Once Jarrod closed the doors, Mother walked into the billiards room, which along with the rest of the hotel, had seen better days. Her perfectly tailored riding habit was a rich navy blue, trimmed in golden silk. She ran a finger along the only billiards table in the room, painting a streak of dark mahogany on the dusty trim. This was not the place for her to learn the truth about her husband, but what choice did he leave them? Jarrod found he could not speak.
"We've done wrong by you, Jarrod," she said quietly. "You deserve better than this."
He sensed by the trembling timbre of her voice that she was crying, though she did not face him. "What are you talking about, Mother?" he asked. "You haven't done anything wrong."
"If your father and I could have talked. If we had listened to each other we wouldn't be in this dusty, despicable town. Nick would not be so combative, and you...you wouldn't feel the burden of trying to save us all. I'm sorry for that." She pulled a kerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes.
Jarrod's heart broke for her. "Mother, please," he said as he straightened a velvet padded chair. "Sit down." Seeing how dusty the table was, he began to swipe at the seat so her habit would not be soiled by this place. The more he dusted the more dust clouded the air. He sneezed and he heard his mother laugh.
"Oh, Jarrod," she said. "Thank you, but if I've learned anything from living with your father, I've learned that I will have to deal with a mess from time to time. There's simply no way to avoid it." She took the musty seat with no complaint.
Jarrod pulled up a chair so that he could sit and face her. When he sat, he found again that he did not have the words to begin, so he opted for an apology. "I'm sorry," he said. "I have been childish. I didn't realize it until you said so and you were right. I feel the guilt of everyone on my shoulders. Somehow, I take them as my own. This time, I just couldn't handle the burden of it, so I chose to avoid the truth."
She stopped crying and held out her hand to him. "We're both suffering, Jarrod. We know avoidance is not the answer. Please begin from a logical point. I will listen. I can't possibly fault you for something your father has done."
Taking her hand, he sighed. "I guess the best place to start would be with the real reason Nick fought Bill Tennant at the ranch and fired him." He hesitated, how he hated to be the one to tell her of her husband's bastard son. He shook his head, muttering a curse to himself and then looked again at the woman who stood by her family through the years and never once wavered in her devotion to her husband. "Mother," he whispered. "It all began with a rumor..."
"I still think you shoulda whupped 'em," Heath remarked as he and Tom walked a wooded path toward the churchyard. Morning had pushed into afternoon and Tom was anxious to get back to town. Heath went on. "Just because their family is sick doesn't mean they can run all over and destroy other people's property."
Tom was of the same mind, but he'd seen the Brighton's house. The dilapidated condition of it shocked him, and when the father came to the door thin and wasted but recovering from his illness, Tom did not have the heart to "whup" on that man's two boys. He did give them a stern lecture and got them to hand over most of the money he had given them as a tip at the ferry. It seemed punishment enough.
"And I think," Heath continued, "you shoulda taken their daddy up on having them fix up that damage they did to Hannah's cabin."
"We've been over this Heath," Tom replied. "I don't want them near Hannah's place. They have a clear understanding that if they ever come near her again, they will have to answer to me and the next time they know, and I think you know, I will whup their asses."
Heath snorted with a laugh. "I'll invite them over then."
"No, you won't or I'll add you to that list."
Heath nearly doubled over with laughter.
"I'm glad you find that humorous."
"I was just thinking about the looks on their faces when they saw you," Heath said. "I've never seen 'em so scared."
"They knew they did wrong," Tom sighed. "They'll end up in jail sooner or later at the rate they're going, and it won't do them a lick of good. It'll just keep them out of everyone else's way."
The graveyard came into view through the trees and they stopped at the picket fence. "Would you like to go in first, Heath?"
"You can go ahead," Heath replied. "I want to think about what to tell her before I go in. A lot has happened."
"Alright. I won't take long."
"Take as long as you need. Sins take a lot of time to air."
Tom let out a laugh, but cut it short in respect for the dead. "You don't mind getting to the point, do you?"
"I find life is easier if you lay it all out in front."
The gate opened with a small creak, and Tom stepped in. Leah's marker, the one that had been painstakingly carved by hand from a single piece of wood, stood there alone among the rest as if it expected him. It seemed to wait for an answer, some kind of sign that yes, Tom Barkley would step up and accept responsibility for his actions, that he would take responsibility for Leah's beloved son...for his son.
He knelt beside her lonely grave and the dead grass along the fencing seemed to whisper her name on the wind.
He had not many words, just thoughts mostly. Silent prayers he was certain she could hear. Prayers for her soul, for her peace, for her forgiveness. How he longed for that, but he would never receive it, not unless he saw her again on the other side.
"I promise I'll take care of your boy, Leah," Tom said. He could feel the caress of the wind on his face and remembered her touch. "No matter what. I'll make sure he has everything he needs. Even a family if I can have my way." Those last words tasted bitter. He had no way of knowing if Victoria would accept Heath into the family or even her own husband for that matter. Mistakes like this leveled their own punishment and sometimes cruelly. But it was a cruel mistake, especially for his wife. What had he done?
