Chapter 15

 

            Audra flew down the hill on Lady’s back, over the open field, and toward the road that would take her home.  She continued to keep a watchful eye out for Barkley ranch hands who might be working in the area, but didn’t see anyone.  It wasn’t until she came upon a bend in the Diamond River that she spotted two men riding away from her on horseback.  She recognized the men, and urged Lady to run even faster.

 

            “Nick! Jarrod!” Audra called as her horse raced toward the men. “Nick! Jarrod!”

 

            Nick pulled back on Coco’s reins when he heard horse hooves pounding up behind him, accompanied by a faint cry of, “Nick! Jarrod!”  He turned around in his saddle.

 

            “What the…I oughta put her over my knee and tan her hide for riding like that. She’ll break her damn fool neck.”

 

            “Who will break her neck?” Jarrod asked as he reined Jingo to a halt.

 

            “Audra.”

 

            Jarrod turned in his saddle as well, and saw his sister charging over the rough ground on Lady. 

 

“She hasn’t had her riding privileges taken away since Father saw her racing like that when she was eleven,” Jarrod said. “But perhaps, Nicholas, you and I need to invoke our prerogative as her older brothers and--”

 

            “Nick! Jarrod!” Audra reined Lady to a stop beside her brothers. “Hurry!  I need your help with--”

 

            Nick leaned back in his saddle and eyed his sister beneath the brim of his hat.  “Well now, young lady, exactly what has your britches on fire today?  Audra, if I ever see you ride like that again I’ll--”

 

            “Nick, shut up!”

 

            Nick arched an incredulous eyebrow.  “What’d you just say to me?”

 

            “I said shut up! Shut up and listen, will you?  Heath’s been shot. He’s--”

 

            “What? Where?”

 

            “He’s by father’s grave.  He’s been shot in the left shoulder, and on the left side of his head.  He’s unconscious.  I bandaged his wounds as best I could, but he’s bleeding heavily.”

 

            The men turned their horses around.

           

            “Audra,” Nick instructed, “ride to the south pasture. Phillip’s there with some of the men mending fences.  Have him get Doc Merar and the sheriff, then ride to the house and let Mother know we’re bringing Heath in.  Tell her to have plenty of hot water ready, and plenty of bandages.”

           

            “But what if he--”

 

            Jarrod gave his sister the best smile he could muster considering the news she’d just brought.  “He’ll be fine, honey.  Nick and I will take care of him.  You go find Phillip, then head home like Nick said.  We’ll be there with Heath just as soon as we can.”

 

            Audra nodded.  She watched her brothers kick their horses into a full gallop and head toward her father’s grave. She turned Lady in the opposite direction her brothers had taken as she raced off to locate Phillip. 

 

            All the while Audra rode, she prayed that Heath would be alive by the time Jarrod and Nick got him to the house.

 

 

              ___________________________________

 

 

            Nick and Jarrod didn’t untie the bandages Audra had secured to Heath’s wounds for fear of breaking any clots that might have formed.  Instead, Nick took his shirt off, ripped it in half, and used it to reinforce what his sister had in place.  As gently as they could, Jarrod and Nick lifted Heath to Coco’s back.  The man moaned at the pain the movement caused him, but remained unconscious.  Jarrod held Heath in place while Nick climbed on the horse behind him.  Once Nick had a firm grip around Heath’s stomach with his left hand, Jarrod put Coco’s reins into his right hand.

 

            The lawyer grabbed Heath’s hat from the ground and then hurried to Charger. He put the hat in one of Charger’s saddlebags before untying the horse and leading him to Jingo. Jarrod mounted Jingo while holding onto Charger’s reins.  When the men took off for the house, it was with Jarrod leading Charger, and Nick keeping Heath upright in Coco’s saddle.

 

            Blood still seeped into Heath’s bandages, but not at the rate it had been when Audra first left her brother to get help.  Nonetheless, Nick knew moving Heath was risky, especially on horseback.  Yet delaying things further by going to the ranch for a wagon, would have also presented risks.  Nick hoped he and Jarrod had made the right choice.  He could do nothing more than hang onto Heath while offering quiet words of encouragement as they rode.

 

            “We’ll be home soon, Heath, just hang on.  We’ll be home soon.  You’re gonna be okay.”

 

            For as angry as Nick had first been when he’d seen his sister riding her horse at breakneck speed, he was now thankful for her fearlessness and skills.  By the time he and Jarrod entered the front gates of the ranch, Audra was running toward them with the news that she’d found Phillip, and had dispatched the man to Stockton for the doctor and the sheriff.  Nick could see his mother and Silas coming out of the front door, and knew they had been watching for his and Jarrod’s arrival.

