Chapter 21

 

 

            The bloody hand reached upward, trying to make contact with Heath.  Heath squeezed his eyes shut against the gore and grasped the hand.  The blood made the hold Heath had on Avery wet and slick.  He opened his eyes when the young man whimpered in pain and whispered, “Heath…Heath.  Please…Heath…please…please make it stop…make the pain…make it stop, Heath.”

 

            Heath opened his mouth, but no words came out.  He wanted to take Avery’s pain away worse than he’d ever wanted to do anything, but he didn’t have the ability to.  Heath tried to speak, but he couldn’t make false promises to his friend, and Avery seemed to sense that.

 

            “Please…Heath…please,” Avery squeezed his hand.  “Please…end it.  End it.  I can’t stand it.  Please…please kill me, Heath.  Kill me.”

 

            “No,” Heath murmured, looking down into the chalk white face of his friend. “No, Avery.  I…I can’t.”

 

            “It will…it will be more merciful than…than what I’m going through--” Avery arched his back and screamed before he was able to finish his sentence.  He squeezed Heath’s right hand again, while trying to grasp Heath’s left hand and yank it from his abdomen.  “Let…let go.  Let me…let me die.  Let me...kill me, Heath.  Find something…a rock…a club…anything.  Kill me, Heath.  I beg of you…kill me.”

 

            Avery arched against the agony and screamed a long, torture filled cry that sounded like it was coming from a mutilated animal.  Heath watched the blood flow through his left hand.  After what had been done to Avery, he would surely die. Even if Bentell sent the camp doctor into their cell, Heath knew Avery would die.  No one could be hurt like this and live through it. Blood pooled beneath Avery’s body, and began to run across the dirt floor in crooked rivers. 

 

Red foam bubbled at the corners of Avery’s mouth.      “Heath…please.  Kill me.”

           

            “No.  I can’t.”

 

            “Heath…please.”

 

            “No.”

 

            “Heath.”

 

            “No.”

 

            “Heath!”

 

            “No!”

 

            “Please !”

 

            “I can’t!”

 

            “Please kill me!”

 

            “I can’t!  I can’t!”

 

            “Heath, please!”

 

            “No!” Heath screamed at the boy in his dreams.  “No!  I can’t. I can’t!  Anything but that.  I can’t, Avery. I can’t!”

 

            “Heath!”

 

            “No!”

 

            “Heath!”

 

            “No!  No!”

 

            “Heath!  Heath!” Nick shouted as he shook his brother right shoulder.  “Heath!”

           

            Heath shot from his bed, his eyes wide and his breaths coming in harsh, raspy pants.  His momentum would have catapulted him off the bed had Nick not been holding onto him.

 

            “Heath,” Nick said, as he reached over and lit the bedside lamp. “Heath, are you all right now?”

 

            Heath squinted as the light assaulted his eyes.  When he’d adjusted to the sudden brightness, he looked around the room.  It took him a few moments to remember that he and Nick were in the house alone.  Victoria and Audra had been invited to dinner at the Manners ranch, and Jarrod hadn’t arrived home yet from his Stockton office when Nick and Heath had gone to bed at nine-thirty.  The two men had worked outside since dawn that Monday, and by the time they’d come in and finished eating supper, neither of them had any desire to wait up for their family members.

 

            Heath no longer had to wear his sling.  He looked down to see his left hand encased in Nick’s, just like it had been encased in Avery’s so many years ago now.  Only this time, the slick feeling came from perspiration, and not from blood.

 

            “What timez it?” Heath mumbled as he wriggled his hand from Nick’s grasp.

 

            “Goin’ on eleven.”

 

            Heath didn’t have to ask if the women or Jarrod had arrived home.  He knew his nightmare would have brought them into his room with Nick if they were present.

 

            When Heath didn’t say anything else, Nick offered, “Bad dream, huh?”

 

            For the first time Heath looked up into his brother’s face.  He hesitated a moment, as if even this much of a confession to Nick was difficult.  Finally, he gave a succinct nod.

 

            The mattress dipped as Nick sat down on the edge of the bed.  “Wanna talk about it?”

 

            “No.”

 

            “It probably doesn’t seem like it, but I can be a pretty good listener when need be.”

 

            “That’s nice to know, but it’s late and I don’t feel like talkin.’”

 

            “Heath--”

 

            Heath whipped the covers back and stood.  “I already told you I don’t wanna talk about it.”

 

            “Look, how can I help you if you won’t let me?”

 

Heath grabbed his pants off the end of the bed and slipped them on.  “I didn’t ask for your help.”

 

As the blond stomped out, Nick remained seated on the bed.  He shook his head and muttered, “Fletcher thinks this is all a matter of trust.  Well, he’s full of poppycock.  It’s about a helluva lot more than that, and I’m beginning to wonder if we’ll ever know what really happened in that prison camp.”

