PURE GOLD

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.

"Once, when Nick was sixteen years old, he got trapped in a mine shaft. I was up in San Francisco studying law. I woke up in the middle of the night and I started riding, and I didn't stop riding until I got home. Nobody had to tell me my brother was in trouble. I just knew it."

Jarrod Barkley (Night of the Wolf)

PART ONE

"Slow down there, boy."

Nick grinned at his father and put another piece of steak on his plate next to a good-sized mountain of scrambled eggs. "Empty sack won't stand, isn't that what you always say?"

"And one that's stuffed too full is likely to have the bottom bust out of it." Father looked over at Mother, a twinkle in his sky-blue eyes. "What are we going to do with this boy of ours, Victoria?"

"That one's yours," Mother said, taking a calm sip of her tea. "Jarrod is mine."

Nick laughed, remembering how she had told Father that Jarrod was his the last time Jarrod was in trouble.

Audra turned her big blue eyes up to her mother. "But whose am I?"

"Daddy's girl," Father said immediately, and Audra beamed at him.

She was six now. Nick hated to think how she'd have him completely wrapped around her finger by the time she reached the ripe old age of ten.

"Mother's little lady," Mother said, smoothing the blue satin bow in Audra's blonde curls.

"Squirt," Nick muttered out of the side of his very full mouth.

Audra wrinkled her nose at him. "Jarrod thinks I'm a lady. He told me so."

"Yeah," Nick said around a hefty bite of steak, "well, I think you're a squirt. Jarrod's gone all the time anyway. How would he know?"

"He'll be back on Friday, so you can just ask him."

With that and a flounce of her pint-sized shoulder, Audra went back to her breakfast.

Nick kept on eating, washing down his steak and eggs with another glass of cold milk.

"What's your hurry, son?" Father asked.

"Jarrod's coming home in four days. I've got to make sure his Christmas present is ready by then." Nick buttered another biscuit and added it to the pile on his plate. "Got work to do."

Father shook his head. "You know, it's hard enough to keep those long legs in long pants as it is, boy, without you making it worse."

"I'm planning on being taller than Jarrod someday. You just wait."

"Well, you won't be," Audra said. "Jarrod's the oldest and he's going to be a lawyer. He'll always be the tallest."

"And you'll always be a squirt. You don't eat hardly enough to keep a bird alive."

"That's because I'm a lady and you're not."

Nick guffawed. "Got that right."

"Nicholas," Mother said.

She didn't have to say anything else. He knew what she wanted. Lower your voice. Don't tease your sister. Don't talk with your mouth full. Well, he didn't mind. Not today. Today he was just about sure he'd have everything ready, and it would be the best present Jarrod ever had. And then maybe he wouldn't have to stay at that stupid school for months at a time and miss everything fun here at home. Nick didn't care if he was just sixteen, he knew he wasn't ever going away. He wouldn't leave the ranch even if he was twenty. Even if he was thirty!

His plate was clean before Mother had finished her tea, before Audra had picked through that piddling little bit of food she had taken, even before Father had emptied his coffee cup.

Nick put his napkin on the table. "May I please be excused?"

"Really, Nicholas," Mother said. "Everyone else is still eating."

"But I have stuff to do. Important stuff."

"Like fixing that corral fence we talked about yesterday?" Father asked.

"Did that already this morning," Nick told him. "And I mended Coco's bridle and put on his new shoe and cleaned out the tack room."

"Well, I guess I can't complain then. You go see to whatever it is you have to do."

"I'll be back for dinner." Nick gave his mother a quick peck on the cheek. "Uh, Mother?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Can I take some of that pie we had yesterday with me for lunch?"

Mother looked at him dubiously. "Is there any pie left? Or did you eat it all in the middle of the night?"

"Oh, no, Mother." Nick looked at her with perfect innocence. "I didn't have any pie in the middle of the night." He grinned. "I think Silas must've hidden it from me."

Father chuckled. "There's a reason we let Silas run the kitchen."

Mother merely shook her head. "You may tell Silas to pack you a piece of pie, but only if he puts in something a little more substantial for you, too."

"Oh, he will. I've got some hard work ahead of me today. I can't just keel over in the middle of it."