 

            Nick urged Coco past the barn and to the front of the house. Audra took Charger’s reins from Jarrod so the lawyer could ride up to the house and assist Nick with Heath.  The girl briefly laid her head against Charger’s massive neck and murmured, “He’ll be all right boy, he’ll be all right,” then led him to the barn.   One of the hired hands that had been employed by Tom Barkley since before Audra was born, entered with Jingo and Coco, and relieved Audra of her duties.

 

            “Go on, Audra,” the man urged. “Go up to the house. Your mother wants you to wait by the door for the doc and Frank.  I’ll tend to the horses.”

 

            Audra threw a, “Thank you, Will,” over her shoulder as she ran for the mansion.

 

            Jarrod and Nick carried Heath up to his room.  The bed had already been turned down, and there was hot water in a wash bowel on his nightstand that had been covered with a tin lid to keep it warm until the doctor arrived.  Stacks of clean cloths, towels, and rolls of bandages, were piled on the dresser.  While Jarrod and Victoria removed Heath’s shirt, gun belt, and boots, Nick tried to get a look beneath the bandages that had been put in place by Audra. 

 

            “How do the wounds look?” Victoria asked.

 

            “I can’t tell. Audra’s got these bandages on here good and tight.  I hate to remove ‘em if Doc Merar will be here soon.  If we break a clot, we might not be able to get the bleeding stopped.”

 

            Victoria eyed the red stained clothing belonging to Audra and Nick that had been used as bandages.  “He’s lost a lot of blood.”

 

            “Yeah, he has. Especially from that head wound.  That’s why I don’t want to take the chance of starting the bleeding again.  I think it’s best if we let Doc Merar decide what should be done.”

 

            “I think you’re right,” Victoria agreed. 

 

            Silas carried in another wash bowel of warm water and placed it on Heath’s dresser.  “Miz Barkley, do you need me to bring up anything else?”

 

            “Not right now, Silas,” Victoria said, as she dipped a cloth into the water the black man had just arrived with. “Please keep water warming on the stove. If Howard has to…if he has to do surgery, he’ll need it.”

 

            Silas gave the woman a sympathetic smile. He knew she was worried about Heath, and the possibility of surgery having to be done to remove bullets only concerned her more.

 

            “Yes, ma’am. I’ll keep water warming.”

 

            Victoria rang the excess water from the cloth, then crossed to the bed. She sat down on the mattress, wiping the cloth over Heath’s face and neck in an effort to clean the dust off that was clinging to him as a result of his day on Charger’s back.

 

            “Audra said she found him by your father’s grave?”

 

            “Yes,” Jarrod confirmed.

 

            “I don’t suppose there was any sign of who did this?”

 

            “We didn’t have time to search,” Nick said.  “As soon as Frank gets here we’ll go up there and have a look around.  Whoever it was, was probably long gone by the time Audra found Heath, or he’d have likely shot her, too.”

 

            Victoria didn’t even want to think about the possibility of her daughter having been shot as well.  It was bad enough that one of her children had been bushwhacked.

           

            “I wonder what Heath was doing up there?” Nick pondered out loud as he took the cloth his mother handed him and gave her a fresh one that had been doused in the warm water. 

 

            “Tryin’…tryin’ to find…to find out…what he wants me to…to do.”

 

            The family looked down at Heath.  His couldn’t seem to open his eyes more than halfway, but appeared to be oriented as to where he was and who was with him.

 

            Jarrod laid a hand on Heath’s right shoulder.  “Trying to find out what who wants you to do, Heath?”

 

            It took a moment, but Heath was finally able to focus on Jarrod.  He ran his tongue over his dry lips, and then said, “My father.  Tryin’…tryin’ to find out if he wants me to…to talk to Garrett Reece or…or not. Tryin’…tryin’ to find out what…what he wants me to do.”

 

            Victoria exchanged glances with Jarrod and Nick.  Once again, she found herself hating the decision they’d made when Matt Bentell had first arrived.  Why oh why hadn’t she been able to understand how Heath felt?  Why had she insisted Heath work with the man, and why had she gone against Heath’s wishes and allowed Bentell to stay?

 

            Nick decided now was a good time to change the subject.  He bent over his mother’s shoulder, so he was in Heath’s line of vision. “Heath, did you see who shot you?”

           

            “No…no.  Didn’t see…didn’t see anyone.”  The blond man’s eyes drifted back to his oldest brother.  “Jarrod?”

 

            “Yes?”

 

            “You…you told me once that Father…that Father always had an…had an answer for you when…when you needed it the most.”