 

Nick stood and headed for his room.  He had no idea where Heath went, but since his brother had made it clear that he didn’t want Nick’s help, the dark haired cowboy decided he might as well go back to bed.

 

              ___________________________________

 

 

Heath sat out on the front veranda until he heard the buggy pull up to the barn.  Rather than help Victoria and Audra unhitch the horse, as he normally would have, Heath reentered the house and returned to his room.  He didn’t want to answer their questions as to why he was awake at this late hour, anymore than he’d wanted to answer Nick’s questions about his nightmare.  And it wasn’t as though the women wouldn’t have help with the horse and buggy.  Ever since Heath had agreed to testify against Bentell, Nick didn’t allow his mother or Audra to leave the ranch unaccompanied.  Ned Henry, one of the Barkley hands, had a brother working for Garland Manners.  Ned had volunteered to take the women.  He told Nick he could go to the bunkhouse and play cards with his brother and the other hired men until Victoria and Audra were ready to return home.

 

Heath shut his bedroom door, blew out the lamp, and lay down on top of the rumpled covers.  Ten minutes later, he heard the two women pass by his room.  When he didn’t hear Nick’s door open, or the murmur of voices, he knew his brother had fallen back to sleep and hadn’t heard the women come home.

 

Heath waited another twenty minutes, then got out of bed.  He didn’t light the lamp, but by feel alone found the shirt he knew was somewhere at the end of the bed. He slipped it on, buttoned the bottom three buttons, and crossed to his dresser. He opened the top drawer and put on a pair of clean socks.  He didn’t bother putting on his boots as he quietly exited his room and closed the door behind him.  It was after midnight now, and since Jarrod had yet to arrive home, Heath assumed the lawyer had spent the night at the Cattleman’s Hotel.  If Jarrod worked late at his office and was too tired to make the trip out to the ranch, then he took a room at the Cattleman’s. 

 

The blond man entered the study and silently closed the door.  He crossed to the desk and lit the lamp.  He turned up the wick until there was sufficient light. Heath walked over the bookcase, and began scanning the leather bound law texts.  He wasn’t sure if Jarrod would have a book with the information he was looking for, but since he couldn’t sleep, he figured he might as well satisfy his curiosity.

 

Heath pulled eight books from the shelf at random and returned to the desk.  He sat down behind it and piled the books to his right.  He pulled the first book off the pile, opened it to the back, pulled the lamp closer, and scanned the index pages.  When he didn’t see what he was searching for, he pulled the second book from the pile and repeated the process.  He did this again and again, until he’d reached the sixth book and finally found what he was seeking.

 

Heath turned to the pages indicated, leaned over the book, and started reading.

 

              ___________________________________

 

 

Unbeknownst to his family, Jarrod hadn’t spent the day at his Stockton office, but instead, had caught the early train to San Francisco.  Despite his loyalty to Heath, Jarrod was determined to keep the promise he’d made to Matt Bentell in regards to finding a lawyer for him.  Jarrod had been wrong, however, when he’d told Matt that his friend well versed in criminal law would be eager to take on Bentell’s case.  Actually, it was quite the contrary.  Jarrod’s old law school friend, Harris Michaels, had no desire to get involved with Matt Bentell.

 

“That would be career suicide, Jarrod,” Harris had said as the two men dined together at noon.   “You won’t find a lawyer in this entire country who will want to represent Bentell at his trial.”

 

Jarrod had smiled and tried to convince his friend otherwise.  “Harris, I’m surprised at you.”

 

“How so?”

 

“Here you are one of the leading criminal attorneys in the state, and you’re turning down the chance to defend Matt Bentell?”

 

“Defend him?  Do you know what he did at Carterson?”

 

“Yes,” Jarrod nodded.  “I know what he did.  Or at least some of it.”

 

“Well, then, you’ll understand when I say that rather than defend Matt Bentell, I’d like to hang him myself.”  Harris shook his head as he took a sip of brandy. “Take my advice, Jarrod, and quit looking for a friend of yours to defend Bentell, or you won’t have any friends left.  Let the government provide a lawyer for him.”

 

“Harris, you know what that means. Because of the circumstances surrounding this case, Bentell doesn’t have a chance of getting a fair trial with a government appointed attorney.”

 

“Seems to me he wasn’t very fair to the men who were prisoners of war at Carterson, so perhaps Bentell will now get his just dues.”

 

Jarrod had been surprised by his friend’s attitude.  Usually Harris was a fair man who wanted the law to work for people in the best way possible.   But emotions regarding Bentell had run high ten years ago when the man had first been brought to trial, so it wasn’t inconceivable to Jarrod that emotions would run high again.