Mother put one hand on his cheek, and he thought for a minute she might hug him or something. "Don't be too long, dear."

"And don't be so dirty when you come home this time either," Audra said primly.

Nick scowled at her. "Oh, go take another bath or something."

"Nicholas."

Before Mother could say anything more, Nick sprinted out of the room. "Silas? Hey, Silas!"

"Nicholas!" Mother scolded, but he was already gone.

OOOOO

Nick unsaddled Coco and staked him where he had plenty of grass and water. Then he dumped out the tools he'd brought with him, and taking the lantern and the best pick axe with him, he wriggled under the boards covering the old mine shaft. Somebody had painted "KEEP OUT" on one of them when it was closed down, but now those letters had faded into the weathered wood, hardly visible anymore. This had been one of Father's mines. They had called it Barkley Suerte, Barkley Luck, and it had yielded some rich ore, but it hadn't lasted very long.

He and Jarrod had sometimes heard the mining engineers discussing it with Father, telling him there was nothing left in it even though they'd been surprised at how quickly it had played out, saying they had been sure there was more gold to be found but still unable to find any evidence of it. For years now, he and Jarrod had come here, determined to find what the others hadn't been able to, determined to make Father proud of them. Then Jarrod had decided to go away to law school, and he didn't have time to look for gold anymore. He didn't have time for anything anymore.

Nick hadn't told anyone what he had found a week ago. He'd been feeling out of sorts, like nothing was quite right, and he'd ended up out here, poking around in the old mine, being mad at Jarrod for not being there, too. He'd taken the pick axe he'd brought and swung it with everything he had. All right, maybe he'd hit one of the timbers a few times instead of the rock wall, but eventually he'd made a good sized hole. After a while, he saw that sparkle, just that bright little vein that he'd been searching for all these years.

"There it is," he'd whispered, eyes wide and heart racing. "It's here, Jarrod. It's really here."

Every day since then, he'd rushed through his chores and then come back to the Suerte, finding more and more of the ore. It wasn't a lot yet, but he'd filled a little bag with it. Enough to prove that he'd actually found something, that he'd found the lost vein of gold. Father and Mother would be so proud, and Jarrod, well Jarrod would be rich with his half of the gold, and then he could stay home and not go back to that stupid law school. Half a gold mine was a pretty good Christmas present, even if Nick did say so himself.

It was well past lunchtime when he swung the pick axe as hard as he could and let it stick in that old timber next to the vein. What he had was enough for now, and Jarrod would have to do some of the work after all. This was going to be a working mine, and he and his brother were going to be equal partners. That was only fair. But, oh, Nick was going to have the best time when Jarrod opened his present Christmas morning and found it full of gold.

He picked up the lantern, holding it close to the gold that ran through the crevices in the rock. He and Jarrod were rich now. Rich all by themselves. Maybe richer than Father. It was an intoxicating notion, and he thought maybe he'd better go out and have some pie and tell Coco all about it. He put all the ore from today into his bag, all except one piece, the prettiest one, he thought. He held that one in his hand. He wanted to see it out in the sunlight.

He tugged at the pick axe with his free hand, meaning to carry it out with him, but now it wouldn't budge. Maybe he'd been a little bit too excited when he made that last swing. He set down the lantern and his bag and put the one nugget on top of it. Then he tried once more to free the pick axe. One handed, two handed, it didn't seem to matter. As hard as he pulled, he could only make the wood creak and make a little dirt fall from the cross timber overhead. Finally he had enough. Bracing his boots against the upright, he pulled with both hands and all his might. With a groan of surrender, the old wood split, landing him on his backside and showering him with rocks and dust, but with the pick axe finally in his hand, he only laughed.

He laughter stopped when the rumble of dust and rocks didn't. The cross timber swung dizzily down from where the upright had long supported it. Realizing the whole shaft was about to come down, he scrambled to his feet, snatched up the lantern, tucked the bag into his belt, and clutched the prized nugget in his fist. He made it only another foot or two before it all crashed down on him.

OOOOO

Jarrod gasped and sat up, blinking as he looked around. The lamp had burned through all of its oil and was as cold and dark as the rest of the room. No, he was still here at school, still in his room, still with exams coming for the next two days. He rubbed his eyes and then rubbed the sting along his cheekbone, knowing there must be long red mark there. Served him right for falling asleep on top of his paper and pencil.

