.  I was afraid he just might kill Bentell if he got the chance.  But whatever happened up at the logging camp happened for the best.  Not that I wanted my brother’s skull to be cracked open by a rock, but if Bentell saving Heath’s life and then taking care of him afterwards, helped Heath put Carterson behind him to some degree, then I say good.  Heath came back from that logging camp a different man from who he was when he left here. We all saw that.  He was joking with Matt, he’d talk to him, he’d do whatever we asked without saying a word about it.”

 

            Jarrod gave a thoughtful nod. “That’s right, Nick.  Heath would do whatever we asked. And now I wonder if we had the right to ask it in the first place.”

 

            “You damn well thought so when Bentell arrived!”

 

            “Nick, that’s enough,” Victoria said.  “There’s no use in getting upset over decisions made weeks ago. What’s done is done.  We have several bigger issues facing us now.”

 

            “Yes, we do,” Jarrod agreed.  He pushed himself away from the fireplace and claimed the corner of the desk Nick had been sitting on earlier.  “I’m heading up to the logging camp tomorrow to talk to Matt.”

 

            “What are ya’ gonna tell him?”

 

            “The same exact thing Garrett Reece told me. That the government has reopened the Carterson investigation.”

 

            “And then?”

 

            “And then...well, as much as I hate to say this, I hope Matt and Lucinda make the decision to move on.  To leave us, and find work elsewhere.  I won’t ask them to do that.  Nor suggest it.  The choice will be theirs.  But in the end, I believe that will be the best course of action for all concerned.”

 

            “Especially for Heath, you mean.”

 

            “Yes, Nick.  That’s what I mean.”

 

            “I agree with you, Jarrod,” Victoria spoke up from the sofa. “If this investigation of the attorney general’s progresses, then it will be best for Heath if Matt isn’t a Barkley employee.  But I also agree that it would be wrong for us to fire Matt.”

 

            Jarrod looked at his brother.  “And what about you?  Do you agree with my line of thinking?”

 

            “Yeah.  Short of firing Matt, I can’t come up with any other alternatives. And like Mother said, we have no reason to do that.”

 

            “All right, I’ll leave in the morning.  After I return, and have a better idea of what the Bentells will do, I’ll talk to Heath.”

 

            Nick gave a low whistle.  “I don’t envy you that conversation.  What will you tell him?”

 

            “The truth, just like I told you and Mother.  From there, it will be Heath’s decision as to whether or not he goes to see the attorney general.

 

            Victoria thought a moment before asking her next question.  “Jarrod, as a lawyer, what would you advise Heath to do?”

            “I’d advise him to stay out of Stockton until Reece has left.  I’d advise him not to get involved unless he’s forced to.  Heath has one advantage going for him, and that’s the fact that his name is shown as Thomson on Reece’s list, as opposed to Barkley.  If we’re lucky, that will make it difficult for the government to track him down.”

 

            “That’s advice I hope he takes,” Victoria said. 

 

            Nick nodded. “He will.  There’s no way Heath is gonna want to get caught up in the middle of this mess.  Maybe a few weeks ago I couldn’t have said that.  But now I can. No way.” Nick headed for the study doors, an indication that this conversation was over as far as he was concerned.  “Heath won’t wanna talk to Reece at all.  Not at all.”

 

            Later that night, as Jarrod sat at the desk in his bedroom, Nick’s words kept running through his mind. 

 

            He won’t wanna talk to Reece at all.  Not at all.

 

            “I wish I could be as certain as you, Nick,” the lawyer muttered as he blew out the lamp.  “I wish to God I could be as certain as you.”

 

___________________________________

             

 

            Blood was everywhere.  It splattered the white walls with random splotches of red, some stretching to three feet in length.  It ran off the table like spilled milk and pooled on the floor, making it impossible to walk without slipping.  Heath screamed when he saw the source of all that blood.  He cradled his head in his hands and sank to the cold floor.  He scrambled for the door on all fours; his horror increasing as his frantic escape caused him to splash through puddles of blood.  He didn’t understand any of what he’d seen.  Or why it had been done.  But he did know one thing.  He had to run.  He had to run before they did the same to him.