 

Jarrod changed the subject then, so he and Harris could end their meal with their friendship still intact. After they parted ways outside the restaurant, Jarrod visited two more San Francisco attorneys that he knew well and thought highly of, only to discover that, like Harris, neither of those men was interested in having their names associated with Mathew Bentell.

 

Jarrod returned to Stockton on the last train out of San Francisco that carried more cargo and mail than it did passengers.  That was all right with the attorney.  He didn’t mind the solitude as he stared out the window and into the darkness.  When he’d arrived in Stockton, Jarrod stopped by his office and looked through the mail Karen had left on his desk before going to the stable and getting Jingo.  He’d thought of spending the remainder of the night at the Cattleman’s Hotel, but since he wasn’t sure he’d sleep well given all that was on his mind, decided he’d might as well head for the comforts home provided. 

 

It was one-thirty in the morning when Jarrod approached the front gates leading into the ranch yard. He reined Jingo to a halt, knowing he’d better call out first.  He had no idea who was posted at the gate – a ranch hand Nick had assigned to guard duty, or a U.S. marshal, but since Jarrod didn’t want to his head blown off, he made his presence known.

 

“Hello there! It’s Jarrod Barkley!”

 

Jarrod recognized the voice that called back in return as being that of one of their hired men.

 

“Come on through, Mr. Barkley!  Everything’s fine!”

 

“Thanks, Clem,” Jarrod said to the man as he passed by on Jingo.

 

  The house was dark save for the dim light coming from the study.   Jarrod’s brow furrowed as the stared at the window while wondering who would be in there at this late hour.  He dismounted his horse, lit a barn lantern, and walked the animal to his stall.  Jingo had already been fed at the stable.  It didn’t take Jarrod long to remove the saddle, saddle blanket, and reins, then give Jingo a quick brushing and fresh water. 

 

Jarrod blew out the lantern as he passed by it and walked to the house.  The light was still on in the study.  Considering it was now going on two a.m., Jarrod wondered if someone had left the lamp on by accident.  He said hello to the marshal who was standing duty at the front door.  He knew the other marshal was one of two places – either getting a few hours of sleep in one of the bunkhouses, or patrolling the area around the mansion. The entire family had learned the habits of the marshals by now, and knew they switched off duty throughout the night so they could each get some rest.  It was at times like this that Jarrod realized Nick was correct.  Two marshals in place to protect Heath fell short of what was needed, especially given the size of the Barkley holdings.  If nothing else, the family felt better about the situation considering the men Nick had keeping watch over various boundaries would make it difficult for someone to sneak onto the property.  However, Jarrod realized those precautions weren’t foolproof.  Their land stretched far and wide.  A person determined to trespass could do so and go undetected if he remained hidden amongst the woods and long pasture grasses.  In addition to that, on a night like this when no moon was visible in the sky, sneaking onto Barkley land would be that much easier.

 

Jarrod entered the house, quietly closing the big oak door.  He took off his suit coat and laid it and his hat on the parlor table.  He loosened his string tie and undid his top collar button as he walked to the study and opened the door.

 

Heath was so engrossed in what he was reading that he didn’t hear his brother enter the room.  It wasn’t until the door clicked as Jarrod closed it, that Heath looked up.

 

“Well, brother Heath, I didn’t know you had an interest in the legal profession,” Jarrod said with a smile. “Are you planning on hanging out a shingle and giving me a run for my money?”

 

Though Jarrod’s words were light and filled with gentle humor, Heath didn’t smile in return.  Jarrod walked to the desk and sat down in the chair across from it.

 

“Heath?” He inquired softly, “are you all right?”

 

“Yeah…yeah, I’m…I’m all right.”

 

“You don’t sound all right.”

 

When Heath refused to acknowledge Jarrod’s words the lawyer spoke again. “Is there something I can help you with, or something I can do for you?”

 

Heath hesitated a moment, then shut the book he’d been reading before Jarrod had the opportunity to see what the page said.  He pushed the books aside and leaned back in the big chair that had once been Tom Barkley’s.

 

“Jarrod, is Henry Wirz really the only man ever executed for war crimes in this country?”

 

Now Jarrod knew what his brother had been reading – the same thing he’d been reading a few days earlier. 

 

“Yes, Heath, so far he is.”

 

Heath stared at some point beyond Jarrod’s left shoulder.  “Your book said forty-nine thousand five hundred Union soldiers were sent to Andersonville between 1864 and ’65.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And then it said thirteen thousand of those men died there during that year.”

 

“Yes, according to the legal records, those numbers are accurate.”

 

“It seems so clear cut – like Wirz deserved to die, until…until--”

 

“Until what?”

 

Heath met his brother’s gaze.  “Until I sit here and read that Wirz testified that he was just doin’ what he’d been ordered to do by his commanding officers, and that when he took charge of the prison he was fighting a losing battle because thirty thousand more men were housed there than the place could hold, and that there wasn’t an adequate supply of food, or a way to get clean water.”

