Author's Note: This if my first Big Valley story. Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: The Big Valley and the Barkley family don't belong to me.

Victoria Barkley opened the front door, stepped onto the verandah, and sighed with relief at the sight that met her eyes. Her sons, her eldest three, were trudging up the path from the barn. Nick was in the lead, then Heath, and behind him, Jarrod. Victoria drew in a sharp breath. Even from a distance she could see he wasn't in good shape. He'd been injured, a tattered bandage looped around his head. His clothes were rumpled and dirty; the coat seemed to swallow him as if, somehow, he'd grown smaller in the past five days. As they drew closer, she could see the dust and beard stubble that shadowed his cheeks, the lines of exhaustion that etched his face.

At the edge of the verandah, Jarrod stumbled. Victoria instinctively reached out a hand as if to catch him from a distance, but Heath was there and he kept him from falling. "Just lean on me," she heard Heath say, his voice low and soothing. "We're home now." Jarrod's body sagged against his brother's arm, and Victoria could see that Heath was now supporting almost all of his weight. Jarrod's head bent forward, his eyes seemingly focused on his feet as if he were making sure he placed them correctly, avoiding another possible fall.

Suddenly, Victoria's mind registered the familiar jingle of Nick's spurs on the stone verandah, and she looked up to find him next to her. He touched her arm, and, bending over to kiss her cheek, he whispered in her ear. "He's gonna be all right, Mother. He just needs a lot of rest."

She pressed the palm of her hand to Nick's cheek, appreciating his words of comfort, but knowing by the look in his hazel eyes that even he wasn't convinced by his own words. He managed a smile, knowing that she could read his doubts. "He's home," he murmured, hoping that would be enough, knowing it was really all he could give her. And with a gentle kiss to his cheek, she accepted the gift. "Thank you, Nick, for bringing him home."

Victoria allowed Nick to steer her back into the foyer as Heath brought Jarrod through the door. Her oldest son's head was still bent, fresh blood staining the bandage. When she reached out to touch his arm, he looked up for a moment before quickly turning away. But it was enough. In that moment, she saw that his piercing blue eyes, normally bright and alive, were dull; shame and guilt were written plainly in their depths. And he couldn't look at her. Pulling away from Heath, Jarrod stepped toward the stairs, and, this time when he stumbled, he went down hard on one knee. Victoria reached for him, but Nick held her back, allowing Heath to help him from the floor.

"Come on, Brother. Let's get you upstairs. I'll help you clean up and get in bed. A little rest and you'll be just fine." Heath's words were strong and encouraging, and Victoria watched as Jarrod leaned into him again, willing to share his brother's strength in the absence of his own.

The two men climbed the stairs slowly, and when they had finally reached the top and disappeared into the hallway, Victoria looked up at Nick. His arm was still around her shoulders. "Let Heath get him in bed, and then we'll go up."

Victoria drew in a deep breath. "What happened to his head?"

"The sheriff in Rimfire said Hyatt grazed him with a thirty-thirty, but the doc says he should be just fine in a couple of days. Heath and I wanted to stay until the end of the week, but Jarrod insisted we bring him home. In fact, that's about all he's said to either one of us. Just take him home."

Victoria relaxed slightly, thankful that her eldest had the good sense to know that he could always come home. There was more that Nick wasn't telling her; she could see it in his eyes. But there would be time for that later. Now she wanted to take care of Jarrod, let him know that he was safe. "It looks like his head started bleeding again."

Nick nodded. "Some. He wouldn't let either of us look at it - kept pushing us away whenever we stopped to rest or water the horses."

"I think we'd better send for Howard."

"I've already sent Ciego in to town for him."

"Good." Victoria patted Nick's shoulder. "I'll get some liniment and fresh bandages. And I'll start some soup. Has he eaten anything?"

Nick shook his head. "He's had some water, but he lost that. He's having trouble keeping anything down."

"And how about you and Heath? Have you eaten?"

Nick smiled. "We're fine, Mother. You don't have to worry about us."

She returned his smile. "That's where you're wrong, Nick. Worrying about her children is part of a mother's job."

Nick squeezed her close to him. "Then remind me to raise your salary, Mrs. Barkley."

~vVv~

Twenty minutes later, Victoria walked into the open door of Jarrod's room. She was carrying a tray with a bowl of soup, a glass of water, bandages, and liniment. She placed the tray on top of a chest of drawers and turned her attention toward her sons. Jarrod sat on the edge of the bed, and Heath knelt in front of him. He'd undressed his older brother; Victoria could see the tan jacket folded across the back of a chair, and Jarrod's boots, trousers, shirt, and long-sleeved undershirt tangled on the floor. He was only wearing his knee-length undershorts, but Victoria saw that Heath had a clean nightshirt draped across the end of the bed, ready to put on him once he finished washing him. She watched as Heath ran a wet washcloth over Jarrod's face, down his shoulders, and across his chest. It wasn't as cleansing as a bath, but Jarrod seemed to relax at the touch of the warm cloth on his skin.

