Reinventing Jarrod Barkley
Chapter 1
It was a moonless night. The only real ambient light came from the house. Jarrod Barkley looked at his shadow, casting itself long into the yard. He lifted his arm and took a puff on his cigar, and so did his shadow. Jarrod Barkley's shadow, he thought. I'm Jarrod Barkley.
"What are you thinking about?" his mother's voice came from behind him.
Jarrod smiled. "Oh, just thinking about how much my life has turned around in the past couple weeks."
"For the better, I hope," Victoria said.
"Oh, yes," Jarrod said quickly. "It's taking some getting used to, but I've been nobody and now I'm somebody. I like being somebody better."
"How are you feeling?"
He was still recovering from a bullet wound, given to him by a man he'd prosecuted once and sent to prison. He said to his brother Nick that he'd been shot in the side for something he couldn't even remember how to do. "I've still got the feel of the stitches in there if I turn a certain way, but it's coming along."
He'd been confined to the ranch for more than two weeks now. He didn't like it. He wondered if he was always so uncomfortable being stuck in one place, or if that was something that came with his amnesia. His permanent amnesia.
He wasn't remembering anything at all that was more than a year old, since the day he was knocked off his horse and came to not knowing who he was. He used to think he would see something or hear something and suddenly all his memories would come back. That never happened. It wasn't going to happen. He had to face it – he was stuck with a permanently damaged brain.
"That's an unhappy face," Victoria said.
He didn't realize his feelings were showing. "Just sorry my memory isn't returning. It would be nice to know how I did what I did to get shot for."
"I saw you looking through some of these legal books today. That doesn't help?"
"No. I've been doing that now and then since I got here, but they don't mean anything to me. Except that for some reason, I seem to be able to translate the Latin – like on the one set of books, 'Corpus Juris.' For some reason, I know it means 'body of law.' I have absolutely no idea why I can translate Latin but I can't remember my middle name."
"Thomas. Haven't we told you that?"
"I haven't asked. Thomas, huh?"
"Your father's first name. We disagreed on whether to have a junior running around, so we compromised on having his name be your middle name."
"Jarrod Thomas Barkley. Sounds very staid, doesn't it. Very proper. Nothing like Dakota."
Victoria felt a little sad at the way he said that. "Do you want to go back to being Dakota?"
"No, 'Dakota Barkley' just doesn't sound right at all. I'll stick with Jarrod Thomas. Now, all I have to do is fill in the blanks as to who Jarrod Thomas Barkley really is."
"He's a fine man, a trustworthy man, and an excellent lawyer."
"He might have been an excellent lawyer once, but he isn't anymore. Those legal books mean nothing to me, Mother, even if I can translate the titles. And I'm far too old to begin studying law again."
Victoria had a question she'd wanted to ask since Jarrod began to feel stronger. "Have you talked to Dr. Merar about your amnesia?"
"A bit," Jarrod said. "He knows I have it. He told me there was nothing that can be done for it. I just have to wait and see if my memory comes back on its own."
"I just wonder."
"Wonder what?"
"Your life has been in the courtroom. It was almost more home to you that this house was, or your home in San Francisco. I just wonder if anything might come back to you if you went to court and watched a trial, talked to some of the lawyers around town. Something might come back."
Jarrod thought about it, doubted it, but then shrugged. "I don't suppose it could hurt."
"Dr. Merar will be here tomorrow to check your wound and see how it's doing. It might pay for you to ask him when you can ride again and when you can go into town and see a trial."
He didn't have the heart to tell her that he didn't think seeing a trial would bring his memory back. She wanted so badly to help. "I'll ask him."
XXXXXXXXX
Early the next morning, Dr. Merar had Jarrod lie down on his bed, and he removed the patch of bandage now covering just the wound. "That's looking good," he said. "Let's remove those stitches."
Jarrod took a deep breath. "If it'll get me back in the saddle faster, by all means, take them out."
"Well, we'll see about the saddle after I take them out."
The doctor got small scissors and tweezers out of his bag. He also pulled out a clean cloth and a small bottle of alcohol. He cleaned the wound, sending a searing intake of breath through his patient.