 

            Jarrod smiled softly while giving Heath’s uninjured shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Yes, Heath, he did.”

 

            “Well today, I needed…needed an answer pretty bad, I reckon, but…but Father didn’t…he didn’t have one for me.  It’s the first time…first time I’ve ever asked him for…for help, but he didn’t…he didn’t give me any.”

 

            “Heath--” Nick began, though he had no idea what was he going to say to his brother.  All he knew was that he couldn’t stand to hear the hurt in Heath’s voice, as though he’d been let down by the last person he had left to turn to. 

 

            Heath lost the battle to stay conscious then.  As his eyes slid shut, Jarrod heard Audra leading Doctor Merar up the stairs.  He was glad the man had arrived when he did, because right at the moment Jarrod, like Victoria and Nick, didn’t have any answers for Heath, either.

 

              ___________________________________

 

 

 

            Two hours after Doctor Merar’s arrival, the man was making his leave.  Nick rose to meet him as he came down the stairs with Victoria at his side. She had remained in Heath’s room to assist the doctor in the role of nurse, as women on ranches and farms were often pressed to do.

 

            “Well?” Nick questioned, as Audra and Jarrod followed Nick to the foyer from the parlor.  Nick had washed up while the doctor was with Heath, and had put on a clean shirt.

 

            “Neither bullet was in him. The bullet to his shoulder passed clear through, and the one aimed at his head grazed him and left a deep gash, but Heath can thank his lucky stars that the fella aiming that rifle was a poor shot.”

 

            “Thank God,” Nick muttered.

 

            “Yes, Nick, thank God,” Howard Merar agreed. “Heath had lost a lot of blood by the time you got him here.  I’m not sure he would have been strong enough to withstand surgery.”

 

            “So he’ll make a complete recovery?” Jarrod asked.

 

            “Given time, rest, and plenty of Silas’s good cooking, he should.” The doctor turned to Victoria. “The laudanum I gave Heath should allow him to get some sleep, and should help relieve the pain.  Because of the head injury, I’d like all of you to take turns waking him once per hour throughout the night.  If he remains oriented as to who he is, where he’s at, and what day it is, then when morning comes you can allow him as much uninterrupted sleep as he wants.  If he has any periods of confusion at all tonight, or any change in personality, or you’re not able to wake him, then send someone for me.”

 

            “We’ll do that,” Victoria assured.         

“I’ll want you to check those wounds in the morning as well, Victoria.  It’s important that we watch for signs of infection.  Also, he needs to drink a lot of water, and I want him to eat something, even if he says he’s not hungry.”

 

            “I’ll see to all of that.”     

 

            “I want him to keep that left arm in the sling for now.  We’ll keep it immobilized for the next few days, and then see how the shoulder is recovering.  When I’m satisfied with its progress, I’ll have Heath forego the sling in favor of some exercises that will help him regain strength in the shoulder and arm muscles.

 

            “Also, Nick or Jarrod should help him take a walk up and down the hall.  This should be done three times a day in order to lower the chance of him contracting pneumonia.”

 

            “All right.”

 

            “If he complains of pain come morning, or has trouble returning to sleep after he’s eaten some breakfast, then give him another spoonful of laudanum.  I’ll be by after lunch to check on him.”

 

            “Don’t wait until after lunch,” Victoria said.  “Be here at noon and eat with us.”

 

            “Provided I’m not needed elsewhere, I’ll do that,” Howard promised. “Thank you.”

 

            “No, Howard,” Jarrod said, “thank you.  We appreciate all you did for Heath.”

           

            “Let’s put it this way, Jarrod, it was half my doing, and half Heath’s.”

 

            “Heath’s?” Nick questioned.

 

            “Ounce for ounce, Heath is tougher than any man I’ve run across.  The blood loss he suffered would have killed a good number of men, but Heath weathered it.  That’s one stubborn cowboy you’ve got for a brother, Nick.”

 

            “Don’t I know it.  Sometimes too stubborn for his own good.”

 

            “Well, this time his stubbornness kept him alive, so we won’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

 

            Jarrod saw the doctor to the door.  After the man had left, Victoria asked her sons, “Was Frank here?”

 

            Frank Larken was Stockton’s sheriff, and like Howard Merar, a long time friend of the Barkley family.

 

            “He was here while you were upstairs with Heath,” Nick said.  “We told him what little we know. He left to ride up to Father’s gravesite and have a look around.  Now that Howard’s done with Heath and we know he’s gonna be all right, Jarrod and I’ll take a ride up there, too.”

 

            “But it’ll be dark soon.”

 

            “We’ll take lanterns,” Nick said, as he and Jarrod picked up their hats and gun belts from the table in the foyer.

