MATTY HAZLETT

Part One

"Your father is dead."

The words came out cold and stark, as stark as the contrast between Mother's ash-pale face and the deep-black silk of her dress. The last of the mourners had left the house, and she had finally laid aside her crape-trimmed black bonnet and the long black veil that had seemed to overwhelm her, covering her face and reaching all the way to her feet.

"But," she said, "that does not mean that everything he worked for died with him. He built all of this, the ranch, the mines, the vineyards, the shipping businesses, the investments, everything he did, for you, his sons. Nicholas, the ranch is yours to run. Your father always meant for you to. You and he made it what it is, and he taught you everything you need to know. Now it's up to you to see it becomes what he envisioned."

Nick lowered his eyes to the floor, his black suit, like Jarrod's, was stiff and new, swiftly made for the unexpected bereavement. His black tie felt tight around his neck. How could he run the whole ranch by himself? How could he do any of it without Father?

"Jarrod," Mother continued, "you worked with your father on every aspect of our finances, the business interests, every legal matter, for the past several years. They're yours to manage now. He trusted your judgement and expected you to take what he had earned and make it prosper."

Jarrod nodded, his eyes all the bluer for the deep grief that was in them.

"I know you have both been used to having your father's guidance and support." Mother drew an unsteady breath. "So have I."

Jarrod took her arm, but she only patted his hand and stepped away from him, back straight, queenly head held high, eyes dry.

"Now we must depend upon each other," she said. "It is up to us to see that what your father built endures and grows the way he intended it to. He prepared you both all your lives for this. I know you will make him, and me, very proud."

She kissed Jarrod's cheek and then Nick's, and then she swept up the wide, gold-carpeted staircase and was gone.

Nick looked at his brother not knowing what he ought to do now. It was over. Father was buried, and it was over. They were supposed to carry on now, buying and selling, branding and roping and herding, as if nothing had happened.

Jarrod sat down in one of the chairs in front of the empty fireplace, his black gloves clutched in one hand. "I suppose she's gone up to check on Audra."

Nick nodded. "She was pretty upset by the time the funeral was over, poor kid."

"Maybe you and I ought to talk about all this." Jarrod glanced toward the stairs. "I don't want to bother them. Maybe we should go into the library."

Nick wrinkled his brow. Father's body had been in the library for the past three days. Mother and Silas had washed it and dressed it and laid it out in the casket Mr. Hanley had made especially for him. Jarrod and Nick and four of Father's closest friends had carried that casket from the house to the hearse and then walked behind the black-plumed horses out to the place where Mr. McColl and some of the men had dug the grave, the place where Father had been killed. Over a thousand people had gathered there, many of them weeping, many of them afraid, for if the Coastal & Western Railroad had been bold enough to send someone to murder the great Tom Barkley there on his own land, what else might they do?

When they had come back from the grave to receive the condolences of family and close friends, they saw that Silas had thrown wide the library doors to let in the fresh spring breeze and let out the odor of lilies and death.

"I don't want to go in there," Nick murmured.

"Oh," Jarrod said in the soft, half-distracted voice he'd used since they'd first brought Father home. "No. Not the library."

Nick sat on the settee across from him and put his head in his hands. He didn't even know how to begin. What to do. What to say. The whole world had gone mad three days ago, and he didn't know how it worked anymore.

The morning of that day, the three of them, Nick, Jarrod and Father, had been digging postholes for a new fence line. It had been a nice day, a cool, pleasant day in early spring, but by noon it had grown hot, and they had quickly gone through all the water in their canteens and all the nails they had brought with them.

Father had laughed and said he would go fetch nails and go to the creek for water. "Now that I'm finally getting a full day's work out of the two of you, I don't want to give either of you an excuse to stop."

Then he had given them that lopsided grin of his, and there was humor in his sky-blue eyes. Nick and Jarrod had both laughed, too. If there was one thing their father had taught them is was that the owner of a place had to be the hardest worker on it. "Because," he always said, "nobody else'll love it like you do or care as much what happens to it." His sons had both taken that to heart and knew their father saw and appreciated it.

"Put 'em in straight now," Father said once he'd mounted his horse, and then he was gone.