 

___________________________________

 

 

            The cowboy moaned in his sleep.  He was so exhausted that the nightmares no longer had the strength to waken him.  Sweat ran down his face as his head tossed back and forth on his pillows.  He moaned again, and then cried out his terror in a strangled yell.

___________________________________

    

            Nick sat up in bed.  He cocked his head toward his open window, trying to determine what had brought him out of a deep sleep. He tossed back his covers and stood.

 

            If those damn coyotes are up by the barn again, I’ll camp out there every night from now until I’ve shot every single one of ‘em.

 

            Nick looked out into the still darkness.  He didn’t see any movement in the ranch yard, nor did he hear any panicked squawks coming from the chicken coop.

 

            He walked away from the window.  He stood in the middle of the dark room, his brow furrowed with concentration.  When one minute had passed and no disturbances sounded from inside the house or out, he moved toward his bed.  He was just about to climb in, when he heard it again.  Whatever it was, it sounded like a cross between a yell and whimper.

 

            Nick pulled his pants on and fastened the buttons.  He opened his door and padded barefoot into the hall. He knew Heath’s room was the only one close enough that allowed him to hear the muffled sounds of a dresser drawer shutting, or the closet door opening.  Thus, logic told Nick if he was hearing the sounds of someone having a restless night, it had to be coming from his younger brother’s room.

 

            The cowboy stopped in front of Heath’s closed door.  He listened hard, but didn’t hear anything other than what sounded like Heath tossing and turning in bed.  Nick rapped lightly on the wood.  He didn’t want to rouse the rest of the family at two o’clock in the morning.  When Nick got no answer, he rapped again, and this time called in a voice just above a whisper,  “Heath?  Heath, are you awake?”      

 

            Again, Nick received no answer.  He eased Heath’s door open and peeked his head in.  He could barely discern his brother’s shape curled under the covers in the dark room.  He could tell Heath’s back was to him, but that was the extent of what he could see.

 

            “Heath?”  Nick questioned, again being careful to keep his voice low.  “Heath, are you okay?  Heath?”

 

            When Nick still received no answer, and when Heath went on sleeping as though he was totally oblivious to his brother’s presence, the dark headed man shrugged his shoulders.  He closed the door as quietly as he’d opened it, and headed back to his room.

 

            I must be hearing things. 

 

            Within five minutes of his sojourn down the hall, Nick was sleeping again.

 

___________________________________

 

 

            As soon as the guard left the room, Heath’s eyes popped open.  He was huddled into a tight ball under his covers, trembling so hard the mattress shook beneath him.

 

            He’s gone.  He’s gone.  It’s okay. He’s gone now.  He can’t hurt me ‘cause he’s gone now.

 

            It was an hour after Nick’s departure before the combination of nightmare and flashback came to an end.  Heath slowly released the sweat-soaked blankets he had clenched around his shoulders, and rolled to his back.  He stared up at the ceiling, so lost and so alone, as silent tears ran down the sides of his face.          

 

 

Chapter 10

           

            Jarrod was at his office at seven on Tuesday morning.  By the time Karen arrived at eight forty-five, Jarrod had accomplished what he needed to prior to leaving for the lumber camp.

 

            Karen was surprised when her boss greeted her at the door.  And even more so, when she realized he was dressed in ranching clothes, as opposed to a suit.

 

            “Good morning, Karen.”

 

            “Good morning, Mr. Barkley.”  She looked at the files stacked on her desk. “You must have gotten an early start today.”

 

            “I did.”  Jarrod followed his secretary as she walked to her desk. “Something has come up that’s going to force me to be away from the office for a couple of days.  I’d like to go over a few things with you before I leave.”

 

            “Yes, sir.”

 

            An hour after that, Jarrod was riding Jingo out of Stockton.  He arrived at the lumber camp the next afternoon. He’d passed worked crews along the way, but didn’t stop to investigate whether or not Matt Bentell was amongst the men.  He assumed he would get a more timely answer to Matt’s location from the man’s wife.