 

“That’s correct,” Jarrod said.  Cautiously, he added, “Similar to some of the situations Matt Bentell was dealing with, too, I’m sure.”

 

When Heath didn’t get angry, or tell Jarrod that things with Bentell were different, Jarrod knew his brother was beginning to realize the issue of Carterson from a legal standpoint was more complicated than first meets the eye.

 

“Still…if Wirz had really cared about those men, don’t you think he could have done something to improve the conditions? Don’t you think he could have gone to his superior officers and demanded more food and clean water?”

 

“I don’t know the answer to that, Heath.  There’s nothing recorded anywhere that claims Wirz did attempt to get help for the Andersonville inmates, and if he didn’t, then yes, he should have.  However, I don’t know what the Confederates could have, or would have done.  They were losing the war by then, and supplies for their own men were woefully inadequate.”

 

“I know,” Heath said, “but if he’d tried, Jarrod…if he’d only tried, then maybe I could forgive him.”

 

Jarrod knew Heath didn’t mean Henry Wirz when he said, “maybe I could forgive him” but rather, he meant Matt Bentell.

 

Again, Jarrod proceeded with caution where this subject was concerned. “Heath, are you having second thoughts?”

 

“Second thoughts about what?”

 

“About talking to Garrett Reece. About giving him your testimony, and then testifying against Bentell at the trial.”

 

“No…I…no.  I have to do this for Avery.”

 

“You don’t have to do this for anyone.”

 

Heath looked away a moment, then brought his eyes back to his brother.  “You don’t want me to, do you? None of you do.”

 

“If by ‘none of you’ you mean your family – Mother, myself, and your other siblings, then you’re wrong.  We told you we want you to do what you feel is right.  We still stand behind that statement, Heath, and we will continue to stand behind it, and stand behind you, until this ends in one fashion or another.”

 

Heath swallowed hard and nodded.  Sometimes his emotions were too close to the surface these days. Hearing Jarrod’s soft words of support reminded Heath that being part of this family was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He didn’t want to disappoint any of them, and he didn’t want to do the wrong thing. Trouble was, he no longer knew what was right and what was wrong, because how did you ever explain to someone what you’d witnessed at the age of fifteen that you still couldn’t make any sense of?

 

Heath thought a moment, then asked, “Jarrod, are…are women ever executed?”

 

“Pardon me?”

 

“How…how many times have we executed a woman in this country?”

 

“I don’t know the answer to that right off the top of my head.  It’s a rare occurrence, in part because women don’t commit crimes at nearly the rate men do.”

 

“But if the circumstances were right…if a woman was found guilty of murder…or murders even, then she might hang.”

 

“Yes, she might…she quite likely would.  Why do you ask?”

 

“Just…just wondering, that’s all.  I read in your law book that Wirz’s neck didn’t break when the trap door on the gallows was opened.”

 

“No, it didn’t.”

 

“He…it took him two minutes to die.  He suffocated while people in the crowd shouted, ‘Wirz, remember Andersonville.’”

 

“That’s correct.”

 

Heath stood and carried the law books back to the case.  Jarrod watched as one by one his brother returned the books to their proper places.  When he was finished, Heath walked over to the window and looked outside.  Jarrod watched the minutes tick off on the mantel clock.  Heath finally turned around and made eye contact with his sibling.

 

“For a long time I thought if death came to Bentell in any way, no matter how unmerciful, that he deserved it.”

 

“And you don’t feel that way any longer?”

 

“I…I don’t know.”

 

“Heath, one thing you have to remember, and I think you realize it even more so now after reading the transcripts of Henry Wirz’s trial, is that there are two sides to every coin. I’m not excusing Wirz’s failures to the prisoners at Andersonville, yet I also believe that other men…men above Wirz in the chain of command, weren’t held accountable for their actions.”

 

“So, in other words you think the government made Wirz a scapegoat?”

 

“In some ways, that’s my perception, yes.  However, it’s not fair of me to pass judgment, because unlike Major Fletcher, I wasn’t incarcerated at Andersonville.  Maybe you should discuss this with him, Heath. Maybe he can answer questions for you I can’t.”

 

“Maybe,” was all Heath would commit to, thereby giving Jarrod the impression his brother had no intention of having this conversation with anyone else.

 

The blond man walked to the door.  He put his hand on the knob, but paused before leaving the room.  “Jarrod, sometimes…sometimes I think that no matter what I do, it won’t be enough because it won’t make things right.”

 

Jarrod stood and turned so he was facing his brother.  “What do you mean?”

 

“Nothing I do now can bring Avery back.  When I…when I had the chance to do something for him, I failed him. I...I didn’t do what he asked me to.”

