Victoria watched with bated breath at the scene unfolding in front of her. It was happening again, but this time it wasn't her husband, but her sons who were in the line of fire. Her heart trembled in fear as she saw Nick walk to stand defiantly beside Frank Sample, but it was full of pride as well. Tom Barkley may have been a lot of things, but he never backed down from what needed to be done and that spirit and sense of duty had been passed on to his sons.
She noticed movement out of the corner of her eye and turned just in time to see Heath pull his horse's head around and gallop away. You did that boy a great injustice, Tom, she thought, he should have grown up with his brothers and sister. She didn't know much about the young man, only what she could discern from the gentle nature she sensed and the reports of his hard work from the foreman and other ranch hands. She wondered about that unknown woman, not as the one whom her husband had betrayed her with, but as the mother of a young boy, shaping him into a man by herself and how hard it must have been for her.
Victoria turned her attention back. She saw the indecision on Jarrod's face and her heart went out to her eldest child. You did your other son a great injustice too, she thought bitterly. She knew how much he had anguished about his choice six years ago to continue his defence of a young man wrongly accused of rustling and murder instead of taking up the legal aspects of the fight against the railroad. He'd never actually talked to her about it, but she knew that Jarrod carried around a degree of guilt over his father's death and hoped the decision he made now was one he could live with. She caught his gaze, biting back a tear when she saw the regret on his face as he strode over to stand beside his brother, and prayed she wouldn't be burying one or both of them beside their father tomorrow.
"Take me home, Cody," she said softly to the ranch hand who had driven her over.
On the drive back, worry for her sons' safety fought with thoughts of the young man she knew in her soul was her husband's son. She'd over heard the argument in the study and realized what it was about Heath Thomson that seemed so familiar. She thought back to that time twenty-five years ago.
She'd had another miscarriage, the second in three years. Tom was frequently absent from home, working out on the range with the herd, on trips to buy and sell their cattle and on expeditions to expand the family's other business interests. With the house to take care of and two rambunctious boys to look after, Victoria hadn't been able to rest like the doctor recommended when she found out she was pregnant. The second time, she'd lashed out at Tom and blamed him for losing another child. Tom had been quick to anger as well, telling her if the sacrifices he made for the family weren't appreciated, then he'd just go elsewhere.
They didn't hear from him for over a month and when Tom finally returned home, it was with the purchase of a silver mine up the Stanislaus, hat in hand, professing how much he missed them all.
But Victoria knew. She took Tom back; how could she not, with two small boys to consider and loving him the way she did, even though she hated him as well. She knew because of the well-mended shirts, the embroidered handkerchiefs that still smelled faintly of a rose perfume and the slightly absent look he'd get in his eyes whenever business with the mine came up. She finally confronted him about it, almost six months later, and Tom had the decency to confess to loving another woman. He swore he'd given her up when he realized all he'd left behind. Tom sold the mine to prove himself and that sale resulted in an enormous profit and the start of the Barkley wealth. Victoria turned a blind eye to Tom's other indiscretions, telling herself that a man had needs a woman couldn't understand, but deep down she knew it was just a pathetic attempt to console herself. She did almost leave Tom when he wouldn't try to mend his fences with Jarrod, but she still had Audra to think about and besides, a woman of her position just didn't leave her husband.
But she knew Heath Thomson was Tom Barkley's son. Her husband had impregnated another woman and as far as she could tell, abandoned that woman with no means of support, no acknowledgement of the son she'd borne him. Victoria knew the scorn and derision which unwed mothers and their offspring were subjected to and she was saddened to think of that soft-spoken young man enduring the taunts and insults she'd heard directed towards fatherless children from time to time.
As much as it would hurt to have a constant reminder of her husband's betrayals, she came to one inescapable conclusion. Heath was no less a Barkley than Jarrod, Nick or Audra, and Victoria believed he had as much right to that heritage as her own children. She could never take the sins of the father out on the son and prayed that when she talked to the rest of her family, they would agree.
Thanking Cody as he handed her out of the carriage, Victoria walked across the porch and slowly opened the front door, still deep in thought. She stopped, staring, as she saw the object of those thoughts standing at the entrance to the parlour, filling his hat with the apples that were always kept on the small table there. He glanced up and saw her before he turned back to his task without acknowledging her presence. Quickly striding to the door, Heath paused when he reached her and Victoria saw his father in those sky blue eyes.
She spoke up as he brushed past her to leave. "He was an imperfect man, my husband... and in so many ways that could hurt." Not looking, Victoria sensed that Heath had turned to pay attention to her words. This son of her husband's had never known his father like her other boys and in spite of his faults, Tom Barkley had helped shape those boys into men she was proud of and she wanted to give Heath a sense of why Tom was so respected by the people of the Valley. She pushed away all the hurt, all the wrongs he'd done to her, to Jarrod, to Heath and his mother, and concentrated on the good that was in Tom, the man who'd shaped Nick into a strong rancher and leader; the man who, in spite of his lack of support and understanding, had made his eldest into a man to contend with.
