Reaching for Dreams

Spring 1876

Chapter 1

Jarrod remembered happily pocketing the $1500 he had won from Hannibal Jordan's man Crown on the train, as that cowboy rode fast on horseback and beat the train to the crossing. That cowboy who now sat on that horse in front of him and his brothers. "He did me a favor today. Sign him on, Nick," Jarrod said.

Nick grumbled, not ready to tell that he'd already had his own meeting with this kid that ended with them both dumped into the river, but he told the kid who to report to. Nick was miffed, because Jarrod usually deferred to him on hiring matters. But it was Jarrod who officially had the last say, and overall, the system worked, so Nick knew he shouldn't even be complaining to himself. Still, as the kid rode off to the bunkhouse, Nick turned and scowled at his brother. "Happy?" he said.

Jarrod took his wallet out. It always took an extra moment, Jarrod having to struggle with one hand, but he took out the $1500 he'd won from Crown, peeled off $500 and gave it to Eugene, and another $500 he gave to Nick. "He won me some money off that railroad man Crown. Does this ease the sting of my bossiness a little bit?"

Eugene was grinning. Nick pocketed the money, still grumbling. "Sorry," he said.

Jarrod put his wallet back into his inside jacket pocket, then gave Nick a slap on the back. "I know I'm a pain, Nick. But the kid made my day, and from the sounds of things with our neighbors, this may be the last day any of us is feeling very good for a while."

"What are we gonna do about that, Jarrod?" Eugene asked.

"I know what I'd like to do," Nick said.

"I know, and you may get the chance," Jarrod said. He had long ago recognized that Nick was growing a quick temper as he grew up, and after their father was killed, he saw that itch in Nick to jump into a fight, any fight, was increasing. "I saw Mill Woods when I got into town. He already knew about the notices the railroad sent around, and he's already working to get injunctions. If he's going to get them, he'll get them today."

"And if he doesn't?" Nick said.

Jarrod said, "Then we'll be standing with our neighbors, tonight and in the morning, and you might get that fight you've been itching for since they killed Father."

Nick was a little surprised to hear Jarrod so ready to fight. That wasn't normally his way. He always tried everything he could to get things done without one, but this time – "Have we run out of legal options, Jarrod?"

Jarrod nodded. "If Mill can't get the injunctions, yes, we have."

They went back inside the house, Jarrod heading straight for another glass of scotch, Nick for the whiskey, Eugene declining a second glass. Nick said, "You said 'we' would be standing with our neighbors. Are you planning to go with us this time?"

Jarrod hadn't gone with Nick and their father six years ago, when Tom Barkley was killed. There were plenty of reasons – with only one arm, he couldn't use a rifle or load a handgun quickly, and facing a battle was something that still made him freeze inside. Moreover, his father had said something that came back to him now - You're this family's future. You have to survive. All of that was still true, except that over the years Jarrod had adapted more and more to being one-handed. Even though he still couldn't handle a rifle very quickly, he had learned how to reload a six gun faster. He had also learned to cope with the memories from the war that made him hesitate at the thought of a battle. And he had learned that his mother's view of what he should be doing when a fight came along was different from his father's view.

Victoria was not willing to put the family's future entirely on her oldest son's shoulders. She had come to know darned good and well that even if the worst happened, even if the fight should take all her sons, she could run this business herself, this empire her sons had built even bigger than she and her husband had. She had studied, and she had learned, and she was quietly teaching Audra what she knew. There were more gold mine interests since Tom had died, even silver mines. More fruit orchards and vineyards and even interests in freight companies and an engineering firm. Freight was a business Victoria was well familiar with since before she was married. She already had a head for business in general, and by now had gotten to know more about all the family businesses than her sons realized.

The engineering firm was Eugene's idea. His brothers had kept him involved in the family businesses, at least peripherally, but on his own he had developed an interest in building roads and bridges, and everyone suspected that was what he wanted to study when he went off to college. The family was ready to support him completely. Every one of them saw the future coming on fast, better roads and bridges and even horseless carriages that would run on them. The world Eugene would be involved with building was going to be far different from the world they knew now, and bigger than this valley here.

But this valley here was what mattered right now. "Are you planning to go with us this time?" Nick had asked.

Jarrod knew that his mother expected him to fight with his brothers if the need arose, and he nodded. "I am."

"They could hit Sig's place tonight," Eugene said. "Midnight, the notice said."

Jarrod hesitated, but then he said, "Nick, can you get some men over there? I really don't think they'll hit him, but if you can send half a dozen or so over there to back him up, it'll help."

Nick nodded. "I'll go talk to McColl."

Nick went out, heading for the bunkhouse. When he went inside, he found that kid, that Heath, still talking with the foreman. Something about that kid bothered Nick a lot, and not just that confrontation with him on the bridge over the river. Maybe his explanation of where he had been working – it didn't explain why he came here and didn't just stop for a job between here and his last job in Corning, a long way off. Maybe it was just his attitude. Maybe it was just his looks.

