Journal Entry 2

I read what I wrote last night and it came out all wrong. It sounds like I'm jealous of Jarrod, but I'm not. Jarrod is a great brother, the best brother anyone could have. When I was a kid, he was around much more than Papa ever was. He's the one who taught me how to swim, and ride a horse. Jarrod was the first one to show me how to rope, and long before Father ever let me try my hand at shooting, Jarrod would take me out to the quietest place we could find and let me practice with his rifle. He taught me how to write my name. He showed me how to tie my shoes. He taught me right from wrong. You know that voice that everyone has in their head that tells you when you're being stupid, or wrong or behaving badly? The voice in my head sounds just like Jarrod.

I'm proud of him. He's smart, and successful and charming and so DAMN PERFECT! God, sometimes it's like having Jesus for a brother; by comparison you'll always look like the Anti-Christ.

Oh hell, I'm not being fair. That's just Jarrod, he's popular and brilliant and I'm...his little brother. I heard it from Mr Roland when I started school: "Oh, you're Jarrod Barkley's little brother." I heard it every time I met an adult: "Of course! You're Jarrod Barkley's little brother." I heard it the first time I went to San Francisco when a stranger walked up to me on the street and said "I saw your picture in Jarrod Barkley's office. You must be his little brother." I bet I could cross the continent, catch a slow boat to Africa, hike out to the deepest, darkest, most remote spot in the world, come across some tribe that no one has ever heard of before and one of the natives would ask: "Aren't you Jarrod Barkley's little brother?"

Sometimes I think if I hear that foul phrase from one more person, I'm going to gouge my ears off with a spoon.

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"Hmm." Nick was teaching Doc Marten how to flip playing cards into a hat and the Doc was concentrating intently on his next card. It didn't change a thing, The card flew to the side of the hat and landed in the dust. "So you feel like you're always in Jarrod's shadow, is that it?"

"Loosen your wrist." Nick advised. "And no." He demonstrated the proper technique for the Doc again, then watched critically as another card missed completely. "Well, yeah. I mean, not when I'm out on the ranch and I'm working with the boys, or we're on a round up or a trail ride. But then someone will tell me I should try to be more like my brother, and it's like...I don't know...being back in school with the Mr Roland telling me I'm a disgrace to the family and Jarrod never gave him that kind of trouble." He flipped a card perfectly into the middle of the hat. "Then that night you came over for the first time, I remember looking into the mirror and I saw…" He trailed off.

"What?" Nick didn't notice that he had Doc Marten's full attention.

"I chase cows around in a circle." He burst out. "I can be a bully and a blowhard. I use my last name like a shield….like everyone is supposed to respect me just because my name is Barkley. I do things without thinking or planning and I get mad and blow up and say or do something stupid. I miscounted some wine barrels once and accused a gypsy of stealing it and broke his ribs. I remember Jarrod looking at me like I was something he stepped in, you know? I ….think I embarrass my family sometimes. I think my teacher Mr Roland was right. I think I'm kinda Dumb. " Miserably Nick flipped another card at the hat and missed by a mile.

Doc Marten thought for a few minutes. "Alright. Sounds like a hard man to live with. Did you see any good traits?"

Nick eyeballed him. 'Not at the time, I didn't. No."

Doc nodded. "Alright, we're going to try an exercise here. I want you to describe what Nicholas Jonathon Barkley does, in the third person."

Nick was baffled. "What do you mean?"

"I mean describe Nicholas Jonathon Barkley's work on the ranch as if he's just someone you know."

"Well, he's a hothead and-"

"Stop. Rule number 1...you can't use anything you already used. Rule 2: I want to hear about your ranch work. What does Nick do on the ranch?"

"Well…" Nick paused for a moment. "He's the ranch foreman."

Doc shook his head. "I don't know what that means. What does the ranch foreman do?"

Nick thought about it for a moment. "He hires and fires wranglers and other such. He orders supplies, he oversees repairs on buildings, fences and stuff. He runs the horse and cattle breeding program. He keeps the ranch books, handles the taxes and government payments, pays the hands, arranges payment for equipment and supplies. He figures out how much hay and feed the ranch needs and orders it in advance. He organizes the ranch work, roundups and cattle drives to get the herd to market. He deals with the buyers in San Francisco to get the best prices. He oversees the orchards, planting, care and the picking season as well shipping and sales of the harvest. He handles the winery, arranges the wine sale and reviews the books there. He reviews the books, purchases and sales for the timber and the mines. He….." Nick's voice trailed off.

"What?" Doc Marten stared intently at him.

"Maybe..Maybe Nick Barkleys not as dumb as I thought."