He picked up the paper, struggling to read it in the dim firelight, and then moved closer to the hearth, squinting at his notes. The parties have to be competent to enter into this agreement and they have to have entered into it voluntarily. These agreements (his writing started to wobble a bit here) can be oral, but naturally there inforcability increses if are written. If the agremnt oral, is is stil enfo rce b l e-

The end of that last "e" trailed halfway down the page, eventually running off it. With a groan of frustration, he wadded up the useless paper and tossed onto the grate, and it died in a little burst of flame. Fair enough. He'd get some coffee and start that chapter over. He still had time to go over everything before the first test.

He sat down again and picked up the fallen book from the floor. 564 pages, and he couldn't for the life of him remember which one he'd been on. How was he ever going to be a lawyer if he couldn't keep his mind on his work?

He ran both hands through his hair and squeezed his eyes shut. He had to concentrate. Just two more days and then he could head home. What had made him wake up anyway? Something picked at the edges of his mind and pricked the back of his heart. What had he been dreaming?

Dark, he knew that part. Cold. Yes, certainly. Just a nightmare, nothing else. He couldn't even remember it, except it wasn't right. It was cold and dark and suffocating. He drew another gasping breath just remembering it. That's what had awoken him. Trapped. Alone. Dark. Not getting out. Not getting out.

"Get ahold of yourself," he muttered, forcing himself to stay in his chair, forcing himself to open that book. He looked in the table of contents. Contract Law. That's what he had been working on. Page 416. He tried to turn to it, but he couldn't get the pages to cooperate, couldn't get his fingers to stop trembling. What was wrong?

He wanted to go home. No, he needed to go home. There was something not right there. He knew it. He could feel it. Mother and Father? They could take care of anything, couldn't they? He smiled faintly. Little Audra couldn't be in any trouble. Nick?

He felt that cold, dark, suffocating terror sweep over him. Nick. Stupid, headstrong, impulsive Nick. It was always a surprise when Nick wasn't in trouble. But, no, this wasn't just a scrape. It was more than that. Much more. He could feel it.

Jarrod was wide awake now. He opened the armoire in the corner and got his hat and his heavy coat. Then he rummaged in the drawer in the bottom and got the gun belt stashed away there. He put on the hat and coat and strapped the gun around his hips and then strode down the hallway to the stairs. One of the doors he hadn't gone by yet popped open and Thad Hendricks stuck his head out.

"A little less noise, all right, Barkley? Some of us are trying to study."

Jarrod only glared at him and didn't slow.

"Jarrod?" Thad grabbed his arm as he passed. "Everything okay?"

Jarrod started at the touch that stopped him dead in his tracks and forced the dread again through his veins. "I don't know. I—" He wiped his face with one hand. "Do me a favor, Thad, and tell the dean I had to leave. I had to go home."

"But we have exams in the morning. You'll flunk all your classes if you skip the exams."

"Then I'll flunk. I can't worry about that now. I gotta go home."

"What's wrong?" Thad asked, still grasping his arm. "Somebody sick?"

"I tell you, I don't know."

He wrenched himself free and started back down the hall. He almost fell down the stairs. By the time he reached the front door, his stride had quickened into a lope. Before he reached the stables, he was running. He gave the flummoxed stableboy five dollars to hurry, and soon he was on the road.

It was over sixty miles to Stockton, and he switched horses at every opportunity, overpaying the livery owners for their speed in accommodating him. He just hoped his money would hold out until he got home. He hoped he would hold out. Those feelings of dread, of cold and dark and suffocating confinement, had added a new friend, pain, and they all galloped alongside him, closer and closer as he neared home, closer than his faint shadow in the cold December moonlight.

Nick, what's happened to you?

OOOOO

It was just dawn when the house came into sight. It looked completely normal. Calm. Peaceful. But it was wrong. It was so wrong. The whole ranch ought to be waking up just about now. Father ought to be sitting on the porch with his before-breakfast coffee, watching the sunrise like he liked to do. The ranch hands ought to be stirring. Sure, Mother and Audra would still be asleep yet, but—

"Mother."