 

Jarrod couldn’t stand the sorrow he heard in Heath’s voice.  “Heath--”

 

“He’d dead, Jarrod.  Avery’s been dead for a long time now.  I thought giving his father the message I promised to deliver, and being willing to testify against Bentell, would help me sleep at night.  But it doesn’t.  It doesn’t at all.  So far, it’s only made things worse.”

 

The lawyer watched his brother leave the room.  The sympathy he felt for Heath was enormous. For the first time Jarrod found himself wondering what he’d do if he were the Carterson survivor who had the power to allow Matt Bentell to live, or be instrumental in causing his execution.

 

The problem was, Jarrod didn’t have an answer in that regard for either himself, or for Heath. Which, at the moment, made him feel like a failure as a lawyer, and as an older brother.

 

 

Chapter 22

 

The message to flee the logging camp arrived to Matt Bentell early on Monday afternoon.  That didn’t leave the Bentells much time to get ready, but that was all right.  They had packed most of their belongs the day after John Laramie left. It was just a matter of putting some clothes in one trunk, and some dishes in another.  The Barkleys had furnished the cabin, and there was little else in the small home other than a few pictures, that belonged to Matt and Lucinda. 

 

Matt waited until the sun set to load the wagon and hitch up the horses.  The messenger who arrived had told him Nick Barkley had men watching him, so Matt had to do everything under the cover of darkness.  Matt wasn’t sure where they would ultimately settle. That was up to John Laramie, and his father, Robert. A deal had been struck between Bentell and the Laramies.  Matt would never tell anyone that Robert Laramie, the great supporter of the Union Army and Abraham Lincoln, had made a profitable business out of smuggling rifles from the Laramie foundry south of the Mason Dixon line during the war.  In exchange for Matt’s silence on this issue, an issue he had vast knowledge of since he had been Laramie’s contact down South prior to his assignment at Carterson, Robert was going to relocate Matt and Lucinda. John had said his father would provide them with a home, provide them with new names and phony identification papers, and provide Matt with a job.

 

The only trouble Matt ran into came when it was time leave.  He heard one of the loggers shout, “Fire! Fire!” and knew Laramie’s men had followed through on John’s instructions to create a diversion for Matt and Lucinda.  Matt stepped out on the porch and watched as loggers spilled out of the tents with buckets and pickaxes, and ran toward the orange flames that could be seen dancing up a steep slope west of the encampment.  No one seemed to notice that Matt wasn’t with them, and likely wouldn’t notice while the chaos and confusion was at its peak. 

 

Matt ran into the cabin to get Lucinda.  She had been in the kitchen waiting to flee when he gave the word, but now she was nowhere to be seen.

 

“Cinda?  Cinda!”

 

Matt took the stairs two at a time. “Cinda! Cinda, come on!  We have to go now.”

 

The man heard the sobs before he found his wife. 

 

Oh no, not now.  Not now.

 

When Lucinda was under stress the ‘others’ who lived within her seemed to have a stronger hold on her.  It was frightening to watch, but right now Matt didn’t have the time to fret over it.  He found Lucinda curled in a ball and sitting in a corner of their bedroom.

 

“Cinda, come on.”

 

The woman peeked out from the corner she had her face pressed against. “I’m…I’m scared, Papa.”

 

Matt didn’t have time to play Lucinda’s games. He grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her to her feet. “Come on, let’s go!”

 

“But, Papa--”

 

Matt gave the woman a hard shake. “Lucinda, stop it now! We don’t have time for this.”

 

Matt grabbed his wife’s arm and pulled her out of the room and down the stairs.  Lucinda’s eyes hardened as they stepped out of the cabin and ran to the barn.  With her free hand, she felt for the knife and the gun hidden beneath her jacket.  Matt would be sorry for treating her this way.  Before things were over, they’d all be sorry for treating Orlean this way. 

 

Chapter 23

 

Word of the fire at the logging camp hadn’t reached the Barkley ranch yet on Wednesday morning. All the members of the Barkley family had obligations that day that would take them away from the mansion.  Audra was riding Lady to Sarah Danielson’s home after breakfast.  She was spending the day with her friend so they could begin planning Sarah’s wedding along with the young woman’s mother.  Despite Audra’s protests that she didn’t need a babysitter, Nick was sending a hired man to ride along with her.  Once she arrived safely, the man would return to the ranch, and whatever duties awaited him.

 

            “What time are you gonna be ready to come home?” Nick had asked as the family finished eating breakfast.

 

            “I don’t know.  Since when am I on your clock?”

 

            “Since I have to send someone for you.”

 

            “Nick, I don’t need--”

 

            “Audra, don’t sass me,” Nick warned.  “I’ve got enough on my mind right now.  I don’t need to be worrying about you, too.  Now just tell me what time you’ll be ready to come home and I’ll have one of the men come for you.”