Heath looked up when Nick came in the door, and Nick saw it. It was his looks. They were familiar, too damned familiar.

"McColl, I need you send half a dozen men over to Sig Swensen's place," Nick said. "I need them there well before midnight, and send somebody now to let Sig know they're coming."

"Trouble, boss?" McColl asked.

"Looks like it."

"Heath, you up to this?" McColl asked.

But Nick quickly said, "No. I want you here tonight, boy. Put him to work mucking out stalls for the time being." With that, Nick turned and left.

XXXXXXX

By the end of the evening, after dinner and before the men who were going to Swenson's were to leave, all hell broke loose. Nick had had one drink too many and went after that kid, that Heath. He dragged him out of his bed and into the stable and they fought like hell until Nick pounded out of him that this Heath thought he was Tom Barkley's bastard son.

Nick woke up the house, dragging the boy into the library and yelling for Jarrod and even Eugene. Still awake, Jarrod tried to keep a lid on the noise and the pandemonium. He didn't want his mother to hear what was going on. But she did hear, and so did Audra, and by the time it came for men to go off to Swenson's, there was enough craziness going on around here that McColl held them back. It was a mistake.

The word came by one a.m., after the Barkley men had given Heath the heave-ho. Swenson had been hit by the railroad goons. All the Barkley men, the brothers and the workers, were over there as soon as they could get there, helping to put the fires out. Luckily, no one had been killed, but by the time Victoria herself rolled up in a buggy, the whole place was burned to the ground.

Shortly after Victoria arrived, Audra rode up, with this Heath, this young man who was supposed to be Tom's son. Victoria wondered why they were together, but she lost her concern when she got her first good look at him. It dropped her heart to the ground. This boy looked more like Tom than any of her sons did. She saw him turn and ride out fairly quickly. She went after him.

She found him grabbing the money Jarrod had offered him but he'd rejected earlier, and some apples from the house. She stopped him. She told him about her husband. She told him, without telling him, that she believed he was her husband's son, and she told him what she expected of him now.

Heath was stunned by everything she said. He had been ready to ride out and put this place behind him, but what she said – fight as he would fight and no one can deny you his birthright – screamed through his brain as he tried to get away. And he couldn't do it.

He put the apples in his saddlebag and mounted up, but then he hesitated. He looked back at that house. "Who is that woman?" he actually asked out loud, talking to his horse as he did now and then when no one was around. "Did she just say what I think she said?"

His horse whinnied, as if she knew he was talking to her, as if she understood what he was saying. Maybe after all this time together, she did understand.

Heath patted her neck. "What do you think, beautiful? Is she really saying she wants to let me in, if I'm ready to fight for it?" Heath chuckled. "What do you think those sons of hers would think of that?"

His horse whinnied again and moved sideways, anxious to get going.

"All right, all right," Heath said. "Let's go see what they think of it."

He knew where everyone would be in the morning – at Frank Sample's place, ready to fight the railroad goons this time. So he went there, and he rode through the goons' line and put himself on the porch beside these men who were his brothers. Even the one with just one arm was there, and he was doing the talking. When eight o'clock rolled around and the shooting started, Heath was shooting right along with everyone else, even if he wasn't entirely sure yet why he was doing it.

Nick and Heath both saw something – one of the goons taking direct aim at Jarrod. Dear God, just like with Father, Nick thought and fired at the man desperately. Both Nick and Heath fired at him, but he hit Jarrod first, and Jarrod went down, falling on his only arm that was now wounded. Nick and Heath both fired again and missed again. It was Jarrod who came back up, fired even with that wounded arm, and hit the man who had shot him. Heath paid attention to that. Heath remembered that.

The fight went on, but it really didn't last long, only minutes, and the place was littered with dead and wounded when it was over and the surviving railroad goons rode away. Heath noticed that Jarrod didn't even favor the wound in his arm, though what he was going to do if it was incapacitated, Heath couldn't figure. He got an answer of sorts when Jarrod walked up to him and handed him a cigar, because he was shaking too hard to roll a cigarette for himself. The one-armed man, bleeding in the only arm he had left, was steady as a rock, and he smiled.

It was clear pretty quickly that Jarrod was going to be at least hampered, at least for a while. He started to weaken from blood loss. Heath himself got him home and Victoria and Audra tended him, bandaged the arm, fretted over the nightmare that now Jarrod Barkley had no arms available at all.

"Don't worry," Jarrod said, declining a sling. "It'll hurt but it'll heal. I'm not going to lose this one."

Out of nowhere, Heath found himself saying, "I'll be your spare arm if you need it, Jarrod."

Jarrod had another smile for him, and a slap on the back. "I think we have a lot to talk about, Heath."

Nick and Eugene came in within a few hours. They had stayed to help out at Sample's farm. Sample was dead. Sheriff Lyman was dead. Ten other men were dead and so were a lot of the railroad men. But the fighting wasn't over.

The fighting at the Barkley mansion had just begun.