"Straight now," Nick jibed as he filled in the hole while Jarrod held the post steady.

"Just don't take all day." Jarrod blinked a trickle of sweat out of his eye, and gripped the post more firmly in his gloved hands. "What do you think we've got? Another ten miles of this?"

Nick laughed. "Give or take nine-and-a-half." He squinted at the sun straight over their heads. "You know, maybe after we're done here, we could see about going to look at those horses Strittmatter is selling down in Barstow. Jake Cassidy was telling me they were about as fine a bunch of palominos as he'd seen. Do you think Father'd let us?"

Jarrod shrugged and carried a fence post to the next empty hole. "Might. Or he might say now's not the time to be gone that long. Not with all there is to do around the place."

"There's always a lot to do around the place. Stock like that doesn't come up every day."

"Don't know what to tell you, Brother Nick, except you can ask him about it. For now, why don't you get this post set so we'll be finished here at least by suppertime."

They worked in companionable silence for a while longer until the crack of a gunshot made them both jump.

"Where was that?" Nick said, reaching for the rifle on his saddle.

Jarrod shook his head, scanning the hills. "Why isn't Father back yet? It shouldn't have taken him this long to get nails and fill the canteens. Which way do you think he went first?"

"I don't know. I'll head toward the house. You go over to the creek."

Nick mounted his horse and urged him into a fast trot. It didn't have to mean anything, he told himself, fighting down the dread that had settled into the pit of his stomach. Somebody hunting maybe. It could be that.

"Come on, Coco," he muttered, and the horse increased his speed, kicking up dust.

Nick squinted into that dust when he realized there was someone behind him. A stranger. He pulled up.

"Hey," the man said, coming up to him. "I heard a shot. Was that you?"

He was riding a sleek little black-and-white pinto pony. The man himself was tall and dark, maybe only a couple of years older than Nick was.

"My brother and I were trying to figure out where it came from," Nick said. "Could you tell?"

The stranger shook his head. "Hard to say with those hills over there. I thought it came from up ahead of us. Your direction."

"I don't know. What are you doing out this way? Headed to the ranch?"

"The ranch?"

"The Barkley place. Nothing much out this way besides it."

"Oh." The man frowned and looked around. "I was headed to Stockton. Got a job waiting for me. Guess I missed a turn or something."

"Look, I gotta get going. If somebody's hurt—" Nick nodded curtly back the way they both had come. "You go back about three-quarters of a mile. Take the cutoff past the grove. It'll get you into Stockton."

The stranger touched the brim of his black hat. "Obliged. I hope everything's all right."

"Yeah."

Nick didn't wait to watch the man ride off. He had to find Father. He'd gone less than a quarter of a mile farther when he heard Jarrod calling to him. He wheeled and saw his brother galloping his way. Jarrod was leading Father's horse.

Nick spurred Coco over to his side. "Where'd you find him?"

"Heading back to the ranch. I went over to the creek, but from what I could tell, Father had filled the canteens and gone. I thought maybe he'd been coming this way. To pick up the nails. But I haven't seen any sign of him. We'd better start searching the back way."

"Right," Nick said. "We'll take that trail that leads off in the woods and see if we can find him."

"Yeah. Could be that shot spooked old Malachite here and left him afoot."

Their eyes met. Clearly neither of them believed it.

They rode for a while in silence, scanning the brush and the trees around them, looking for any kind of sign, but there was nothing. Nothing until they came out of the woods upon a quiet grove of trees. They both stopped where they were. About ten yards away lay their father. He was face down in the dirt, and the back of his leather vest was soaked with blood. They both dropped their reins and ran to him.

"Father!" Jarrod reached him first and turned him over, frantically pressing one hand to his wrist and then to his throat and then to his chest. Then he let the air seep out of his lungs. "Father."

The sky-blue eyes were clouded now, open and unseeing, and Jarrod gently closed them. Then he gravely kissed his father's bearded cheek.

Nick shoved him away with a cry, hardly able to see for the tears that pooled in his eyes. "Don't do that!"

"Nick—"

"I said don't!" He shielded their father in his arms, holding him away from Jarrod. "Don't treat him like he's dead."