She came out onto the porch wearing a dress more suitable for dinner than for breakfast. Her silver-streaked hair was put up the way it usually was, but it didn't look the same. It didn't look as if it had been done just this morning. She'd been up all night.

She looked up at the sound of his horse, sudden hope in her eyes at the sight of him. "Jarrod! Oh, Jarrod!"

He galloped his horse to the porch and flung himself off of it, grabbing her arms. "What's wrong? What happened to Nick?"

"How did you—?"

"It doesn't matter. Tell me what happened. Where's Nick? Where's everybody?"

"Oh, Jarrod." Her lips trembled and then she pressed them together and lifted her chin. "Yesterday morning, he left right after breakfast, saying he had important work to do. We haven't seen him since. Your father and the men have been searching all night."

"Work? What work? Where'd he go?"

She shook her head, tears pooling in her gray eyes. "I don't know. He said it was a present he had to get ready before you came home. A Christmas present."

"For me?" Something stabbed and twisted inside him. Cold. Dark. Suffocation. Pain. "What kind of present? What did he say?"

"I don't know. He wouldn't tell us."

"He came home dirty every day," an uncertain little voice said.

Jarrod saw his little sister peeping out of the front door, looking at Mother as if she were going to be scolded for coming downstairs in her nightgown. He ran to her.

"Dirty?" He knelt down, taking her small hands. "Dirty like when he's pushing cattle or grooming horses? Is that what you mean, honey?"

She shook her blonde curls. "Dirtier. Like he'd had dirt dumped on him or something. Like he'd been digging in it or—"

Digging. He leapt to his feet and grabbed his mother by the shoulders. "Are any of the hands still here?"

Mother nodded, bewildered. "A few."

"You send one of them out to find Father and the men. Tell them I'm going out to the Suerte to get Nick."

"The Suerte? Jarrod—"

"Just tell them. There's no time."

He leapt back on his horse and kicked it into a gallop. "Stupid, headstrong, impulsive Nick," he muttered. He had told Nick not to mess with that mine by himself.

"But what about the gold?" Nick had demanded. "It's our gold, since everybody else has abandoned it. Don't you want to be partners with me?"

"Yeah, sure," Jarrod had said. "We're partners. As soon as I get a chance, I promise we'll come out and find that gold."

That had been right before he had first left for law school. Now he was in the middle of his second year. He hadn't been back to the Suerte once since then.

"What have you done, little brother?" he breathed as the sun rose behind him. "You shouldn't have gone in there without me."

After what felt like an eternity, he reached the entrance to the mine. There was Coco staked out beside it, looking glad to finally see someone coming to get him. Jarrod wrapped his rented horse's reins around a nearby tree branch and ran to the mine entrance. An armload of tools had been dumped there along with Nick's saddlebags. Jarrod grabbed a pick and a shovel and twisted himself under the bottom board blocking the opening.

There was no light, nothing beyond the few slanted rays of sunrise that made their way past the boards. He had to have some way to see. He turned and used the pick axe to bust the boards into long pieces, and then he picked the likeliest one and set the end on fire. The old wood was dry as dust, and it went up like the match he had used to light it. This was better, but he knew even this little bit of light wouldn't last long. He grabbed the pick and shovel and several more of the boards and carried them deeper into the mine.

"Nick? Nick! Can you hear me? Are you in here, boy? Nick!"

All that answered was the thud of his running footsteps and the echo of his own voice. Nothing here looked any different than it had the last time he and Nick had come. Where could Nick be? Had he guessed wrong? No, he must be here. His horse, his saddlebags, his tools were all proof. Where could he be?

"Nick!" Jarrod shouted and then he lurched to a stop. There was no more tunnel, only a pile of rock and rotten timbers.

"No," he breathed. "No, no, Nick. No."

He dropped his tools and the bits of wood he'd brought with him. Then he stuck his makeshift torch in between a couple of rocks, barely able to see by its wan light. He didn't care. It didn't matter. Nick was there in the cold, in the dark, trapped, suffocating. Dead.

"No," he growled, throwing off his hat and coat and picking up the pick axe. "No. No, you won't do that to me, Nick. You won't. I won't let you be dead."

He swung the pick with every word, breaking through dirt and rock and wood until he could finally use the shovel to hurl pieces out of the way. He didn't know how bad the cave in had been, how far back it went, how deep Nick—

"You just hang on, little brother."