"Sorry," Dr. Merar said.
"It's all right," Jarrod said.
Dr. Merar folded the cloth, gave it some more alcohol and put it on the night table. Then he disinfected the scissors and tweezers in the alcohol and laid them on the cloth. "All right, here goes," he said and picked up the scissors.
Jarrod stared at the ceiling as the doctor worked. "I want to ask you about something."
"Sure," Dr. Merar said and took the tiny stitches out, bit by bit.
Jarrod felt it, although he couldn't say it actually hurt. "About my amnesia."
"Go ahead, I'm listening."
Jarrod waited a moment until the doctor was finished removing the stitches with the tweezers. Then he asked, "How does it look?"
"Looks good," Dr. Merar said and palpated Jarrod's abdomen around the wound. "How does it feel? Any pain?"
"No, just an itchy feeling where you took out the stitches."
"Itchy is all right. What do you want to ask me about your amnesia?"
Jarrod let out a breath he'd been holding. "My mother wonders if it might help if I go to court and watch a trial. Since I spent so much of my life in court, she thought it might mean more to me than the house here."
"Well, knowing you as I do, she's probably right, but I don't know if it will be of any help in getting your memory to come back," the doctor said, wrapping his instruments in the cloth and putting everything back in his bag. Then he sat up straight and looked his patient in the eye. "It's worth a try, but I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you. It's quite likely you have had damage to the brain, despite what the doctor in Rockville told you. Sometimes that heals, sometimes it doesn't. The brain is a funny thing."
"Is it all right if I sit up now?" Jarrod asked.
"Yes, go ahead, tell me if you have pain."
Jarrod sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "A little sticking feeling, but no real pain."
"Let me check it again." Dr. Merar palpated Jarrod's abdomen again while he was sitting up. "No, feels fine. Just a little residual pain. Ought to go away in a few days."
"So, basically you don't think it will hurt to go watch a trial, but you don't know if it will help," Jarrod said.
"I'll add one caveat to that," Dr. Merar said. "You could find yourself facing some emotional issues if you watch a trial, such as frustration because your memory doesn't return, or if it just starts tickling around the edge of your mind without giving you any real memories. I'd take someone with you, just in case you find yourself twisted up in emotional knots."
Jarrod nodded. "When can I ride?"
"Give it another week, just to be sure, and don't plan on breaking any horses for four to six weeks. You're not ready for that kind of pounding."
Jarrod nodded again. "How much do I owe you?"
Dr. Merar laughed. "You ask me that every time, and every time I just put it on the Barkley bill."
Jarrod laughed at himself. "For some reason, charging things that someone else will pay for has been one of the toughest things for me to get used to."
"Oh, you pay for it all right, Jarrod," Dr. Merar said. "It's just Nick who signs the check."
"Well, as soon as we get to the bank, I'm the one who'll be signing the checks from now on."
"Ah, good," the doctor said. "Work is one of the best medicines there is, even if it is just keeping the books."
Jarrod got up, and he and the doctor walked downstairs together. Victoria and Audra were in the living room, working on some needlework. They both got up and met the men in the foyer.
"How is he doing?" Victoria asked.
"Almost good as new," the doctor said. "He can ride a horse next week, but no breaking any and no heavy work for four to six weeks. I took the stitches out, so you won't be seeing me anymore until somebody around here has another mishap."
They all walked the doctor to the door. Victoria and Jarrod both thanked him, and after closing the door, they all went into the living room.
"I think we can head to the bank next week," Jarrod said.
Victoria and Audra both stopped and looked at him, expectantly.
He smiled. "Yes, we can put that account in my name, and we'll need to put my signature on the ranch accounts so I can pay the bills."
"Oh, Jarrod," Victoria said and hugged him. It meant more to her than she could express, because those two simple acts meant he really was home to stay.
Audra smiled. "Nick will be as happy as a clam when you tell him."
"Shall we tell him tonight, or make him suffer a while longer?" Jarrod asked.
"You're turning into a big brother in a hurry," Victoria smiled.
"I plan to enjoy it, too," Jarrod said.