Doc smiled. "Let's talk about that."

bvbvbvbvbvbvbvbvbvbvbvb

Evenings were Victoria's favorite time of day for a specific reason: her family was together. They might not always be doing the same activity but they were in the same room, giving her a chance to run a sort of "check up" as it were to see jpw the family was functioning. Lately, she had the feeling the family wasn't functioning well. Right now for example, Jarrod and Audra were in the drawing room and Nick was quite obviously not, playing with Jordan and giving reading lessons to Angela. Victoria wasn't certain it was an attempt to keep a distance between himself and Jarrod, but she couldn't help but wonder.

She became aware that Heath was beside her, watching the little group outside. Nick had seated Jordan on his shoulders and was carefully pointing out the constellations in the sky, to Jordan's obvious delight. He said something that made Jordan clap in delight and Nick laughed out loud, looking happy and relaxed for only the second time that day.

Heath shook his head in wonder.

"What?" Victoria asked.

"I keep seeing it, but I don't believe it."

"Nick and Jordan?"

Heath nodded. "He really loves her."

Heath had never really thought of Nick as having much of a soft spot for kids, and his brother's utter devotion to the little girl was, if touching, somewhat unexpected.

Victoria smiled. "You wouldn't be so surprised if you'd seen him with Audra when she was a baby."

"Attached?"

"Lord, Yes." Victoria laughed. "Jarrod was a very quiet child. Even when he was a baby he never really started crying without putting a lot of thought into it first. Nick, of course, spoke his mind. Eugene was similar to Jarrod, and Audra…. She was in a category of her own. She was extremely sensitive to food, and clothing and light and noise…. Anything being even slightly off would send her into a fuss."

Heath grinned; some things never changed.

"Until Audra, I was a very self-confident mother. Audra though, was Nick's baby more than mine was. Tom and I would be up past midnight, utterly exhausted from having done everything we could to get her to stop crying and fall asleep and Nick would come in only half awake and mumble that I was doing it wrong. He'd pick up Audra and hold her like a sack of potatoes…and she'd stop crying in seconds. By the time he hauled her upstairs to his bedroom she'd be happily asleep and stay that way for the rest of the night. I was always torn between feeling grateful and hurt."

"So, Nick was her hero?"

"From the start. As soon as she could walk she'd follow Nick everywhere. When I'd pick her up to keep her from following him into the yard she burst into tears. She made no effort to hide the fact that she preferred Nick's company to mine. Nick loved having her around; he would take her everywhere he could and do anything she wanted. When Audra was 4 Tom found Nick teaching her how to brand calves and he finally put some limits on their excursions."

Heath wished he'd been there. "I'd bet good money they acted like two puppies on a leash for the first time."

"Oh, it was dreadful." Victoria confirmed. "The Pouting, the tantrums…and Audra was even worse."

Heath shoulders shook with laughter. "I'da paid good money to see that."

Nick opened the garden door for Angela as she came in carrying Jordan.

"Did the reading lessons go well?" Victoria asked gently.

Angela nodded, not quite meeting her eyes. "Mr Nick's a good teacher."

"Jordan learned a new word tonight!" Nick said proudly. "Go ahead, Jordan."

The little girl pulled herself straight up in her Mother's grasp and her eyes sparkled.

"DOTH!"

"Isn't that great?" Nick beamed.

"DOTH! DOTH! DOTH! DOTH! DOTH! DOTH! DOTH! DOTH!"

"Time's ta sleep." Angela murmured. "Needs to put her ta bed."

Nick nodded. "Night, Angela. Night, Jordan."

'DOTH!"

"Great word to teach her Nick," Heath observed as the little girl was carried out of the room. "Likely come in real handy next time she runs into John the Baptist."

"You're just jealous because Jordan doesn't like your stories."

"Well, next time I'll just work the word 'forsooth' into the tale and that'll probably fix it right up."

Nick tossed a cue stick at Heath. "How about a game of pool?"

"I guess I can make the time to win your money." Heath smiled as he deftly caught the stick.

Jarrod rose from the desk. "Mind if I join you two gentlemen?"

There was the barest flicker of pauses before Heath said "Always room for one more. You break."

Victoria sat quietly, her sewing forgotten. Jarrod may have missed that second of hesitation, that disconcerting under current of tension, but she hadn't and she watched the game closely. Nick had lost his relaxed air the moment Jarrod joined the game. Heath had become quiet and watchful, catching everything despite his deceptively relaxed stance. Jarrod was concentrating so intently on the game that he was oblivious to Nick's discomfort.

"You know I was thinking, 5 ball in the corner pocket, about that cattle auction in Frisco that you and Heath can't get to."

Nick and Heath exchanged a glance.

"It's not that we can't get to it, Jarrod." Heath corrected mildly. "We just don't want to go."