"But he never destroyed, only built and gave life. For he knew that what he brought was a changing way, a revolution of its own that said, 'You are a free man. No one, not railroad, nor Jordan, nor Thomas Barkley, can own you.' And he knew it was something you won only with courage, pride and leadership. That's what he tried to instil in his sons." She wished Tom had remembered those words in his dealings with his oldest child. No one would ever own the man Jarrod had become, not even his father. She looked up at Heath, wanting desperately to see the courage, pride and leadership that was so strong in Jarrod and Nick in this unacknowledged son of her husband's. There was a hint in those blue eyes, something lurking behind the impassive expression. "If you hadn't ridden away tonight, you would have seen that he accomplished it. It's not a battle that can be won in a day, a year, or even ten. And then, one day, he made a terrible, wretched mistake. He died, before anyone really understood."
Victoria had to pause, pushed down the tears that threatened as she thought of the other mistakes that Tom had made and stared straight into those blue eyes, speaking to Jarrod as well as to Heath. "And so, if you were my son, I would say to you, 'Be proud', because any son of my husband has a right to be proud. Live as he would live, fight as he would fight, and no one… no one can deny you his birthright." In Heath's eyes, Victoria saw echoes of Tom and of Jarrod, even of Nick and Audra. She suddenly wanted to reach out to him, to embrace him as she did her own children and try to erase some of the pain and doubt she sensed. "That's what I would say to you... if you were my son."
The moment seemed frozen in time as Heath looked at her, and Victoria finally had to look away, listening as he left and shut the door, hearing the hoofbeats as he galloped his horse out the gate. She thought of her husband's unacknowledged son and of the son he'd done his best to drive away. "You may have failed them, Tom," she whispered, "but they're not going to fail you. None of your sons have ever failed you."
.
Heath rode away from the mansion, mulling over the words spoken to him by his father's wife.
Any son of my husband has a right to be proud. Live as he would live, fight as he would fight, and no one… no one can deny you his birthright.
He'd told his brothers that he wanted that birthright, and now it was seemingly being offered to him, he just had to decide if he was going to take it. He reckoned Jarrod accepted him and from what Mrs. Barkley said, she did as well. It wouldn't be easy to be accepted as a Barkley along with Tom's right-born sons, but then again, when had anything in his life ever been easy?
Then he saw the man in the distance, walking along the trail with the sorrel gelding following behind. He nudged his black cowpony into a fast walk and soon caught up.
"Where you heading?"
The blue eyes of his brother looked up at him and Heath saw him try to conceal the flash of guilt. It seemed it wasn't easy to be an acknowledged son of Tom Barkley, either. "Nowhere in particular. You?"
"Nowhere in particular," Heath answered back. He travelled silently alongside the man he was proud to call brother. Jarrod didn't speak again right away, but Heath knew how to be patient.
"I killed him, you know," the dark-haired man said after a moment. "Our father. If I'd have been paying attention to what the railroad was doing six years ago, I might have been able to stop it without a fight. If I'd gone with him, maybe I could have saved him, or at least died in his place." The last words came out in a choked sob.
"And what about men who were killed in the war 'cause my bullet missed and the enemy got off another shot?" Heath asked. "We ain't responsible for what others do. We're only responsible to God and our own consciences. From all I've heard and seen, you're a good man, Jarrod, and one I'm proud to call my brother."
"I'm sorry for what happened tonight," Jarrod told him after another long moment. "I knew my father well enough that finding out he'd sired another son wasn't really a surprise." He caught Heath's eyes with his. "Nick was wrong to try and buy you off."
Heath gave him a lopsided smile. "Reckon my attitude didn't help none."
"You're welcome to come back to the house," Jarrod invited. "I don't know what we'll do about Nick and I don't know how I'll tell Mother, but…"
"Your mother already knows," Heath broke in softly. "But I reckon I'm gonna head to town for the night. Got a few things to think over."
Jarrod nodded. "If you ever need anything, I want you to know that you can always ask."
"Goes both ways, big brother," he said with a grin before wheeling his horse around and galloping off to town, leaving Jarrod to make his own way back to the ranch.
Jarrod held out a faint hope that Harry could talk some sense into the railroad's hired guns, but it was just that, a faint and distant hope. Even though he knew it would likely prove futile, he retrieved his papers from his room and took them down to the study to finish the injunction he knew would never be filed. He pushed away everything else, thoughts of the fight about to come, thoughts of what the existence of Heath Thomson was doing to his mother, thoughts of what happened six years ago and was concentrating so hard he didn't even realize Nick had entered the room until a full glass of scotch was placed in front of him.
Jarrod looked up. "What was that, Nick?"
Nick took a drink and perched on the edge of the desk. "So, what now?"
Shrugging defeatedly, Jarrod said, "I don't know, Nick. I've got the paperwork ready to file in the morning, but yours and Father's way seems to be the only one that has any results." He sighed. "I just feel so useless."
"Jarrod, no matter which way it goes tomorrow, you're the only one who can keep this from happening again for good," Nick told him firmly. "There's always gonna be greed, more guns and more money to hire them. This has got to be stopped once and for all. The only way to do that is through the law and you're the best damned lawyer I know."