 

            “What about dinner?”

 

            “Have Silas keep something warm for us.  We should be back in a couple of hours.”

 

            Victoria didn’t like the thought Jarrod and Nick returning to the area where Heath had been shot just a few hours earlier, but she understood their desire to explore their father’s gravesite, and the woods beyond, for themselves.

 

            “Frank is going to come by tomorrow afternoon and talk to Heath if he’s up to it,” Jarrod said.

 

            Victoria nodded as she walked her sons to the door.  She had assumed the sheriff would want to speak with Heath as soon as possible.  “Be careful,” Victoria said, as Jarrod and Nick headed outside.

 

            “We will be,” Jarrod assured, while Nick gave his mother a wave of his hand.

 

            When Victoria shut the door and turned around, Audra offered a smile. “They’ll be all right, Mother.  Jarrod and Nick can take care of themselves.”

 

            “Yes, dear, they can,” Victoria agreed.  “But as we saw proven with Heath today, if someone is hiding in the woods with a rifle, there’s little a man can do to protect himself if that person is intent on causing him harm.”

 

            Audra knew her mother was correct, but rather than confirm that, she said, “Mother, why don’t you get something to eat, and then rest for a while.  I’ll sit with Heath until the boys come back and have had a chance to eat, then one of them can take over for me.”

 

            Victoria smiled. “Thank you, sweetheart.  I appreciate that.  Your father would be so proud of how you’ve handled yourself today.”

 

            Audra smiled in return at the compliment.  “I know this will sound foolish, but when I was putting the bandages on Heath, I wished Father was there to help me.”

 

            Audra had no idea what her mother meant when Victoria turned away from her while murmuring, “You aren’t the only member of this family who needed help from your Father today.”

 

            Victoria headed for the kitchen, where she informed Silas that Jarrod and Nick would eat supper upon returning from their search for the man who had shot their brother.

 

 

 

            Chapter 16

 

           

            Garrett Reece exited his bedroom on Saturday morning and walked into the sitting room of his hotel suite. While he waited for Chris to dress before they went downstairs to breakfast, he sat at the suite’s desk and took a piece of parchment paper from the drawer.  Before he had a chance to begin a letter to President Grant regarding his progress, or lack thereof, someone knocked on the door.

 

            Garrett lit his pipe as he rose to answer the knock. He knew who was waiting in the hallway.  A twelve-year-old boy by the name of Douglas Erickson brought the paper up to Garrett each morning.  Along with Douglas’s mother, the Stockton House employed the boy to clean rooms and run errands for the guests.  

 

            Garrett opened the door and looked down into the smiling face of the young man with the shaggy blond hair.  “Good morning, Douglas.”

 

            “Good morning, Mr. Attorney General.  I have your paper for you, sir.”

 

            Garrett smiled while paying the boy for the newspaper, and added a quarter as a tip.  Garrett had told the boy many times that calling him Mr. Reece would be sufficient, but Douglas seemed to enjoy the sound of “Mr. Attorney General,” and wasn’t inclined to abandon its use.

 

            I suppose it gives him something to brag about on the schoolyard.

 

            Garrett took his paper to the round table that resided in the middle of the room.  He pulled out one of the four chairs surrounding it, sat down, moved an ashtray from the center of the table to his right elbow, and spread the paper on the oak surface.  He only half paid attention to Douglas, who bustled around the room emptying ashtrays and picking up the previous day’s newspaper and other discarded trash.  Garrett knew that during the week, the boy worked until he had to leave for school, and then would return to the Stockton House for a few more hours after school.  On Saturdays, Douglas’s routine was similar.  The hours between his morning and evening obligations to the Stockton House were filled with running errands for anyone in town who might hire him.  Douglas had told Garrett his father was deceased, and that it was up to him and his mother to support their family that included three children younger than the twelve-year-old, and the boy’s maternal grandmother. Which was one reason Garrett and Chris found reasons to have Douglas run errands for them, and one reason why they were generous with their tips for the boy and his mother.

 

            Chris came out of his bedroom as Garrett was just beginning to read the newspaper’s front page. The major patted Douglas on the back as he passed him. “Hello there, Douglas.”

 

            The boy looked up from his work long enough to smile at Chris. “Hi, Major.”

 

            Garrett sat up straighter in his chair and spoke with urgency. “Chris, come here.”  The attorney general laid his pipe in the ashtray and fumbled for the list of Carterson survivors that he had folded in his shirt pocket.  “You’ve got to read this.”

 

            “Read what?”

 

            Garrett held up the front page of the Stockton Gazette.  “This.”

