I own none of the characters of places mentioned in "Big Valley." I love to play with them for free at least. So please read for free too. :)

Nick interrupted Heath's memories to raise his arm to gesture and loudly proclaim. "Just a simple, sweet, innocent little …"

Heath glared and fumed, but Jarrod stepped toward him before he'd reacted to Nick's words. Jarrod interrupted his brother by grinding out his own words, "What my brother is clumsily trying to determine, is when you came to hear …"

Heath cut in knowing the question and answer already. He met Jarrod's gaze. "A month ago."

Nick interrupted Heath's interruption of Jarrod's interruption of him while stuffing his hands in his pockets and nodding. "Oh, yeah, yeah, sure."

Heath noticed Jarrod kept his sharp gaze locked on him. His tone was like sharp, intense, almost like he feared … "What happened a month ago?"

Heath spoke with some of the heat he felt in his belly. "My mother died."

Nick raised his voice while staring at the ceiling. "Confessions from a death bed!"

Now Jarrod had had enough. He turned to yell at his brother, "Nick that will be enough!" Then he looked back to Heath. His tone lowered, but remained serious, questioning. "Well?"

Heath stared at Jarrod. Did he really believe him? Even if he did would it be enough? How would he really react to it? Find a legal loophole or even something bigger and clearer than a loophole to keep him out of things since even though he was his father's son, he was not his mother's, not conceived in marriage. Eh, what did he care if he believed or not? If he did, fine. If not, he'd still have his say.

Heath looked away for this part though, because for the first time he felt ashamed. For all the rest of it, others had done his mama wrong, but he knew, he'd knew he's done her wrong in the end.

Heath took a few steps across the room ... gathering his thoughts. He softened his voice. He was almost telling himself the story now … How his life had changed, how the dearest thing still a part of his life had been ripped from it, how he wronged the person he most loved and admired for all his life, between "serious relationships" at least. Most of those girls and women he'd wished he'd never allowed to take her place as the one most important one to him afterward. Then, she'd been gone leaving more pain and confusion in her wake, leaving him more proud and ashamed and puzzled, than he'd ever been before. "I'd been up on the Klamath."

Good place to hunt plenty to eat with your own hands, and gun, and wits, even do a little trapping to earn some money. Plenty of mountains round about too. He remembered coming down off one after poking around to see if the rock might just be hiding something valuable. Finding a mine of his own too keep himself and the three ladies currently in his life in luxury was one of his dreams. It hadn't come true that day.

He was coming down the mountain being careful he and his rented mule didn't fall, straining his muscles to stay seated, giving his full attention to the matter, sighing in relief when they reached bottom. He'd had no idea what was coming next.

. . .

"They called for me …"

. . .

A man was racing to him, heavy-set, middle aged, wide faced. He'd remembered then the man's smile at him before he went up the mountain, how eager he'd been to sell him supplies, his kindly, affectionate, manners. He'd liked the man during their short acquaintanceship. He'd even left him his name, giving his last as his mama's married name despite her late husband not being …

This man was now yelling the name he'd left with him, running at him while holding aloft a piece of paper. Finally, he arrived at his mule's side out of breath and gazing up at him with wide eyes. In gasps he said, "Your mama!" (Wheeze) "They sent word …" (Wheeze) "Your aunt Rachel and their friend …" (Wheeze)

Heath broke in, "What about my mama?"

He looked up at him and sorrow filled his deep brown eyes. Heath caught his breath. Despite not wanting to hear the words, he kept his own peace until the man said them while holding out the paper to him. Heath could now see the little cluster of other people watching them from a safe distance. Even from there he could see their sympathy. He hung his head before the man even replied. "It's your mama, Mr. Heath! They say she's sick, even …" Here he paused and managed to look even sadder, even sorrier for him, "Even dying …"

What do you think?

God Bless

ScribeofHeroes