Chapter 2

Next came dinner. Victoria was not about to stand for Jarrod feasting on a piece of bread, and Silas had prepared enough food so that he could sit down with the family to eat. What no one had realized, though, was that Jarrod had never tried to eat steak one-handed before. He had always managed to find a way to cut or mangle his meat with just a fork, but just a fork wasn't going to work when the meat wasn't boiled to death or stewed, or dried so you could just bite it off and chew it. There was a moment of complete awkwardness until Jarrod said to Nick, who was sitting beside him, "Uh, Nick – can you stick a fork in it?"

"Hm?" Nick asked.

Jarrod nodded to the steak on his plate. "Stick a fork in it. I can cut it if you can hold it still."

"Oh," Nick said, and obliged.

Jarrod was completely embarrassed, until Eugene giggled. Victoria gave the little guy a big glare, but Jarrod gave a smile. "It does look a little silly, doesn't it?" he said but kept cutting until he had cut it all into bite-sized pieces.

"It worked!" Eugene said.

Jarrod had to laugh as Nick took his fork away. "Any port in a storm," Jarrod said.

"What does that mean?" Eugene asked.

"It means you do what you need to do to get the job done and you take the help when it's there," Tom Barkley said to his youngest. "Now, eat your dinner."

There were no more embarrassing moments at the table. After dinner, Tom, Nick and Jarrod gathered in the library while Victoria took the little ones to bed. More awkwardness followed. Tom was allowing both his sons some celebratory brandy and a cigar, but Jarrod couldn't manage holding a brandy and a cigar at the same time, so he sat down in an armchair next to a little table where he could put his snifter while he puffed away. He tried to deflect the discomfort his father and brother were feeling as they held onto both their drinks and their smokes.

"I haven't had a cigar this good since I went into the army," Jarrod said and admired the cigar he held.

"From the Caribbean," Tom said. "Can't get any tobacco from the South right now. I found somebody who would ship it around the Horn to here, like you came."

"How was that trip, Jarrod?" Nick asked.

"Long and rocky," Jarrod said. "I haven't even gotten my land legs back yet. It still feels wrong to be holding still."

Jarrod knew his family were dancing around the edges of what they really wanted to ask about – are you all right? He was glad they didn't ask, because he didn't know how to answer the question yet. So he went off on his own. "Mother wrote and told me how you two had your heads together and were getting Nick to learn how to run the ranch," Jarrod said. He gave his younger brother a smile. "Fifteen years old, and Mother thinks you could take over tomorrow if you had to. I'm proud of you, Nick."

"So am I," Tom said to his middle son. "Nick's going to make a fine rancher."

"Have you made any plans, Jarrod?" Nick finally got up the nerve to ask.

Jarrod had no idea what to say.

"Hey, come on, he just got home," Tom said. "It's a little soon to be asking about his plans."

Jarrod smiled a little. He knew his father was just as curious about the subject. Jarrod said, "Right now, I'm just planning to finish this cigar and this brandy and then get some sleep. I am bone tired."

"Why don't you ride out to the herd with me tomorrow?" Nick asked. "Calves are starting to come. Cattle had a good winter."

"I think I'll do that, Nick," Jarrod said. "It'll be good to breathe some fresh air that doesn't have salt water in it, or gunpowder."

"I understand those summers back east are brutal," Nick said.

Jarrod whistled. "You're telling me. Put your clothes on at dawn and they're soaking wet before you finish breakfast. They gave us these funny looking beanbags to cool us off. You soak them in water and then put them in your hat. Sounds ridiculous, but they helped. And the winter was cold and wet and gray – " Jarrod shivered. "I'm glad you and Mother came out here before you had me, Father."

They chatted idly about safe subjects for a while, but before long Jarrod finished his cigar and brandy and got up. "Heading for bed?" Tom asked.

"I think so," Jarrod said. "Same old room?"

"Just the way you left it."

Nick finished off the last of his brandy and said, "I'll walk you up and help you get squared away."

"No need, Nick," Jarrod said. "I can handle it."

"I just thought we'd talk a little more," Nick said. "I've missed my big brother."

Jarrod smiled, grabbed Nick around the neck and kissed the top of his head. Nick was still an inch or two shorter than his older brother, and still embarrassed by kisses on the top of the head, but now he laughed. He hadn't realized that he'd missed them.

"See you in the morning, Father," Jarrod said as they left the library.

Victoria was on her way in from the living room. "Calling it a night already?" she asked.

Jarrod put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head, too. "I'm one tired little soldier," Jarrod said.

"Well, good night, then," Victoria said. "And I'm so glad you're home."

"Me, too," Jarrod said and he and Nick went on toward the stairs.

Victoria went into the library to find her husband staring at the fireplace. He turned when he heard her skirt moving. She could see he looked disturbed, sad. "What is it, Tom?" she asked. "Jarrod?"

Tom nodded.

"You haven't had words."

"No, no," Tom said quickly. "It's just – " He couldn't figure out how to say it.

"His arm," Victoria said.

Tom nodded. "It's not just an arm he's lost, Victoria. He's putting up a brave front, but he's lost himself."

"Of course, he has," Victoria said.

"No, you don't understand," Tom said. "Nick asked him what his plans were, and I cut the subject off. I could see there was nothing in Jarrod's eyes, nothing at all, none of that excitement when he went off to school and started studying law. He's lost it all."

Victoria slumped a little. "Well, he is tired, and he's been hurt, and he has to get himself back to some kind of normal. He's been nearly two years at war. We can't expect him to just pick up where he left off, especially – without his arm."

Tom sighed. "I wish I hadn't been so hard on him when he left. Maybe I could be of more help to him now."

Victoria came to her husband and kissed his cheek. "He's only been home for a few hours. Give it some more time. Give him time to get used to being here again. Things have changed, obviously. We're all going to have adjustments to make."

Tom nodded. "You're right, of course. It's just – I hurt so much for him, Torie. And I can't even find the words to say it."

"Neither can I, yet," Victoria said. "But we'll get there."

Upstairs, Nick carried Jarrod's saddlebags into his room and set them down on top of the dresser. Jarrod looked around, saying, "Well, it hasn't changed a bit."

"Silas has been looking after it for you," Nick said. "Do you need help with anything? Putting anything away? Anything like that?"

"No." Jarrod eased his jacket off and put it over the butler. Then he unbuttoned his shirt and took it off.

And there it was – the stump of his left arm. Almost up to his shoulder, very little of an arm left and what was left was mangled at the end and looked unhappy at best. Nick winced. Jarrod noticed, and he was angry. Not angry at Nick's reaction – he'd anticipated that. In fact, that was why he took his shirt off in his younger brother's presence. He wanted Nick to see the stump. He wanted Nick to see what a war wound looked like. He wanted to look at Nick's reaction and get angry at the war, at the world, if not at Nick. And he wanted Nick to see something else.

"This is it, Nick," Jarrod said. "This is the war. This is why if you even remotely think you're going to go, I'm going to stop you. Maybe I only have one arm left, but it'll stop you."