 

            Chris eased himself into the chair next to Garrett’s while silently reading the bold headline across the top of the paper.

 

            Heath Barkley Bushwhacked!

 

            Chris read the remainder of the article out loud.

 

“Heath Barkley was shot yesterday afternoon by an unknown assailant while visiting his father’s grave.  Barkley suffered a bullet wound to the left shoulder, and one to the left side of the head, but is expected to make a full recovery.  Sheriff Larken conducted a search of the area where Heath was found by his sister Audra, but his only discovery was that someone fled the area on horseback after firing two rounds at Mr. Barkley. 

 

“Although facts regarding this case are few, there is speculation that Heath Barkley was shot because he’s one of the Carterson POW’s the Attorney General of the United States is looking for.  Attorney General Reece has been in our fair city for six days now, in search of men who were prisoners of war at Carterson. It seems odd that no one has supplied the attorney general with Heath Barkley’s name, but then, maybe the Barkley money has a way of keeping such things quiet.”

 

When Chris finished and looked at his companion, Garrett was reading over his list. 

 

“There’s no Heath Barkley on this list, but there is a Heath Thomson.  I wonder if there was an error made when my clerks put this together.  If I find out they were incompetent and listed Thomson as Barkley’s last name by mistake, then I swear I’ll--”

 

Garrett caught movement from the corner of his eye.  Douglas was hurrying toward the door, which wasn’t like the boy.  He always made sure to linger until he’d gotten his tip.

 

“Douglas?”

 

The boy swallowed hard and turned to face the man who had summoned him.

 

“Yes, sir?”

 

“Do you know Heath Barkley?”

 

For a brief moment, Douglas thought of lying and telling the man that he had no idea who Heath Barkley was.  But ever since Mr. Reece had come to town, Miss Hall, the teacher at Stockton’s schoolhouse, had been using this visit as an opportunity to educate her students as to the powerful position the Attorney General of the United States held. Douglas knew that Mr. Reece could have him thrown in jail if he had a mind to, and could even take him all the way back to Washington D.C. and put him on trial.  Though the boy wasn’t sure how severe the penalty was for fibbing to the attorney general, he also wasn’t about to find out.

 

“I…I…yes, sir. I reckon I know Heath, sir.  He’s…he’s a nice man.  He…he gives me errands to run for him when he’s in town, and then pays me right handsomely for doin’ them.”

 

“He does sound like a nice man,” Garrett agreed.  “Is he any relation to the lawyer here in town?  Jarrod Barkley?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“I see,” Garrett said, having assumed the two men were related in some way.  “How so?”

 

“Pardon me?”

 

“How are they related?  Are they cousins, or is Heath a nephew of Mr. Barkley’s?”

 

“They’re brothers.”

 

Garrett cocked an eyebrow. “Brothers?”

 

“Yes, sir.  Well, half brothers is what they really are, though Nick - another one of Heath’s brothers - he’ll beat up any man who says so. I saw him do it once in the Cattlemen’s Saloon.”

 

“I see.  So, did Heath Barkley used to go by the name Heath Thomson?”

 

The boy’s eyes slid toward the door.  He wished his mother would enter and relieve him from this line of questioning.  Not that she wouldn’t tell the attorney general the truth, because she would, but she wasn’t a friend of Heath’s like Douglas was, so it wouldn’t be as though she was being disloyal to the man.

 

Garrett pulled five dollars out of his vest pocket and laid the coins on the table.  He felt guilty for buying information from a twelve-year-old who obviously didn’t want to gossip about his friend, but then Garrett thought of Avery, and knew the end justified the means.

 

“Douglas, this five dollars is yours if you’ll finish answering my questions, son.”

 

Douglas’s eyes lit up at the money.  Five dollars would help his family get through the next two weeks in more ways than he could think of.  Nonetheless, Douglas still had reservations.

 

“Heath…Heath’s my friend.”

 

“I understand that, and I commend you for your loyalty to him.  He’s not in trouble, Douglas.”

 

“You’re not gonna put him in jail?”

 

Garrett laughed, then said,  “No. Not unless you think I have a reason to.”

 

“Oh, no, sir. Heath is a real upstandin’ man.  He don’t cause no trouble. Not a lick of it.”

 

“Well, then. See?  I have no call to arrest him, do I?”

 

“No, sir.”

 

“Now can you tell me if Heath used to go by the name of Heath Thomson?”

 

Douglas eyed the money on the table again, and then nodded. “Yes, sir.  When he first came here he did.”

 

“But now he uses Barkley as his last name?”

 

“Yes, sir. On account of the Barkley family adopting him.”

 

“Adopting him?”