Jarrod smiled a little. "I suppose since the governor vetoed my bill, I can try to take our case to Washington. The bill passed on the floor here, so it should there. And Grant has a reputation for upholding civil rights. We might be able to finally stop Jordan; that is, assuming any of us make it out of tomorrow alive."
"Well, I'll hold down the fort while you charm the movers and shakers in the capitol." Nick took a swallow of his whiskey. "What do you want to do about Thomson? If Mother finds out…"
Jarrod leaned back in his chair and looked Nick in the eye. "I think Mother already knows."
That statement made Nick drain his glass in one gulp. "You really believe that story of his, don't you?"
"Yes," Jarrod said simply. "And so do you, unless you actually believe our father was a saint."
Nick looked down into his empty glass. "Reckon I just don't want to admit I know he wasn't," he replied softly.
Jarrod got up from the desk and put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Nick."
"You got nothing to be sorry for, Pappy," Nick assured him. "You've never done anything to disappoint me and that's a fact." He put the glass on the desk. "I should head up, too. Don't you stay up too late. You need your rest for tomorrow." Nick started to leave and then turned back to give Jarrod a fierce hug. "I'll have your back. Don't know what I'd do if a bullet found you."
Jarrod returned the embrace. "And I'll have yours," he echoed.
Nick gave Jarrod a clap on the back and left as Jarrod sat back behind the desk. He read over the injunction again before leaning back to ponder Nick's words and Heath's. It did seem as though the only person who thought he had any degree of guilt for their father's death was himself, but he wasn't sure if that made it any less true.
This time he heard the soft footfalls as someone came into the study and he smiled up at his mother. He noted that her answering smile didn't reach her eyes and saw the obvious worry etched across her face. Jarrod got up, went over and enfolded her in a comforting hug.
At length, the anxiety and worry overwhelmed her and she began to shake, her breath coming in great, heaving sobs.
Jarrod held her close while she cried on his shoulder, rubbing her back and offering words of comfort. "It's okay, Mother, we'll be okay. You'll see."
The tears exhausted themselves a few minutes later and Jarrod pulled out a handkerchief to dry her eyes, his suspiciously bright as well.
"I'm sorry, Jarrod," Victoria said apologetically.
"No need, lovely lady." Jarrod placed a small kiss on her forehead. "You've soothed enough of my tears in the past, it's only right that I return the favour." He guided her to the settee and sat her down before taking his own seat beside her. "I can't promise you anything other than that I'll do my best to see Nick comes home safely."
Victoria put her hand on his arm. "Just like I know he'll do the same for you and that you'll both watch Heath's back as well."
Jarrod wasn't sure what to say for a moment, then finally asked, "When did you know?"
Victoria gazed at the portrait of Tom above the fireplace. "I suppose I suspected not long after he came to the ranch," she said. "There was just something about him that I couldn't put my finger on and then, when I overheard the three of you tonight…"
Jarrod looked up abruptly, guilt on his face. "I didn't want you to hear…"
Victoria placed her hand over his. "It's all right, sweetheart." She took a deep breath as Jarrod held her hand. "I knew about your father's roving eye, his… indiscretions. He told me about his affair in Strawberry, with the woman who must have been Heath's mother."
"I'm sorry, Mother."
Victoria smiled, holding his eyes with hers. "You of all people have nothing to be sorry for, Jarrod."
Jarrod tried to return the smile, but the guilt remained on his face. "If I'd have done what Father wanted, he might still be alive and the confrontation tomorrow might not be happening," he said softly.
"Never think that, Jarrod," his mother admonished him sternly. "You followed your convictions and your father should have admired you for that. Even though he was a stubborn, hardheaded man who sometimes went about it in the wrong way, he only wanted the best for his family. A value he instilled in all his sons." She gripped his hand more tightly. "I'm sorry I haven't told you more often how proud I am that you're my son."
Victoria saw the guilt slowly leave Jarrod's face. "And I've always been proud to be your son," he told her. There was another moment of silence before Jarrod spoke again. "What are you going to do about Heath?"
"I think that will be up to him," she said softly. There was no doubt in her voice as she added, "When he comes back to stand beside his brothers tomorrow."
Jarrod nodded. "How do you feel, Mother, about all this? I mean, Heath is Father's son, my brother, but he's not yours. If it's too hard…" He trailed off, not knowing how to continue.
"It will be hard," Victoria admitted, "but I certainly bear no ill will towards that young man. I want him to stay, for you to get to know each other and for him to feel like a part of his family. I never want to take him away from his own mother, but…"
"His mother passed away a few months ago," Jarrod interjected softly.
Victoria's heart went out to the quiet young man. "Then he has no one."
"No, Mother," Jarrod corrected. "You were right before. He does have a family, right here with us."
"And he always will," Victoria concurred, acceptance written irrevocably in her determined grey eyes. "Just like you always have, no matter what happens."
Jarrod nodded and Victoria embraced him again before looking him in the eyes. "Now you need to get some sleep before tomorrow," she ordered sternly. "You may be over thirty, but I'm still your mother."
"I hear and obey, lovely lady," Jarrod said with a chuckle, his heart lighter as he took her arm and they headed towards the stairs.