He plucked a wildflower from the grave, a delicate daisy with a purple hue in its petals. Tucking it in his vest pocket to remind him of his promise, he stood. He glanced back at Heath, who remained outside the gate at Tom's request. The boy watched his father, studying him. Perhaps he hoped to see a vestige of emotion that would connect his parents to one another even across the chasm of death. Tom did feel a connection to Leah, though he could not love her anymore as she deserved. He could not mourn her completely and for that he was deeply sorry.
Tom walked to the gate and allowed Heath to pass through for his own quiet time at her grave. He would be leaving her behind if all went as planned. He would be leaving his past here in Strawberry. He was a strong boy and would grow into a fine young man. He had it in him already. He wondered if Victoria would give the boy a chance. He couldn't blame her if she refused to even see Heath.
He shook his head. He had been reckless. He had taken his family for granted and now he would have to pay. "Tom Barkley, you're a fool."
Tom and Heath parted ways at the cemetery. Heath would go back to spend the day with Hannah and prepare to leave, Tom would go back to Strawberry and he too would get ready to leave in the morning. He still didn't know how he would break the news to Victoria, but having Heath with him...it suddenly seemed very wrong. He hadn't thought everything through yet. For him to boldly return to the ranch with a bastard son at his side demanding that he live there with them...Victoria wouldn't stand for it. She would barricade the doors. Hell most of the hands would stand against him too. The one thing he felt right about was how his relationship with Heath had turned. His son had actually laughed in his presence. He had let go some of that hatred. Perhaps his luck would hold with the rest of the family. He spent the rest of his walk thinking on this problem.
The streets were deserted when he arrived in Strawberry. Usually there would be one or two folks lingering about, but somehow the town had been cleared. It didn't feel right. As he approached the hotel, he saw something in the dirt. He picked it up. A cue ball, lying in a field of shattered glass. He looked up at the hotel. Someone had thrown it through the closed window. All was quiet now, but a fight had broken out inside. Nick and Jarrod? What could have caused them to fight?
He stepped up to the porch and placed a hand on the door. He paused a moment before entering, hoping to at least hear something beforehand. He heard not a sound. He turned the knob and pulled. He blinked the sun from his eyes and adjusted to the darkness inside. There before him was a hideous tableau. His family stared at him. Nick with two black eyes. Audra, her face red from crying, Gene, standing in ghostly silence, Jarrod's eyes blazing hatred and in the middle of them all stood Victoria.
He was shocked, stunned, speechless..."Victoria."
"Oh Tom!" Victoria cried. Her hands flew to her face and she wept.
Jarrod went to her. "Mother," he whispered as he embraced her. He suddenly wanted to take all of her pain into himself. He wanted to tear her away from Strawberry and his father forever.
"Victoria," Father said. "Listen to me." His voice was quite clear, more demanding than apologetic to Jarrod's ears.
Father stepped forward with one hand out to her, it wasn't much of a gesture, but it was enough. Jarrod released his mother and whirled on his father. "You bastard!" Before he knew it, his fist had planted itself into Father's jaw. Audra's scream pierced the air. The shockwave went through Jarrod's knuckles and up his arm, but it felt right. It felt decent. He'd knocked Father to the floor. "Do not touch my mother!" he demanded.
Nick was off the couch, trying to calm his brother. "Jarrod! Jarrod," he said as he got in front of him. "Put the pistols down, you got him. Understand? Once is enough."
Jarrod looked into Nick's eyes, but for a moment didn't see. All he knew was he wanted to end it all. But Audra's crying broke through. He looked to the couch where she had drawn up her knees and covered her face as she sobbed. Gene had backed away. He seemed afraid of everyone in the room.
Jarrod looked back at Nick. "Alright," he said, and he even noticed Mother had gone to Father to help him. "Alright, Nick. Once is enough..." he spoke louder. "Unless Father disagrees."
Father held his jaw and said, "It's enough."
"Now sit down," Nick said firmly.
"I'll stand."
"No standing, Jarrod," Nick insisted. "Or we'll have another problem."
"Sit down, both of you," Mother said.
Her sons looked at her. The tears in her eyes convinced them and they both took their seats.
Tom got to his feet with a little help from his wife.
"Your father and I need to talk," she said, holding onto his arm. She looked pointedly at Jarrod. "Privately." She turned to her husband. "Can you manage the stairs?"
"I can manage the stairs!" Father replied angrily.
Jarrod watched him carefully, trying to judge his mood. Was the anger just humiliation at being floored, or was it something else? He was uncertain and didn't want his mother alone with him. "We'll be here for you, Mother," Jarrod stated, but all the while, his gaze was for Tom Barkley.
"I will be fine, thank you Jarrod," she replied.
They ascended the staircase slowly toward Father's room. Jarrod imagined the Billiards room was too dangerous for his father. Too many billiard balls. He groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. His hand still throbbed from the incident and two of his fingers were numb. Audra's soft sobs filled the room with despair. Jarrod looked up. Nick was holding her again, but she was still curled up tightly. Jarrod had injured her further when he hit Father. He could see that. Gene was slowly edging back into the room to be with them.
"I'm sorry Audra," he said, and he meant it. "I'm sorry, Gene." He rubbed his face and wondered what in hell would happen to all of them. "I'm so sorry for everything."
"To state the obvious," Nick said. "Boy howdy, have the Barkley's hit bottom."