"A good night's sleep, then you can take a real bath in the morning," Heath said, dipping the cloth in a basin on the nightstand, wringing it, and returning it to Jarrod's neck and shoulders. "I think you're so tired right now, you'd fall asleep in a tub of hot water."

Jarrod didn't respond, but he didn't resist his brother's help. He seemed to stare straight ahead, but he didn't seem focused on Heath. Victoria felt that her eldest son was very far away from them and, despite Heath's care and the warmth of his words and touch, Jarrod wasn't altogether aware of his younger brother. Or his mother, for that matter. He hadn't looked up when she entered the room, nor did he seem to notice when she stepped closer. She placed a hand on Heath's shoulder.

"I brought Jarrod some soup, and I fixed something for you and Nick. He's down in the kitchen right now. I insisted he eat. I want you to eat, too."

Heath looked up, and Victoria could see the love and concern in his blue eyes. "Sounds good, Mother. Just let me get this nightshirt on Jarrod, and then he can eat and get some sleep." He picked up the crisp white nightshirt and carefully pulled it over his brother's head. "That's all he needs," he assured as he settled the material over Jarrod's shoulders and buttoned the first few buttons. "Just a good night's sleep and you'll be just fine." He allowed his hand to smooth Jarrod's hair into place, his fingers lingering for a moment on the back of his neck. "Ready to get in bed?"

Jarrod nodded, almost imperceptibly, but Heath took it as a positive sign and helped his brother stand long enough to pull the covers back, and then he eased Jarrod down on the bed. He arranged the pillows behind his back so that he was sitting up a little bit. "There. Now don't you give Mother any trouble. That soup sure does smell good. You try to eat some of it. I'll be back in a little while." He leaned over and placed a kiss on Jarrod's forehead. "I love you, Brother," he murmured before straightening and leaving the room.

Victoria quickly blinked the tears from her eyes, proud of her son's ability to show his feelings for his brother. She brushed her hand over Heath's shoulder as he passed her. "Thank you, Heath," she whispered. "I'll call if I need help."

Heath smiled, taking hold of her hand and squeezing it. And then he was gone, and Victoria was alone with her eldest, her first born son. She realized he needed her almost as much now as he had then, thirty-four years ago. She glanced back at the bed, not surprised to see that he had looked away from her; he was staring across the room, eyes unfocused.

"Well now, I think I'd better see to that wound on your forehead. Nick says that the doctor in Rimfire took a look at you. And you probably should have stayed there until the end of the week. But I know you. Nick says you were set on getting home, regardless of the doctor's orders." She picked up the bandages and liniment from the tray and stepped over to the bed. Gently, she settled on the edge beside him. She didn't try to turn his face toward her, but she carefully began to remove the tattered bandage. Jarrod flinched slightly when the cloth pulled away from the cut. "This is quite a crease, Jarrod. It looks like the doctor took at least five or six stitches, and you've managed to pull a few of them loose. Ciego rode into town to get Howard. He may want to restitch this, but for now I'm just going to clean it and put a fresh bandage on it."

She reached over and took the washcloth that Heath had left in the basin on the nightstand. Reaching down, she took hold of Jarrod's hand with her left hand, and, with her right, she gently touched the cloth to the wound. She felt Jarrod's hand grip her hand tightly as he drew in a sharp breath. She leaned closer and blew on the cut, just as she had when he'd been a small boy with a scraped knee. She wasn't sure if it really helped, but she did feel his grasp ease somewhat. She dabbed at it again, blew again, and then pulled the cloth away. "I think I'll hold off on the liniment. Howard may want to use something else on it." She could see Jarrod visibly relax at her words. Godfrey's liniment stung like the devil, as Nick was fond of saying. "I'll just wrap a clean bandage around it. Then we'll see about getting some soup into you. Nick says you're not having much luck keeping food down. Maybe being home will help," she suggested as she carefully wound a piece of bandage around his head. When she was done, she tucked in the end and leaned over and kissed Jarrod's cheek. "I'm glad you're home, son. You're going to be all right."

And that's when he finally looked at her. And he knew that she knew. And she did know. Nick had told her in the kitchen while she'd heated the soup on the stove. He'd told her how they'd found him, drowning the life out of Cass Hyatt. How he'd drawn his gun on Nick. And then how the fight had gone out of him, how he'd walked away, a defeated man. And it was all there in his eyes now: the shame and guilt, the overwhelming embarrassment of knowing that she knew. Of letting his mother down. Of lowering himself to such depths. And his breath caught in his throat. And the tears he'd been holding in for days spilled forth. "Mother..." he gasped. "Oh, Mother..."

Victoria pulled him to her, her hand pressing his dark head to her shoulder, rocking him gently as she had so long ago. As she'd wanted to the day Beth had died. But he hadn't let her touch him then. He'd pushed them all away. But not now. Now, he let her hold him while he cried.

~The End~