WATCHING THE RAIN
Disclaimer: Jarrod and Nick Barkley and all of the characters and situations in The Big Valley are the property of their copyright holders and are, sadly, not mine. I'm only borrowing them.
Jarrod watched the rain as it beat against his bedroom window, wild and hard and cold in the night. December rain was always cold.
He wasn't sleepy. He guessed he ought to be, it was after eight o'clock, but he wasn't. Christmas was tomorrow, but he knew already there wouldn't be any Christmas. Not really. Not this year. Maybe Mrs. Bandy would do something to remember the day, but he doubted it. That was all right. She wasn't really supposed to. She was only here because Mother was ill and Father was away and there wasn't anybody else.
Jarrod smiled just a little. Silas would do something. Not much, maybe, but he'd make much over him and Nick as he always did and fix something special for breakfast. Like he did on their birthdays.
The smile faded, and Jarrod watched the rain. If it was still raining in the morning, he wouldn't be allowed to go out and see the Christmas foal. It was supposed to come any time now, Mr. Duke had said, especially since there was a storm due. He had come to the ranch to take care of the horses, and Father said he was a good man, a man he could trust, and that when Jarrod and Nick were big enough to run the ranch, they'd probably have to look some to find a better one to help them. Besides, Mr. Duke didn't mind too much if Jarrod asked him questions and if Nick got in the way. He didn't even get too mad when Nick got into the stall with Malachite after Father told him to never, never, never get close to the horses unless he was there. Mr. Duke had taken the time to explain to Nick how big the horses are and that they spooked easy and might not see a little boy under them until it was too late to keep him from being hurt.
Not that any of that was going to keep Nick away from the horses for very long. Or from climbing fences or getting into the hayloft or trying to swim in the stream behind the house. Jarrod would just have to watch out for him. Like always.
He heard the click of his doorknob and then somebody trying to be very quiet coming toward him. The tug on the back of his nightshirt didn't surprise him in the least.
"Jawwod?"
He turned to see Nick looking up at him, his black hair tousled and his eyes round. He was dragging that old blue quilt that had once been Jarrod's own.
"Why aren't you in bed?" Jarrod looked over at the door, still open just a crack to the low nighttime light of the hallway.
"I was scawed."
Nick crawled up into the window seat and snuggled up to Jarrod's side. Scared was the last thing Jarrod would ever call his little brother, knowing he'd been giving Mother fits with his bravado ever since he'd been born, but Nick didn't like thunderstorms. He didn't like the way the flash and boom shook the house and made the windowpanes rattle. Jarrod didn't much like them himself.
"You shouldn't have gotten up," Jarrod whispered. "You know what Mrs. Bandy said she'd do."
Nick's scowl was just like Father's. "I won't let her pinch my head off. I'll— I'll punch her nose!"
Jarrod shook his head. "We're not supposed to hit any girls."
"Well, I'll— I'll—"
Thunder crashed and Nick threw his arms around Jarrod, hiding his face against his big brother's chest.
Jarrod slung one arm around his shoulders. "It's all right, Nicky. I won't let Mrs. Bandy get you. Not her or anybody else. Not ever."
Nick didn't let go, but he looked up, and his smile was as sunny as ever. "I know. And when we have our little bruvver, then you can help me take care of him."
"Okay," Jarrod said, but he wasn't at all sure about that now, about having a little brother.
Mother had had to stay in bed for a long time. For awhile, he and Nick got to see her, got to spend time playing in the sunny blue room that was hers and Father's, even sometimes, if they were good, got to nap there with her in the afternoons. And, while they were falling asleep, she would tell them about the new brother or sister they were going to have. Nick never called the baby anything but "bruvver" no matter how many times Mother said they couldn't yet be sure which it would be.
Then had come that terrible night when Mrs. Peters, one of the ladies Mother knew, had come to look after her, and after that, the doctor. Jarrod had heard his father pacing up and down the hallway all night long. He'd peeped out his door to see him with Nick sound asleep against his shoulder, holding him tight, sometimes his lips pressed to Nick's dark hair, still pacing and pacing, and his eyes had been more scared than Jarrod had ever seen.
Jarrod had fallen asleep after that, and when he woke later, the pacing had stopped. The house was quiet except he could hear the doctor and Mrs. Peters in Mother's room talking low. He needed to know where Father was. And Nick.
Making sure nobody would see, he pushed his door open, only wide enough to slip through, and hurried down the hallway to the front stairs. There was a light in the parlor, but whether that was from a lamp turned down low or just the firelight, he couldn't tell. With another glance behind him, he hurried down the stairs, his hand sliding down the polished banister, his bare feet silent on the plush golden carpet.
Father was sprawled on his back on the settee. On the floor beside him was an almost-empty bottle of that medicine-smelling stuff Father and his friends sometimes drank after they ate supper. Nick was asleep, too, draped over his chest with one small fist clutching the pocket in Father's shirt.
"Father?" Jarrod whispered. "Father?"
Father didn't move, but Nick lifted his head, blinking like a hoot owl.