 

            “Nick, I can understand why you wanted Ned to go with Mother and I when we had dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Manners last night, since it would be after dark before we returned.  But it’s broad daylight out now, and I’ll be home from Sarah’s before supper.”

 

            “Yeah, and it was broad daylight when Heath was shot, too, little sister, in the event you’ve forgotten.  So quit givin’ me an argument I don’t have time for and tell me when I should send someone for you.  Believe me, it’s not like I wanna have to pull a man off a work detail in order to play escort for you, but right now I don’t have any choice in the matter so--”

 

            Without saying a word, Heath stood and left the table.  He paused by the parlor table long enough to pick up his gun belt and hat, and then walked out of the front door. 

 

Nick scowled. “What’s with him? He didn’t even finish eating.”

 

Victoria and Jarrod exchanged glances that said, Only Nick.

 

“Perhaps you could choose your words more carefully, Nicholas.” Victoria said.

 

Nick looked at his mother.  “What? What did I say this time?”

 

“Nick,” Audra said, “you made it sound like it’s Heath’s fault that you have to send a man with me to Sarah’s.”

 

“I never said it was Heath’s fault!”

 

“But that’s how it sounded.”

 

“Didn’t sound that way to me.”

 

“Well, it did to the rest of us.”

 

Nick appealed to the rest of his family.  “Mother?  Jarrod?”

 

Victoria nodded, while Jarrod said, “Brother Nick, you’re going to lose this argument before you even start it, so why don’t you just concede defeat now?”

 

“If you want my opinion, all of you pay way too much attention to Fletcher, ‘cause you’re startin’ to sound just him.  I’m gettin’ a little tired of people telling me what I mean and what I don’t mean whenever I say something.  Heath’s just wound too tight these days.  He--”

 

“Nick, cut him some slack,” Jarrod urged, as he thought back to the conversation he’d had in the study with Heath just hours earlier.  “Just like you, Heath has a lot on his mind these days.”

 

Nick threw his napkin on the table as he pushed his chair back and stood.  “I don’t have time to cut him any slack.  We’ve got too much to get done before we leave for Washington.”  The man stomped for the parlor where he grabbed his own gun belt and hat.  “Audra, if you’re plannin’ on going to Sarah’s then get a move on.  I’m gonna need my hired man back before half the day is wasted.”

 

Audra waited until she heard her brother slam the door before rising.  She kissed her mother on the cheek, and then did the same to Jarrod.  “I guess I’d better go before Nick decides I’ve taken up too much of his precious time and places me under house arrest.”

 

Victoria smiled while Jarrod chuckled.

 

“Yes, dear,” Victoria agreed, “I believe it would be best to pacify your brother where this issue is concerned.  I’ll see you at you supper.”

 

Audra waved as she ran for the front door.  When she had exited, Victoria sat back in her chair and pushed her plate aside. 

 

“If things are already this volatile, I can’t fathom what the next few months will be like.”

 

“Not any better, that’s for certain,” Jarrod said candidly, “and they’ll probably grow worse before the trial is over.”

 

“Nick is trying hard to hide how nervous this is making him by falling back on ‘we’ve got a lot of work to do around here before we leave.’”

 

“Yes, he is,” Jarrod agreed. “Nick will never admit it, but I think he’s afraid that some hired gun will shoot Heath, and that there won’t be anything he can do to stop that.  It’s one thing to be a skilled shot like Nick is, and quite another to be part of the contingent that is protecting your brother from the possibility of assassination.  We both know sensitivity is not Nick’s strong suit, but it will tear him apart if something happens to Heath, and even more so, if he feels he’s responsible for it.”

 

“Yes, it will,” Victoria said.  “You know, Jarrod, I can look back to the day Matt and Lucinda arrived, and realize now, just how much like your father Heath is.”

 

Jarrod smiled.  “I’ve noticed that a time or two myself.”

 

“Your father’s reaction to Matt Bentell showing up in his parlor would have been exactly what Heath’s was had Tom been a Carterson survivor.”

 

“In other words, Father would have lost his temper, punched Bentell, and then threatened to kill him.”

 

“That about sums it up,” Victoria agreed with a hint of humor.  “And just like Heath, your father wouldn’t have taken the easy road and hidden from Garrett Reece in an effort to avoid testifying.  Like Heath, as well, he would have put a lot of thought into his decision, and even though his choice might not have been popular with his family, he would have done what he thought was right, despite any opinions to the contrary.”

 

“I know,” Jarrod acknowledged. “And I think this evening Heath would benefit from hearing you tell him that.”

 

“You do?”

 

The lawyer nodded.  “I found him in the study when I arrived home at one-thirty this morning.  I think he’s second guessing himself.”

 

“What makes you say that?”