 

            Lucinda Bentell was just taking a peach pie out of the oven when she heard a horse ride up in front of the cabin. She looked out of the window to see Jarrod Barkley dismounting Jingo.  She glanced in the mirror hanging by the door.  She tucked a few stray wisps of hair back into their clips, wiped a dot of flour from her chin, and straightened her apron. She opened the door just as Jarrod was lifting a hand to knock.

 

            “Jarrod, what a surprise!  Come in.”

 

            “Hello, Lucinda.  How are you?”

            “I’m fine.” The woman stepped away from the door so Jarrod could enter the cozy cabin.  “Just fine.”

 

            Jarrod removed his hat, while looking around the large main room that served as both kitchen and living area. A set of stairs came down from above that Jarrod knew led to the bedrooms on the second story.  He smiled his approval. “You done wonders with this place.”

 

            “All it needed was a woman’s touch, a broom to sweep the floors and bat down the cobwebs, and some curtains at the windows.”

 

            “It looks marvelous.”

            Lucinda beamed with pride.  One of the wealthiest men in California was standing in the kitchen of her log cabin and telling her how nice it looked, and what a wonderful housekeeper she was.  Now that the lawyer saw with his own eyes how much a home meant to her, maybe Jarrod and his family would make good on their promise to build her and Matt a new house when they moved to Oregon.

 

            “I assume you’re here to see Matthew?  To talk to him about the lumber camp up in Oregon perhaps?”

 

            Jarrod gave Lucinda his hat and watched as she hung it on the rack behind the door.  “Yes, I am here to see Matt.  And I apologize for not sending word I was coming for a visit ahead of my arrival, but something...something has come up rather suddenly.”

 

            “Not bad news, I hope.  Is everyone all right?  Your mother... Audra...Nick… Heath?  Or your brother who’s away at college?  Eugene...is that his name?”

            “Yes, Eugene.  And no. No bad news of that sort. Everyone’s fine. There are just some things I need to discuss with Matt that couldn’t wait.  I suppose he’s out with one of the crews?”

 

            “Yes, he is, though I don’t know where.  But I imagine he’ll be home shortly. Please, sit down.  I just took a peach pie out of the oven.  Let me give you a slice along with a cup of coffee.  You can keep me company while I make dinner.  That is, if you don’t mind.”

 

            “No, I don’t mind.  But I didn’t intend to impose either.”

 

            “Oh, Jarrod, your visit is hardly an imposition.  And certainly you aren’t planning on turning around and riding out of here yet today?”

 

            “To tell you the truth, yes, that’s what I’m planning.  Silas packed enough food to last me two weeks.  He seems to have forgotten I don’t have the appetite of Nick or Heath.  So in light of that, I thought I’d head back just as soon as I’m done talking to Matt.”

 

            “Well, I won’t hear of it.  We have two bedrooms.  You’ll eat dinner with us, stay the night, and then let me cook you a good breakfast in the morning before you head for home.”

            Jarrod leaned back as the woman placed a slice of warm pie and a cup of coffee in front of him.  One bite of the sweet pie with its thick and flaky crust told him Lucinda Bentell cooked as good as she kept house.  The lawyer gave his hostess his most charming smile.  “Ma’am, I think you’ve just made me an offer I can’t refuse.  At least for dinner.”

 

            “Dinner it is,” Lucinda said, as she turned back to the counter to begin her supper preparations.  “But you’ll spend the night, too.”

 

            If you still want me to after you hear the news I bring, was Jarrod’s thought as he ate his pie and watched Lucinda Bentell work.

 

___________________________________

 

            Matt rode his horse up in front of the cabin late that afternoon.  He stopped the mare next to Jingo, and tied her to the hitching post.  Any puzzlement he had over who his visitor was ended when he saw the Barkley brand on Jingo’s rump.

 

            That looks like Jarrod’s horse.

 

            Jarrod was still seated at the table visiting with Lucinda when Matt walked in.

 

            “Jarrod!  Good to see you!”

 

            Jarrod stood and shook the man’s hand.  “Good to see you, too, Matt.”

 

            Matt hung his hat on the hook next to Jarrod’s, then walked over to his wife and gave her a kiss.  “I smell something cooking that makes a man mighty hungry.”

 

            “Roast chicken.  We’ll eat at six.  Jarrod’s going to eat with us, too.”

