A/N: This is a continuation of my story, 'The True Measure of Wealth'.
In the previous story, the gold from the River Monarch was never found. The mine collapsed before Nick could get there, killing Jock McLean and Cyrus DeLand. The Barkleys had to sell off their assets to repay the money, leaving them only with the remainder of the ranch. The story explores how the Barkleys come together as a family to solve problems they would have just been able to solve with money before.
I think this story can stand alone, but reading the first one might provide a context for some of the events here. This starts a little over two months later.
Just a warning, each chapter is fairly short. Hope you like it! LL
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"Give, and it shall be given to you… For whatever measure you deal out to others, it will be dealt to you in return." Luke 6:38
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October 29, 1877
"Jarrod, dammit, we've got to do something about this!"
Nick slammed the newspaper down on the desk in front of the lawyer, sending some other papers fluttering to the ground.
"Nick, have you ever heard of knocking?" Jarrod sighed, his train of thought broken by his brother's disruptive entrance into his office.
Nick ignored him. "Have you seen the pack of lies Doolin's printed this time? How long are we going to let him get away with this?"
Jarrod leaned back and set down his pencil. Ever since the River Monarch disaster, the editor of the Stockton Eagle had delighted in using his editorial column to subtly denigrate the Barkley family. It seemed as if Peter Doolin wouldn't rest in his futile effort to drive Tom Barkley's family out of the valley in shame.
"Nick, haven't you noticed every time Doolin prints one of those editorials, he loses a bit more credibility?" Jarrod questioned his volatile younger brother.
The mood in Stockton started to change since the devastating fire at the Stockton orphanage. It hadn't gone unnoticed that the Barkleys were the primary benefactors after the fire, donating selflessly of their time and energy in the rebuilding and housing most of the children until the new dormitory was finished.
In fact, Doolin had been grasping at straws ever since the brothers risked their lives to extinguish the immense forest fire that had threatened not only outlying farms and ranches, but the town of Stockton itself. The editor of the Eagle had tried to portray the act as selfish, that the Barkleys were only trying to protect their own interests, but the prevailing feeling of hostility in town had turned to one of shame for the way they'd treated the family which had long supported the area's citizens, not the least of which was the sacrifice of Tom Barkley's life in standing up to the railroad to save the land of many small farmers in the valley all those years ago.
Hands had again been extended in friendship and the Barkleys magnanimously accepted them, but not without the memory of how easily their 'friends' had turned on them. The past eight months had shown whom their friends truly were and who just wanted to associate with the family's perceived wealth and prestige. That hard-won lesson wasn't going to be forgotten anytime soon.
"That doesn't change the fact that he's still doing it," Nick growled, breaking Jarrod out of his reverie. "And it doesn't change the fact that Doolin was the real thief, not our father."
"No, it doesn't," Jarrod admitted. "But we still can't prove it." He took out his watch, checked the time and smiled wryly. "And since your interruption means I likely won't get any more work done today, I'll let you buy me a drink before we head home."
"Now wait just a minute," Nick protested with a grin of his own as Jarrod retrieved his hat and gunbelt, "I think the successful lawyer ought to be buying drinks for the hard working rancher here."
Jarrod chuckled. "Oh, no, brother Nick, after crowing about the price you negotiated for that last crop of mustangs, I'm pretty sure the rancher is at least as successful as the lawyer right now."
"Well, I reckon that is a fact, brother Jarrod," Nick admitted, laughing. "I reckon I can even treat you to the best Harry's got." He slung a companionable arm around Jarrod's shoulders as the two brothers left the office, leaving the petty words of a petty man lying on the desk behind them.