 

“For the most part, I’m basing it on some questions he asked me.” Once again, Jarrod found himself mulling over why Heath would be concerned with whether or not a jury might sentence a woman to death.  But since he had no clue as to why this was bothering Heath, he didn’t mention it to his mother.  “It doesn’t come as a large surprise to me – this second guessing Heath is doing.  I’ve witnessed it at times with clients who are to give valuable testimony. Suddenly the line between right and wrong becomes blurred.”

 

“And you think that’s happening to Heath?”

 

“To a large extent, yes.  This trial will garner a lot of publicity, Mother.  I believe Heath is just now beginning to see both the good and the bad to that.  For as much as he’d like to see Matt pay for his crimes, I also think Heath is realizing that Matt’s death won’t bring Avery Reece back, or bring back any other man who died in Carterson.”

 

Victoria sighed.  “I’ll be glad when this is over with.”

 

Jarrod smiled.  “We’ll all be glad when it’s over with, but unfortunately, the end is several months away.  If you prefer not to go to Washington, I’m sure Heath will understand.”

 

Victoria didn’t tell her oldest son what she knew to be true in her heart.  Heath would say he understood her decision to remain on the ranch, and would say he didn’t fault her for it, but such a decision would hurt him deeply, and he’d perceive it to mean she disapproved of his decision to testify.

 

“I’m going.”

 

“All right, but keep in mind that Nick and I will be with Heath and--”

 

“I’m going,” Victoria reiterated.  “Heath will need our support throughout this, and my mother’s intuition tells me that while there are times he’ll need the type of support only a brother can give, there will also be times when he needs the type of support only a mother can give.”

 

“How astute of you, my lady.”  Jarrod stood and offered his mother his left arm.  They were taking the buggy into Stockton.  The lawyer would spend the day working at his office, while Victoria devoted the morning to a Lady’s Guild meeting at their church, and then spend the afternoon having lunch with an old friend who lived in town.  She was to meet Jarrod at his office at five o’clock in order to ride home with him.

The hired men were gathered around Nick getting their work assignments when Victoria and Jarrod left the ranch yard.  Heath was in the corral with Phillip, looking over a new string of horses.  Audra was already gone, headed for Sarah’s home with whatever ranch hand Nick had sent with her.  The marshals in charge of guarding Heath stood by the corral, their eyes constantly scanning the area, though Jarrod didn’t think anyone would be foolish enough to breach the security of the ranch yard.  At any given time there could be as many as seventy-five men within shouting distance.  The chances that someone would get close enough to harm Heath under these circumstances were slim to none.

 

Jarrod thought ahead to the next day when Garrett would take a preliminary testimony from Heath.  Jarrod would be in the room with his brother, as would Christian Fletcher.  Heath had already requested that no one else be present, however.  Most especially, not Nick.

 

As Jarrod drove the buggy down the road that led to Stockton with his mother seated beside him, he dreaded the thought of having to break that news to Nick after supper.

 

Nick’s not going to be happy when he finds out Heath specifically requested that he not be privy to anything that’s said tomorrow.  I’ll have to suggest we take a ride after supper so I can tell him several miles from the house.  The last thing Heath needs right now is to be subjected to Nick’s temper.

 

Jarrod lightly slapped the horse’s rump with the reins, getting the animal to pick up its pace.  He was anxious to get to the office.  He looked forward to the respite the day’s work would bring him from his concerns involving Matt Bentell, Carterson Prison, his brother Heath, and a dead boy named Avery Reece.

 

              ___________________________________

 

           

Douglas looked up from the carpet he was sweeping when John Laramie entered his hotel room after breakfast.  He hadn’t seen the man since Sunday evening in the alley, so hadn’t been able to tell Mr. Laramie that he could deliver messages for him.

 

            John nodded at Douglas as he passed the boy on his way to the desk that sat against one wall of the small living area.  Douglas took a deep breath, then approached the man.

 

            “Mr. Laramie?”

 

John turned to face the boy.      “Yes? Douglas, isn’t it?”

 

“Yeah,” Douglas nodded in acknowledgment of his name.

 

“What can I do for you, son?”

 

“Well…I was gonna tell you that if you need me to deliver any messages for you, no matter how late it is, I can do it.”

 

“Messages?”

 

“Yeah.  I was empting garbage in the alley the other night and I heard you give a message to a man.  I can do that for you.”

 

“Oh, you can, can you?”

“Yes, sir.  I’m good at remembering things, and if you just tell me where I’m supposed to meet someone and when, I can get there.  I know most all places around here where a man might want to talk in private.”

 

“I see,” John said, while hiding his panic at the thought of what Douglas overheard the other night.  “You mentioned the word private.  You do understand that if I hire you to deliver messages, that anything you say, or are told to pass on to me, can’t be told to anyone else.”

 

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

 

“So that means you didn’t tell anyone what you heard on Sunday night?”

 

“Oh, no, sir.  I haven’t told anyone.  I’m not a tattletale.”