"He is dead, Nick. He's dead."

Jarrod put one arm around his shoulders, but Nick shrugged him off.

"Just go get the doctor. Go on. You have to hurry. While there's still time."

"Nick," Jarrod said again, and this time he put both arms around him, around him and their father, holding tight as his tears fell into Nick's hair.

"Jarrod," Nick begged, pressing his wet cheek against their father's cold one. "You have to— He can't— Jarrod. Jarrod, please."

Sobs tore at his chest and choked in his throat, and Jarrod simply held him there until neither of them could cry anymore. Finally, Jarrod pushed himself to his feet and swiped his sleeve over his wet face.

"We have to take him home, Nick. Come on now."

Nick squeezed his eyes shut, holding tight for just a moment more. Then he pressed his lips to the side of Father's head and stood up. Jarrod brought Malachite over to where they were.

"Help me get him across his saddle."

Nick glared at him. "We're not packing him out that way like he was no more than a piece of meat."

"We can't do it any other way."

"I'll put him in the saddle in front of me."

"Nick, you can't possibly—"

"Just help me get him up there. I can hold him after that."

Jarrod ran one shaky hand through his black hair and then he finally nodded.

Somehow, between the two of them, they got Father's body up into Coco's saddle. Jarrod held it steady while Nick got up behind.

"All right. You can let go."

Jarrod stepped back, watching while Nick urged Coco forward. But within two steps, Father's body started slipping. Nick struggled to hold it in the saddle while his horse shuffled sideways, uncertain what he was supposed to do with this strange burden. Jarrod went back to them, steadying Coco with one hand to his bridle and using his other to keep his father's body where it was.

"Nick, you can't do it."

"I can," Nick insisted desperately. "I just need to get set."

Jarrod stood as he was, and Nick shifted the body back against himself a little more than it had been before.

"All right."

Jarrod let go.

"Get up, Coco."

They didn't make it far enough to get out of the grove.

"Come on, Nick," Jarrod said gently. "We have to get him home."

Nick wrapped his arms more tightly around his father's body and leaned his face against the broad, blood-soaked back, sobbing again. "I'm gonna kill him, the man who did this. I swear to God, I'm gonna kill him."

Without a word, Jarrod brought Malachite over to Coco's side, and between him and Nick, they managed to lay the body over the empty saddle and tie it securely. Then, in silent agreement, they led the horse home on foot. It didn't seem right to ride.

Even sitting there in the parlor three days later, Nick could still hear his mother's shrill cries when they reached the front of the house. "Tom! Tom! No!"

"I guess it's going to hard to keep things going without Father," Jarrod said, startling Nick out of his grim memories. "But Mother's right. Father spent his whole life building up the ranch and the businesses. We can't let it all fall apart now that he's gone." Jarrod came over to sit on the settee beside him and put one arm around his shoulders. "And she was right when she said he's been preparing us for this all of our lives. I know it's not easy to even imagine it right now." Jarrod managed a ghost of a smile. "But we can do this. We can do this together."

Nick looked up at him, knowing the sullen, angry expression that had been on his face since Father was killed was there now. "I can't."

"Nick—"

"I won't. I'm not gonna sit here and pretend like nothing happened while that—" He bit back a word Mother wouldn't have wanted him to use. "—that yellow back-shooter gets off scot free."

"You have to let the law—"

Nick shrugged out from under Jarrod's arm and leapt to his feet. "The law can't do anything about him!"

"Shh." Jarrod's eyes flashed and he glanced again toward the stairs.

Nick pressed his lips together. No use upsetting Mother or Audra at this point. "The sheriff says he's pretty sure the man's gone across the state line. Can't he or anybody else do anything about him unless he comes back into California, and I expect the Coastal & Western will see he has plenty of money to go wherever he likes from now on."

"Probably true," Jarrod said gravely. "And nothing you do will change anything now. Unless you want Mother to have to bury a son, too."

Nick set his jaw, knowing nothing else would cool the burning in his blood. "I'm the one who saw the man and was too big a fool to kill him when I had my chance. And I'm the one who's gonna kill him now."