Jarrod put one finger to his lips and then carefully lifted Nick into his arms and carried him back upstairs. He'd be in trouble in the morning, but he didn't care. He just tucked Nick into bed beside him and, after a while, fell asleep.
It was just dawn when he heard someone call softly to him.
"Mister Jarrod." Silas was leaning over him, concern on his dark face. "What you got that baby in here with you, Mister Jarrod? Everybody got worries enough today without thinking he got into mischief outside. Best let me put him back in his own bed."
"I think Father fell asleep in the parlor."
Silas's lips tightened. "I reckon so, but I've seen to him." He picked Nick up, not waking him. "You go on back to sleep now."
"Silas?"
Silas raised one dark brow.
"Why was the doctor here? Is Mother sick?"
"Just a little bit sick, Mr. Jarrod. She's gonna be fine, the doctor tells us. Now you go to sleep, and by and by I'll have you some nice breakfast." He smoothed back Jarrod's hair with one gentle hand. "You go on now."
Jarrod slept again, and when he woke he realized it was much later than he expected. Silas was bringing him his promised breakfast and telling him in a low voice to remember not to make too much noise that day. He let Jarrod and Nick play in the kitchen after awhile and let them help him cook and do his other chores until it was night again. Jarrod didn't see Father all day, and he told Nick maybe neither of them ought to ask about him quite yet. It was Silas who put Nick to bed and told Jarrod he ought to go on to his own room, too. But Jarrod hadn't been able to sleep. He wanted his mother and his father. He wanted to know why everything was so very quiet if Mother really was going to be all right.
The voices woke him very late in the night. At first he thought he was dreaming, but then he realized he was not. It was Mother and Father. He could hear them, their voices hard and angry, the words unintelligible, and he wanted to pull his covers over his head until he couldn't hear them anymore. Instead he wrapped his arms around himself, staring up at his white ceiling and waiting until it was over.
Finally Mother's door slammed open. He heard the sharp crack of a palm on flesh and then her voice, shrill in the darkness.
"Then go on, Tom! Just go!"
The sound of his father's heavy boots rattled the house, and then the front door slammed open and shut. Then Mother's door slammed shut and everything was silent.
Jarrod was terrified, but he must have eventually dozed off, because it seemed only an instant later that the doctor was back and so was Mrs. Peters and another lady friend of Mother's, and Silas was too busy to do more than tell Jarrod to go back to sleep. He didn't have time for anything the next day but to give Jarrod and Nick sandwiches made from last night's roast and cold milk from the icebox.
Jarrod figured maybe the best thing to do was try to keep Nick out of mischief, so the two of them played for a while in the library and then in the kitchen and then, when Jarrod could tell they were underfoot, outside with a couple of the colts that had been new that past spring.
That was when Mr. Duke had told them about the foal Ruby Sue was supposed to have in a couple of weeks. "Right around Christmas, boys. Won't that be a great present?"
"Can I have it?" Nick had asked. "If it's just a baby, it won't be too big for me, will it?"
"You'll have to ask your pa about that," Mr. Duke had said, and suddenly he wasn't smiling anymore. "Uh, anyway, you can come see it. It'll be a fine sight, I promise you."
"Mr. Duke?" Jarrod had asked when he couldn't stand it anymore. "Where'd my father go?"
For a minute, Mr. Duke looked mad, and Jarrod thought maybe he shouldn't have asked, but then the big man clasped his shoulder. "There's a little town called Strawberry not so far away from here. Your pa's got a mine there, and I expect he went to see to it. I'm sure he'll be back before too long."
"Before Christmas?"
"Maybe so, son. Maybe so."
But that had been more than two weeks ago now. Father hadn't come back. The doctor came almost everyday, and there was a nurse brought in to stay with Mother all the time, and Mrs. Bandy had been hired to look after Nick and Jarrod and help Silas see to the house. And Jarrod watched the Christmas Eve rain.
"Jawwod?" Nick asked around a yawn.
"Yeah?"
"Did you have your birfday?"
"A few days ago." Not that anybody noticed.
"Are you eight now?"
"Yeah."
Nick held up three fingers. "I'mma be four pretty soon."
Jarrod straightened Nick's pinky finger. "Four. And not till spring."
"Pretty soon. Can we see the baby colt tomorrow?"
"Maybe. If it came, and if it's not raining."
Nick yawned again and settled his head in Jarrod's lap. "It'll be a fine sight," he said before drifting off to sleep.
"A fine Christmas," Jarrod said, and he watched the rain.
OOOOO
Jarrod woke up in his bed. Nick had likely been taken to his own sometime in the night. Must've been Silas, Jarrod figured, because nobody had shaken him awake and scolded him.
He stretched and blinked hard and then couldn't help smiling. The light was golden as it fell across his bed, and the air had that fresh sweetness that came only after a rain.
"Happy Christmas to you, Mr. Jarrod," Silas said as he brought in a pitcher of hot water for Jarrod to wash with.
Jarrod sat up. "Happy Christmas, Silas. Where's Nick?"
"Mr. Nick downstairs sorting out the pots and pans."