 

“Well, not adopting, I don’t guess.  But Mr. Barkley...Jarrod…he had Heath’s name changed all legal like.  My ma told me. She heard about it from a friend of hers who cooks and cleans for Mrs. Manners.”

 

“Would that be Opal Manners, of the Manners Ranch?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“I heard that Mr. and Mrs. Manners are good friends of the Barkleys,” Garrett said.  If he got confirmation of this information he’d uncovered on Monday, then it would validate his assumption that the maid employed by Opal Manners had overheard conversations between her employer and members of the Barkley family, as opposed to telling tales that might not be true.  “Is that the case?”

 

“Yeah. I reckon just about everyone knows  Mrs. Manners and Mrs. Barkley are best friends.”

 

“I see.  You said Heath is a half brother to Jarrod Barkley.  Does that have something to do with name change?”

 

“Yes, sir. Heath was Mr. Barkley’s…Mr. Tom Barkley’s…bastard.”

 

“Oh,” Garrett nodded, beginning to understand more clearly now. “I see.”

 

“But don’t tell Heath I said that, please.  My ma says it’s an ugly word, and Nick will beat me up if he ever hears me say that about Heath.”

 

“Don’t worry.  I won’t tell Heath or Nick anything you’ve said.”

 

Douglas breathed a sigh of relief.  “Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome.  Now, do you remember when Heath came to live with the Barkley family?”

 

Douglas screwed his face in thought.  “I guess a little over a year ago.  Maybe last January or February.  I know he was livin’ here by March, ‘cause Ellen - my sister - she was real sick for the whole month of March, and Heath loaned me some money so I could buy her a present.”

 

“That was very kind of him.”

 

“Yeah, it was, but like I said, he does a lot of nice stuff for me. Ma says it’s because Heath knew hard times when he was growin’ up, same as me - on account of him not livin’ with his pa.  He grew up over in Strawberry.  It was just Heath and his ma all those years.”

 

“Strawberry?”

 

“A ghost town south of here.  Or pretty much of one anyway.  ‘For I was born it used to be a big mining town.”

 

Garrett tapped the newspaper that Chris had put back down on the table. “Do you know if this article is correct when the writer states that Heath is a survivor of Carterson Prison?”

 

Douglas shrugged. “I don’t know for sure. Heath’s never talked to me about bein’ in the war, or bein’ at Carterson, but my ma’s friend – the one who works for Mrs. Manners - told Ma that there sure was a big row at the Barkleys’ when Matt Bentell showed up.  Heath punched old Bentell in the jaw, and woulda’ killed him if Jarrod and Nick hadn’t stopped him.  Lots of folks ‘round here think Heath shoulda’ killed Bentell.”

 

“I imagine they do.  I don’t suppose the decision the Barkley family made to employee Mr. Bentell has been a popular one.”

 

“No, sir, it hasn’t been.  But no one has the guts to say that to Nick.”

 

Garrett winked at the boy.  “From the sounds of Nick’s temperament, I can understand why.” 

 

“Don’t get me wrong. Nick’s a good guy, too.  I like him a lot.  I used to afraid of him, until Heath told me Nick’s bark is worse ‘an his bite.”

 

“That’s good to know,” Garrett said.

 

            “Sir?”

 

            “I have a feeling Major Fletcher and I will be meeting Nick Barkley later today.”  Garrett stood and picked up the coins. “Here you go, Douglas.  You take these and be on your way.”

 

            The boy took the money Garrett handed him.  “You won’t tell--”

 

            “Son, everything you’ve just shared with me will be kept in the strictest of confidence. Neither Major Fletcher nor I will tell anyone where we came by our information.”

 

            Douglas smiled.  “Thank you, sir.”

 

            “You run along now.”

 

            “Yes, sir.”

 

            Douglas put the money in his pocket and ran from the room.  He wasn’t even going to tell his mother how he came by this sudden wealth when he turned the five dollars over to her that evening.  He knew it wouldn’t be difficult to convince her that the attorney general and Major Fletcher had sent him on numerous errands, and had paid him well for his time.

 

            After the boy had left, Chris asked, “Was that the right thing to do?”

 

            “What? Glean information from a twelve-year-old?”

 

            “Yes.”

 

            “I don’t see why not,” Garrett said as he shrugged into his suit coat and picked up the newspaper.  “If Douglas hadn’t told us, someone else would have.  And if nothing else, Douglas and his family can use the money.”

 

            Chris reluctantly conceded that Garrett had a point. He followed the man out of their suite and down to the dining room.  Without having to ask, Chris knew their first order of business was breakfast, followed by their second order of business – a ride out to the Barkley ranch.