 

John smiled.  “Well, good for you.”

 

“So do you think you might have some work for me soon?”

 

John stood while putting an arm around Douglas’s shoulders.  Because of what the boy had overheard, John would have to do away with him. But that wouldn’t be a problem, because suddenly, John knew just how he was going to get Heath Barkley off the ranch this afternoon.

 

“Yes, Douglas,” John said, as he gave the boy twenty-five cents for cleaning the room, and then walked him to the door.  “When school breaks for lunch at noon, you meet me in that big stand of oak trees down by the creek where I’ve seen some of your classmates gather to fish after the school day ends.  Do you know where that is?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Make sure you tell your teacher that your mother needed you at home this afternoon, so she knows you won’t be returning for lessons after lunch and won’t send someone to look for you.”

 

“Okay,” Douglas nodded, knowing Miss Hall wouldn’t question that.  She knew he was the man of the house, and that sometimes his mother excused him from school for various reasons.  “And I’ll tell my brothers and sisters that Ma said I had to leave school at lunch time so they won’t wonder where I’m at.”

 

“Good thinking.”

 

Douglas’s eyes lit up with anticipation.  “So, you’ll meet me at the creek and give me a message to deliver to someone?”

 

John smiled as he thought of the day ahead, and how all his problems would be solved by suppertime.  Because Garrett and Chris were meeting Jarrod Barkley for lunch, and then would be returning to his law office for several hours, they’d never even know John had left town.  Instead, they’d assume he was in his room engrossed in trial preparation, like he’d told them over breakfast he’d be.

 

Laramie patted the boy on the back. “Yes, Douglas, I’ll meet you at the creek and give you a message to deliver.  But remember, if you’re going to be my messenger, then mum’s the word.  This has to stay between us.  You can’t even mention it to the attorney general or Major Fletcher if you happen to run across them today.”

 

“I won’t,” Douglas promised.  He hesitated a moment, then asked, “Does being a messenger pay good?”

 

John laughed. “It sure does.  How does ten dollars sound for the delivery of the message, and your silence pertaining to our partnership?”

 

“Ten dollars!” Douglas held his right hand out and shook John’s.  “You’ve got yourself a deal, Mr. Laramie.”

 

“Wonderful,” John nodded.  “I’m glad I found a young man I can count on.”

 

“Oh, yes, sir.  You can count on me.”

 

“Glad to hear it.”  John urged the boy toward the door. “You’d better get a move on. School will be starting shortly.”

 

“Yes, sir.”  Douglas turned around as he placed his hand on the knob. “Mr. Laramie, if you don’t mind me askin,’ who am I gonna be delivering the message to?”

 

“Do you know Heath Barkley?”

 

“Yes, sir.  I sure do.”

 

“Well, that’s who you’ll be taking a message to.”

 

Douglas grinned.  If Mr. Laramie paid him ten dollars to take the message all the way out to the Barkley ranch, then surely Heath would pay him another ten for having traveled so far. Douglas’s dreams of his mother’s kitchen shelves being stocked with food would come true.  It wasn’t easy providing for a family of six, even with the jobs Douglas and his mother had, and the sewing his grandmother did for people when she wasn’t looking after Douglas’s younger siblings, washing clothes, cleaning the house, or cooking a meal. 

 

“I’ll see you at noon, Mr. Laramie,” the boy promised.

 

“Yes, see you at noon,” John said, as Douglas left the room.  He heard the boy run down the stairs, and then a few moments later, watched Douglas emerge from the alley and onto the sidewalk.   Douglas was soon swallowed up with a group of his classmates who were headed for the schoolhouse at the edge of town.

 

John smiled as he returned to his desk.  His plan was falling into place even better than he’d imagined.  He took a piece of paper out of a drawer, dipped his pen into the ink well, and using the code he now had memorized, devised a message to his father that would be sent by telegram later that night.  Robert Laramie would easily decipher the message that appeared to be so innocent in its current form.

 

‘Mission completed. Heath Barkley and the Bentells are dead.  See you soon.  Love, your son, John.’

              ___________________________________

 

 

Jarrod was correct.  The last thing Heath needed was a dose of Nick’s temper, but regardless, he received just that over lunch.  Between Heath’s rebuff of Nick the evening before when the man woke Heath from his nightmare, and then the upset over Nick’s words at the breakfast table, there had been a palpable tension between the brothers throughout the morning. For the most part, they’d stayed out of one another’s way as they went about their work. 

 

Silas placed lunch on the table, then disappeared into the kitchen while Nick and Heath filled their plates. Nick took three bites of beef roast and two bites of mashed potatoes before his initial hunger pains were satisfied.  He glanced at his sibling.

 

“What time are you supposed to meet with Jarrod and Reece tomorrow?”

 

“Don’t know.  Jarrod’ll probably tell me when he gets home ton