Jarrod grinned. "Sorting out the pots and pans" was something Silas gave Nick to do to keep him busy. At least for a minute or two.
"I tell you what though," Silas said as he took one of Jarrod's freshly ironed shirts from the armoire. "If you don't pretty soon take him out to see that horse he been talking about, I'm just gonna go right on ahead and lose my mind."
Jarrod giggled. Maybe it was going to be a fine day after all. "I'll hurry."
Pretty soon he was washed and dressed and taking Nick to see Mr. Duke. They went to Ruby Sue's stall, but there wasn't a new foal. And her tummy wasn't big anymore.
Mr. Duke knelt down in the straw next to them. He was a big man even if he wasn't very old, bigger than Father. "I'm sorry, boys. Ruby Sue did have her foal last night, but it was born dead like—" He stopped himself. "Like happens sometimes."
Nick scowled at him. "But why? Where'd it go? I wanted to have it."
"It's gone, little bit," Mr. Duke said. "We'll just have to wait until she has another one."
Jarrod took his little brother by the hand. "Come on, Nicky. Let's go have some breakfast."
Silas was standing in the back door waiting for them. "One of the hands just now told me about that foal, Mr. Jarrod. I'm sorry."
Jarrod shrugged. A fine Christmas.
"But I have something I think might just make things look a lot better for you. I made you and Mr. Nick a fine Christmas breakfast."
"Thank you, Silas," Jarrod said woodenly.
"But that's not the best part, Mr. Jarrod. You and Mr. Nick gonna have that breakfast up in your mama's room with her."
OOOOO
The blue room was flooded with sunlight, and Mother was sitting up in her bed. Her face was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes, but there she was smiling and the yellow ribbon in her soft brown hair matched her yellow gown.
"Mother?" The covers were over her, but Jarrod could tell her stomach wasn't big anymore. Like Ruby Sue's.
She held out her arms. "Come in, my darlings. Merry Christmas."
Nick bolted to her, clambering up into the bed with eyes alight and a smile as bright as that morning's sun. "Muvver, we missed you."
She hugged him to her, tears pooling in her gray eyes. "I've missed you, too, sweetheart. So much." She reached out her free hand. "Jarrod, darling."
He went to her, afraid to touch her, afraid to say what he feared.
"Gently, young man," the nurse said sternly, and then she looked at Mother. "As I told you, ma'am, only if you're very careful."
"I know," Mother said, still smiling, "but this is the best medicine I could have right now." She took Jarrod's hand, tugging it until he got up beside her, across from Nick. "Now that's better. That's much better.
"Mother?" Jarrod said again.
"Where's my bruvver?" Nick asked abruptly, frowning.
Mother's lip trembled, and she leaned over and kissed him on the top of the head. "Will you do something for me, Nicholas?"
Nick nodded eagerly.
"Will you let Mother tell you about that when she's feeling better? I want to have a happy Christmas with my boys. Would you do that for me?"
Nick considered for a minute, and then he wriggled down next to her in the bed and laid his head against her.
"Right now," she said, "I want us to have the wonderful breakfast Silas made for us for Christmas."
Jarrod nodded and Silas brought them a tray of food that they all shared, biscuits and bacon and mounds of scrambled eggs and a buttery cake with sugar and cinnamon, but Jarrod hardly tasted it. All he could think of was Mother and Ruby Sue and wonder what could be so important at that mine in Strawberry. Finally he couldn't stand it anymore.
"Mother, shouldn't Father be here? I mean, for Christmas."
Mother looked down at her plate, and for a long time Jarrod was sure she wasn't going to answer him. Finally, she put her fork down and put her arm around his shoulders.
"I wasn't going to say this yet."
"You don't have to, Mother." Jarrod patted her hand. "You don't have to."
She shook her head.
"Sometimes," she said, "when someone is unhappy, he— or she— might say something unkind. And the other person, no matter how much the two of them love each other, might also say things, not because he means them, but because he's hurting, too. Your father loves you boys so much, and there was nothing he wanted more than to have another son." She touched her lips to Nick's cheek and squeezed Jarrod closer. "To give you the little brother you both want. And when— when we realized that wasn't going to happen right now, it made us both—" Her voice broke, and Jarrod couldn't help the tears that filled his eyes. "It made us both so very sad, we said things we didn't, couldn't, mean."
"But why wouldn't he come back?" Jarrod asked, angry tears now staining his cheeks. "When you were so sick, why didn't he come back."
"Because I wouldn't let anyone send for him. Because I was foolish and didn't want him to know. Because I wanted him to feel bad instead of letting him help us both feel better."
Jarrod ducked his head against her shoulder, snuggling close to her the same as Nick, trying hard not to cry anymore. Crying wouldn't help anything right now.
After a minute, he sniffled and sat himself up again. "I'll take care of you, Mother. Don't worry. I'll take care of you and Nick, too. We'll be okay until Father comes home."
She hugged him to her again, kissing his face five or six times. "I know you will, darling, but I don't think we'll have to wait too long now. I don't think I want to be foolish anymore."
That night, Father came home.
And it was a fine Christmas indeed.