 

 

              ___________________________________

 

 

Heath was sleeping when the Barkleys gathered for a late breakfast at nine o’clock on Saturday morning.  They had taken turns sitting with him throughout the night, and waking him up each hour as Doctor Merar had instructed.  Heath been withdrawn and reserved, as though his mind was far removed from the ranch and his family, but he was able to answer the questions asked of him.  Victoria had seen to it that Heath had eaten some scrambled eggs and toast at seven, then had given him a dose of laudanum so he could sleep until Howard arrived to check on him.

 

While Victoria had tended to Heath, and Audra had helped Silas get breakfast together for the rest of the family, Nick had been outside working.  Jarrod had briefly joined Nick in order to dispatch one of the hired hands to Stockton. Given Heath’s physical condition and the help he would need to walk down the hall or make a trip to the bathroom, Jarrod assumed neither he nor Nick would get into town this weekend.   Therefore, he asked the hired man to bring back the mail, along with that morning’s issues of the Stockton Gazette and the San Francisco Daily Journal.

 

The lawyer had then gone to the study.  He had plenty of paperwork to keep him busy, which would allow him to be in the house should his mother or Audra need him to assist with Heath’s care. Jarrod remained in the study until Audra told him breakfast was on the table.

 

As Jarrod took his seat at the table, Nick reached for a piece of toast and slathered it with butter. 

 

“Jarrod, after lunch we oughta go back out to Father’s grave and have another look around.”

 

“What good will that do?” Audra asked. “You didn’t find anything when you were out there last night, and neither did Sheriff Larken.”

 

“I know.  But I’d just like to have another look.”

 

Victoria’s eyes met Jarrod’s.  “Do you think this could be related to the attorney general’s reason for being in Stockton?”

 

“I believe it’s a possibility.”

 

“You mean as in someone shot Heath to keep him from talking?” Nick asked.

 

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

 

“To keep him from talking?”  Audra looked from one family member to the next.  “What do you mean, Jarrod?  Is Heath in some kind of trouble?  What’s going on?  Why is the attorney general here?”

 

Victoria reached over and patted her daughter’s arm. “No, Audra, Heath isn’t in trouble. As for your other questions, the attorney general is here looking for survivors of Carterson Prison.”

 

“Whatever for?”

 

“Mr. Reece wants to bring Matt Bentell to trial again. He wants any Carterson survivors he locates to testify against Matt.”

 

“Does Heath know?”

 

Victoria nodded. “Yes, sweetheart, Heath knows.”’

 

“Has he talked to the attorney general?”

 

“Not yet.  Or, at least, not that we’re aware of.”

 

“Will he?”  Audra looked at Jarrod. “What I mean is, does he have to?  Can the attorney general put Heath in jail if he won’t talk to him?”

 

“There’s an off chance that he could jail Heath under charges of obstruction of justice, but at this point, honey, we don’t need to worry about that.  To the best of our knowledge, the attorney general doesn’t realize Heath Barkley exists.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“Attorney General Reece visited me on Monday because he was aware we employ Matt.  He asked me to look over a list he had that contained the names of the surviving Carterson men.  Heath Barkley wasn’t on it, although Heath Thomson was.”

 

“So that’s good, right?  Then he’ll never know Heath is one of the men on his list.”

 

“He’s been showing the list to our neighbors,” Jarrod said, “so it’s possible that he will find out that Heath Barkley and Heath Thomson are the same man, but we’re holding out hope that doesn’t happen before Reece moves on.”

 

“And speaking of moving on,” Nick said in-between bites of his eggs, “wouldn’t you think Reece would be about ready to do that?”

 

“I would think so,” Jarrod agreed.  “He’s been in Stockton six days now, and as far as we know, his search has produced no results. Our best chance of Heath escaping his notice is if Reece leaves and continues his search elsewhere.”

 

A knock at the door caused Silas to hurry through the dining area.  The cowboy that Jarrod had sent to Stockton handed Silas a stack of mail, as well as the newspapers.

 

“This stuff is for Mr. Barkley, Silas.”  

 

Silas didn’t have to question which Mr. Barkley the cowboy was talking about.  The ranch hands always called Nick and Heath by their first names, but many of them, especially the younger ones, referred to Jarrod as Mr. Barkley.  Whether that was because he was a lawyer, or whether it was because they rarely worked with him and therefore didn’t know him well, Silas had yet to figure out.

 

“Thank you,” Silas replied before closing the door.  He walked to the dining room and handed Jarrod the bundle of mail and the folded newspapers.  “Here you are, Mr. Jarrod. Dave brought these things from town for you.”