 

            “Well, of course he is.  Can’t have one of my bosses riding all the way up here, only to send him home without feeding him.”

 

            Matt led Jarrod toward the living area.  He indicated for the lawyer to sit in an easy chair that resided next to the fireplace.  The only other pieces of furniture this part of the house contained were a love seat and a rocking chair.  Since Jarrod couldn’t picture a tall man like Bentell being comfortable on either one of those for long, he knew he’d been offered Matt’s chair.  He did as his host requested and sat in the well-worn, comfortable chair, while Matt took a seat in the wooden rocker.  Lucinda continued to bustle around the kitchen, setting the table and keeping an eye on her dinner while the men talked.

 

            Jarrod opened the conversation by asking Matt questions about the lumber operation.  This seemed to relax both Matt and Lucinda, which was what Jarrod wanted.  He knew they had to be wondering about the purpose behind his sudden visit.  He didn’t need things starting off any more tense than they’d grow to become by the time he was finished speaking.

 

            “And I plan to have some of the men start clearing that burned acreage next week,” Matt said. “It’ll be a big project, but it has to be done if we ever hope to have that ground fertile again.”

 

            Jarrod nodded at Matt’s wisdom.  The burned acreage he was referring to was the large area of forest that the Condon brothers had started on fire.

 

            “Good thinking, Matt.  As you say, it has to be done.  Especially if we want to continue to log this camp, which we do for quite some time to come.”

 

            “That’s good to hear.  Cinda and I like this part of the country.  It’s quiet.  Peaceful.  Other than the sounds of the men working, there’s little disturbance.”

 

            Jarrod could imagine how important the isolation of this logging camp was to the Bentells.  Which made him hate all the more the news he was about to tell them.

 

            “Matt, I didn’t ride up here to just talk logging.  I...” Jarrod looked over at Lucinda, who was stirring a pot of gravy.  “Lucinda, perhaps you’d like to come and sit down, too.  I think you both need to hear this.”

 

            Lucinda looked at her husband with a pinched, anxious expression.  Matt gave her a confident smile.  “Come on, Cinda.  Come sit on the sofa.”

 

            The woman gave her gravy one last stir, then took it off the flame, covered the pan, and set it on the warming ledge.  She wiped her hands on a dishtowel and did as her husband requested.  When she was seated, Jarrod began.

 

            “Matt, Lucinda, I don’t know any other way to say this, so I’m going to come straight to the point. Two days ago I was paid a visit by our nation’s attorney general.”

 

            “You mean Reece?”  Matt asked.  “Garrett Reece?” 

 

            “Yes, that’s exactly who I mean.”

 

            “What did he want?”

 

            Jarrod’s gaze took in both husband and wife.  Lucinda sat forward on the sofa and fished for Matt’s hand.  He grasped it, and allowed her to squeeze as hard as she needed to. 

 

            “He wanted you, Matt.”

 

            “No!” Lucinda cried as tears began to flow from her eyes.  “No! No!”

 

            Matt leaned sideways in the rocker so he could wrap his arms around his wife. “Cinda, don’t cry.  Please.  Just calm down.  Let’s hear what Jarrod has to say before we get upset.”

 

            Jarrod waited until Matt got Lucinda calmed down enough so he had their full attention again.  The woman remained wrapped in her husband’s arms, her head resting against Matt’s shoulder.

 

            Jarrod told the Bentells everything Garrett Reece had said.  The only thing he left out was the part about the list that contained Heath’s name.  But Matt was too smart not to have already figured out exactly what Reece would need in order to bring him to trial again.

 

            “He’s looking for witnesses, isn’t he?  Carterson men to testify against me.”

 

            “Yes, Matt,” Jarrod nodded.  “That’s what he’s looking for.”

 

            “Heath?”

 

            Jarrod hesitated a moment, then said,  “I don’t know.  I haven’t spoken to Heath about this yet.  Ultimately, whether or not Heath talks to Reece, will be his choice.  I can’t stop him, or forbid it.  But my mother, Nick, and myself, are in agreement that it will be best if Heath doesn’t talk to Reece.  I hope that has some bearing on his decision.”