He swung the pick again, harder and faster, and then switched to the shovel once more, pitching dirt and rock behind him until the light faded almost to nothing. He pulled out another piece of dry wood from the pile and lit it from the first and then wedged between the rocks as he had the other one. Then he dashed the sweat out of his eyes, looking at the work he had done already. In the brighter light, he could see over the top of the rockfall and into the blackness of an open space. Maybe it wasn't as bad a collapse as he thought, not the whole shaft but just a piece of it.

"Nick!" he yelled as loud as he could. "Nick, are you there?"

Silence. Silence. Dead silence.

He started with the pick axe again, this time every blow a prayer. Please. Please, God. Please.

Once more, he shoveled out the debris, throwing it behind him, forcing his arms and shoulders to keep on, to go faster, to dig deeper, to not give up, to—

A hat. A mangled, dirt-filled hat slid down with a shower of pebbles and a choking cloud of dust.

Nick's hat.

Jarrod threw the shovel aside. He had to use his hands now. He couldn't risk hitting his brother with the axe or the shovel. Nick had to be here, right here, right within reach.

He pulled out more pieces of rock, shoved aside more dirt, finally he felt rough wood, heavy, wedged diagonally across the shaft. Under it, under the end that rested on the floor, he saw a clenched fist and an outstretched arm with a dark head resting on it.

"Nick," he sobbed, scrabbling through the remaining debris until he could reach that arm, until he could press that wrist with his torn fingers and feel for a pulse.

It was there. He laughed low in his throat as he worked his way closer to the rest of his brother. The pulse was weak, but it was there. Hardheaded Nick, he was too stubborn to let a little old cave in bother him.

"Nick," Jarrod said, patting his arm, trying to rouse him. "Come on, boy. Time to go home."

It took longer than he wanted, and Nick never stirred, but Jarrod finally managed to grab the shoulders of his shirt and pull him forward far enough to get hold of him under the arms. Then, hoping the rest of him wasn't pinned under something, Jarrod pulled. It took him three or four tries, but finally Nick budged. Jarrod dragged him out from under the timber that had saved his life.

"Nick." Jarrod dropped panting next to his brother and patted his slack face. "Nick?"

Jarrod pressed one hand to Nick's throat. The pulse was stronger there. Why didn't he wake up? He needed the air. The air and the sun and the sound of outside. That's what Nick needed now, not more of the cold and the dark.

Jarrod would have to carry him out. He scrambled to his feet and grabbed the rest of the wood pieces he had brought with him. He lit one from the one still burning and started toward the mine entrance. When he couldn't see the first one anymore, he lit another and propped the second one against the wall. He repeated the process until he could see the light of the opening. Then he ran back to where he had left his brother.

Nick was stirring then, moaning and struggling to sit up, still with his left hand clenched.

"You just keep still." Jarrod fell to his knees beside him. "Tell me where you hurt."

"Mmmm, head. Back." Nick winced. "Ankle. Ankle's the worst."

Jarrod could tell that right ankle wasn't twisted the normal way. He'd have to let the doctor take care of that.

"All right," he said. "I'm going to get you out of here before I knock you into next week."

Nick gave him a halfway grin that turned into a groan as Jarrod picked him up. Jarrod walked as fast as he could down the dimly lit shaft until he was finally able to lay Nick on the grass outside. Nick just lay there, eyes closed, face turned up to the sun, until Jarrod held a canteen to his dusty lips.

"Coco," Nick said once he'd had his fill, trying to turn towards his horse, but Jarrod put one arm under his shoulders, cradling his head, keeping him where he was.

"Coco's fine. You left him with good grass and water."

Nick nodded and then managed to open one eye. "Now you gonna knock me into next week?"

"Maybe next week," Jarrod said, ruffling his hair.

"Don't tell Father."

Jarrod took a deep drink from the canteen himself and then wiped his mouth with his dirty sleeve. "Father's headed here right now, Nick. Either way, how could we not tell him?"

Nick wriggled a little closer. "We could tell him I got thrown."

Jarrod couldn't help laughing at that. "You know it doesn't do any good to tell Father anything but the absolute truth. He always finds out anyway."