 

“Thank you, Silas,” Jarrod said, as the black man turned for the kitchen.  The lawyer set the mail and the newspaper from San Francisco at his right elbow.  He unfolded the Stockton Gazette.  The first thing that caught his eye was the headline. 

 

            Heath Barkley Bushwhacked!

 

Jarrod shook his head.  “Looks like Travers is at it again.”

 

“At what again?” Nick asked.

 

Jarrod turned the paper around so his family could see the headline.  “Sensationalism in the name of ‘informative news reporting.’ ”

 

“Informative reporting my eye.  Travers doesn’t care how he accomplishes it, he just wants to sell papers.”

 

“That he does, Nicholas,” Jarrod agreed.

 

“What’s the article say, Jarrod?” Audra asked. “Read it to us, please.”

 

“Yes, Jarrod,” Victoria requested, “please read it.”

 

“I hope you ladies are ready to have trouble digesting your food,” Nick warned in regards to the newspaperman who had long been a thorn in the Barkleys’ sides.

 

“Sooner or later we’ll find out what it says,” Victoria stated. “We might as well get it over with now.”

 

“I couldn’t agree more, Mother,” Jarrod said, right before he began to read out loud the newspaper’s account of Heath’s ambush.

 

“Heath Barkley was shot yesterday afternoon by an unknown assailant while visiting his father’s grave.  Barkley suffered a bullet wound to the left shoulder, and one to the left side of the head, but is expected to make a full recovery.  Sheriff Larken conducted a search of the area where Heath was found by his sister Audra, but his only discovery was that someone fled the area on horseback after firing two rounds at Mr. Barkley. 

 

“Although facts regarding this case are few, there is speculation that Heath Barkley was shot because he’s one of the Carterson POW’s the Attorney General of the United States is looking for.” 

 

“What?” Nick cried. “What the hell did he put that in the paper for?  He doesn’t know for certain why Heath was shot, anymore than we do.”

 

Jarrod held up his hand, indicating he wanted Nick to be quiet.

 

“Attorney General Reece has been in our fair city for six days now, in search of men who were prisoners of war at Carterson. It seems odd that no one has supplied the attorney general with Heath Barkley’s name, but then, maybe the Barkley money has a way of keeping such things quiet.”

 

The lawyer let out a heavy sigh when he finished reading. He looked at the faces of his family and saw the same anger, outrage, upset, and worry that he knew was on his own face.

 

Nick was the first one to break the heavy silence engulfing the room. “Jarrod, you know when you said that to the best of our knowledge the attorney general doesn’t realize Heath Barkley exists?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I’ve got a bad feeling in my gut that he knows now.”

 

“I’ve got that same bad feeling, ” Jarrod said, as he threw the paper on the table in disgust. “Believe me, brother Nick, I’ve got that same bad feeling.”

 

 

            Chapter 17

 

 

The dose of laudanum Victoria had given Heath after he’d eaten breakfast had allowed him to get three hours of sleep before his throbbing head, and the pain from his shoulder wound, woke him up.  The man didn’t summon any of his family members, simply because he had no desire to be fussed over.  He’d closed his eyes when he heard the door open.  By the smell of the aftershave his visitor wore, Heath knew it was Jarrod who had been sent to check on him. His brother’s hand came to rest lightly on his forehead, and then Heath heard Audra’s voice from the doorway.  She spoke just above a whisper.

 

“Does he have a fever?”

 

“No, he doesn’t seem to,” Jarrod answered, keeping his voice quiet as well.

 

“That’s a good sign then.”

 

“Yes, it is,” Jarrod agreed, while turning away from the bed.

 

“Jarrod, do you really think someone shot Heath because he’s a Carterson Prison survivor, like Mr. Travers said in his article?  Do you think this happened because the attorney general is here looking for men who were in that awful place?”

 

“Honey, I don’t know for certain why this happened, and until Heath is strong enough to give Sheriff Larken a statement, it’s foolish for us to speculate.  As far as Orin Travers goes, he tends to report what he considers to be ‘news’ before he’s gathered the facts. That’s why there’s no need to mention that article to Heath.”

 

“But won’t you have to tell him about it eventually? He’s bound to read it for himself, or someone’s bound to say something to him.”

 

“Yes, I’m sure I’ll have to talk to him about it.” Jarrod put an arm around his sister and led her into the hallway. “But…”

 

Anything else Jarrod said was cut-off from Heath’s hearing range because the lawyer had shut the door. That didn’t matter. Heath could easily finish the sentence.

 

But...I want to wait until he’s stronger.

 

Or:

 

But...there’s no point in bringing it up for a few days yet.  Let’s give Heath the chance to get the rest he needs.

&nbs