 

            “It doesn’t matter, Jarrod.  If it’s not Heath, it will be someone else.”

 

            “Yes. Quite likely it will be.”

 

            “So, did you come up here to fire me?”

            At those words, Lucinda’s tears started again.  She gave a strangled sob as she fled the room.  She lifted her skirts and flew up the stairs. Jarrod heard the slam of a bedroom door when she reached her destination. 

 

            “Matt, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to upset her.  Perhaps we should have had this conversation outside.”

 

            Matt cast a worried glance at the stairs, before turning his attention back to Jarrod. 

 

“You don’t need to apologize.  I would have had to tell her the truth eventually.  It’s just that the war, and everything that came with it, was hard on her.  So hard.  Her parents’ plantation was burned to the ground in the Battle of Vicksburg.  Cinda’s father was killed trying to defend what was his.  Her mother died not long after that.  The shock of it all, of seeing her husband get run through with a bayonet, was just too much for my mother-in-law.  Cinda was an only child.  She’s got some cousins scattered here and there, but no one she’s close to.  My situation isn’t much different.  My parents died thirty years ago during a cholera epidemic, and my brother died shortly before the war broke out. I’ve got three nephews, but the last time I saw them was at their father’s funeral.  For many years now, all Cinda and I have had is each other.  Our love for one another has gotten us through some pretty rough waters.  We thought our bad times were over.  After you offered me this job, and let me stay on after you found out who I was, we thought the past was behind us for good.  It’s just...it’s a shock to Cinda right now.  She’s scared.”

 

            “I’m sure she is.”

 

            “We’ll pack our things and be gone by the weekend.  Is that soon enough?”

 

            “Only if that’s what you want to do.”

            “Pardon?”

 

            “I didn’t come up here to fire you, Matt.  I simply came up here to let you know what’s going on.  And to advise you to hire an attorney in the event this does escalate to a trial.”

 

            Matt stood and walked over to the window.  He looked out toward the barn for a long time before turning to face Jarrod again.

 

            “I have no desire to run, Jarrod.  If I do, I’ll be running for the rest of my life.  Besides, it will be an effort in futility.  I know Garrett Reece by reputation only, but what I’ve heard leads me to conclude that if he’s determined to find me, he won’t stop looking until he does.”

 

            “That’s very brave of you, Matt.”

 

            “I don’t know if it’s brave or stupid, but that’s just the way it’s going to be. So, if Reece asks you for directions to this place, you go ahead and give them to him.”

 

            “I don’t believe that will be happening in the immediate future.  The investigation is just starting.   The attorney general has quite a lot of work to do before the possibility of a trial even exists.”

 

            “You said I should see a lawyer.”

 

            “Yes.  If nothing else, I think you should seek legal counsel in preparation of what might come to pass.”

 

            “Okay.  Then I hire you.”

 

            Jarrod shook his head.  “Matt, I’m sorry.  I truly am.  But I can’t.”

 

            “Because of Heath?”

 

            “Yes, because of Heath.  It would be a conflict of interest.  And even if Heath chooses not to talk to Reece, I still can’t.  I hope you understand.”

 

            “I do.  Heath’s your brother.  Your first loyalty should be to him.”

 

            “Yes, it should be.  But it’s not just a question of loyalty; it’s a question of me being caught in the middle between you and Heath.  I can’t do that.  Not to myself, not to my family, but most of all, not to Heath.”

 

            For the first time since Jarrod had brought up Garrett Reece’s name, Matt smiled.  “Things would be a bit tense around the supper table, huh?”

 

            Jarrod smiled in return.  “To say the least.  But that doesn’t mean I’m going to throw you to the wolves.  I have a good friend in San Francisco.  He’s an excellent attorney, and well-versed in criminal law.  I’m going to talk to him about this situation.  I don’t think I’ll have a problem convincing him to meet with you.”

 

            “Thank you, Jarrod.  I appreciate it.  Not many men in your position would do even that much for me.”

 

            Jarrod stood.  He patted Matt on the arm as he walked by him to retrieve his hat.  “No thanks are necessary.  I’ll contact you just as soon as I know anything further.”