"Yeah, but— "

"He and the men ought to be here before long, Nick. He's going to want to know what happened."

"I know."

Nick was silent for a while.

"Why don't you tell me what happened," Jarrod said gently. "Maybe I can explain it to him in a way that will go down better."

"I guess there ought to be some good reason we sent you to that law school." Nick peeked out of one eye again. "Not that you weren't already a slick talker way before then."

"Ahem. Did you or did you not want me to be the one to tell Father what happened?"

Nick chuckled and then groaned.

Jarrod tightened his hold on him. "It's all right, boy."

Nick steadied himself with a few deep breaths and then finally opened both eyes, a spark of excitement in their hazel depths. "I found it, Jarrod. I really did."

"Found what?"

Nick finally unclenched his left hand, showing the piece of ore he had been clinging to. "I found it for us, Jarrod. We're partners, and now we're rich. And now you don't have to stay at that stupid school and then work as a lawyer. You can stay at the ranch all the time. Won't that be great?"

Jarrod took the ore from him, examining it in the light. "Nick—"

"It's all right, Jarrod. You take that one. That one's yours. There's a whole bag back in there somewhere. I was going to give it to you for Christmas, but it doesn't matter, because the real present is the whole mine." Nick's eyes shone. "Merry Christmas, big brother."

Jarrod closed his hand, clutching the ore as his brother had done. "Nick, I— You don't—"

Nick sighed, his hazel eyes closing again, and Jarrod wrapped both arms around him. "Merry Christmas, little brother."

He was wondering if he should try to get Nick home by himself, when he heard the thunder of hooves and then saw his father and the ranch hands riding toward the mine.

Father threw his reins to the man closest to him and jumped to the ground to kneel beside his sons. "Jarrod, is he all right? Is he alive?"

Jarrod nodded and saw the panic in his father's eyes ease into worry. "He's just passed out. I think his ankle's broken and I'm sure he hurts all over, but he was talking to me just a minute ago. I think he'll be all right, but we ought to get him home."

Father cupped Nick's scraped cheek in one big hand, shaking his head over him, and then he stood up. "Staples, you ride into town and get the doctor out to the house. The rest of you men, get on back to the ranch. Twenty dollar gold piece to the first one of you who lets Mrs. Barkley know everything's all right."

With a whoop, the men spurred their horses and were gone.

Father knelt again and put his arms under Nick's shoulders and knees. "I'll put him in the saddle in front of me."

Jarrod bit his lip and didn't loosen his hold. It was too soon yet. When they got home, there'd be the doctor and Mother and Audra and Father still, of course. He wasn't quite ready to let go.

"May I do it, Father?"

"You look worn out, son. And I can see you could use a little tending to yourself."

"Not yet," Jarrod said, holding on a little tighter.

"All right, but let me help you."

Between the two of them, they got Nick up into the saddle of Jarrod's rented horse, and then Jarrod got on behind. Father got into his own saddle, leading Coco, and they made the slow trip back to the ranch. Somebody would have to come back to pick up the tools and Nick's saddle and board up the mine again so some fool kid wouldn't get himself nearly killed in it.

Jarrod didn't say anything. He was too tired to think about what he ought to say. There would be time enough for explanations at home. Father seemed to understand. He merely rode at Jarrod's side, maybe a little bit behind so he could make sure his boys didn't need any help.

Finally, with Nick settled against his shoulder, Jarrod decided he ought to at least say something. "Father, I know we weren't supposed to," he said softly, "but Nick and I have been digging in that old mine for a long time. He— We thought maybe there was still some gold in there. I guess this is what he was so excited about."

Jarrod handed his father the chunk of ore Nick had given him.

Father studied it a moment and then shook his head. "Son, this is nothing but iron pyrite. Fool's gold."

Jarrod took it back from him, poking it securely into his grimy shirt pocket.

"I know, but I was awful glad when he gave it to me." He held Nick a little closer. "It's the best Christmas present ever."

Author's Note: This is my first try at Big Valley Fan Fiction. It's quite a departure from what I usually write, but some plot bunnies cannot be beaten back. I hope you Nick and Jarrod fans like it. I'd love to know what you think.

To my Narnia readers: I haven't abandoned my unfinished story or you. Stay tuned.