"I don't know why-seven ball in the side pocket."

"Because there's nothing there we want to buy." Nick answered. "We already looked at the catalogue, Jarrod."

"I looked at it too, and I think you're making a mistake. Nine ball in the upper pocket. I thought I could go for you; maybe pick up some livestock."

"We don't want any of the livestock there. Most of 'em are Brahmens and we don't want any Brahmen bulls on the ranch. You're not going to make that shot." Nick added helpfully.

"Yes I will." Jarrod glanced curiously at his brother. "Oh, come on Nick. You aren't clinging to all those unreasonable objections to brahmens still, are you?" The ball settled neatly in the pocket. "Told you I'd make it."

"It's not an unreasonable objection, Jarrod. The damn things are mean. Heath, you tell him."

"The damn things are mean, Jarrod." Heath dutifully offered.

Jarrod snorted. "Nothing you two can't handle. I don't know what you're so afraid of."

"Bleedin' mostly. I've seen those things in action, Jarrod and they're out and out vicious. I don't want to try to herd around something that's going to skewer my guts for fun."

"Skewered guts," Heath intoned solemnly "Are bad."

"Eleven ball in the back pocket. Isn't that a little exaggerated?"

"No," Nick wondered if Jarrod was even listening to him. "I was on a ranch once where they had a brahmen. It kicked apart a stall door just so it could gore some poor horse."

"A gored horse." Heath echoed.

"Would you stop that?" Nick aimed a half-hearted cuff at his brother as Heath started to laugh.

"Jarrod, Nick and me already talked about it, and we decided not to go."

"You're making a mistake." Jarrod said bluntly.

Nick looked tired of the conversation. "Don't you have to get up early to catch a train tomorrow, Jarrod?"

Jarrod studied his brother for a moment, then lowered the cue stick. "Yes, I suppose I do." He placed the cue back in the rack and remembered something.

"Oh, Nick, you're going to have a new ranch hand tomorrow."

Nick's eyed him suspiciously. "I didn't hire a new hand."

"No, I did." Jarrod explained. "His name's Ira McArthur."

"Isn't he your robbery client?"

"I am his attorney, yes."

"We don't need a new hand." Nick's stated flatly.

Victoria stirred uneasily, scenting an argument - and a nasty one at that- in the making.

"Oh, come on Nick, we can usually use an extra man or two." Jarrod soothed.

"Not right now, we can't. There's no work for him."

Jarrod's smile hardened slightly. "Then make work for him."

"Why?"

Jarrod sighed; his stubborn brother wasn't going to make this easy.

"Because he was released on his own recognizance as long as he maintains regular employment. He needed a job; we gave him one."

"No, we didn't give him one." Nick's voice was brittle with anger. "You gave him one."

"For God's sake, Nick. Try to have an open mind. Just because you're not the one who hired him-"

"It's got nothing to do with the fact that I didn't hire him!"

"Then WHAT is your objection? If you have a rational one," sarcasm was leaking into Jarrod's voice, "I'd like to hear it."

"My objection." Nick managed to ladle even more sarcasm on the words than Jarrod did, "Is you're going to go trotting off to San Francisco tomorrow and I'll be stuck keeping an eye on him for you. This is the fourth time in two years you've dumped one of your convicts on me and I'm tired of it!"

"Nick, I don't think it's asking too much-"

"Of course, you don't think it's asking too much because you never have to put up with them, I do! I'm the one who has to juggle everything to work in someone who's probably never done and honest days labor in his life. You don't understand-"

"No, Nick! YOU'RE the one who doesn't understand! I am trying to help someone turn their life around, and you're upset because you'll may have to change out the person who's counting cows for a day or two! You're so angry about being inconvenienced that you won't even give the man a chance!"

"If you're so eager to give him a chance why don't you put him to work in your God damn office?" Nick was openly shouting.

"Nick! Jarrod! Stop, both of you!" The two men fell silent, wearing identically stubborn expressions. "Jarrod, you should have at least checked with Nick before you hired the man. Nick, Jarrod is right, it won't hurt to give him a chance."

"We. Don't. Need. Him." Nick's jaw was clenched so tightly that Victoria expected to hear the cracking of teeth.

She took a deep breath. She rarely interfered in running the ranch, but if Nick wouldn't give in on this then she would exercise her prerogative to do so.

"Make room for him anyway."

There was a long moment of silence.

"Is that an order?"

Victoria closed her eyes; Nick was going to force the issue.

"Yes."

Hazel eyes crackled with utter fury for a moment, then subsided into bitter resentment.

"Yes Ma'am, Mrs. Barkley. Is there anything else or may I leave to do my chores now, please?"

Heath flinched.

"Nicholas!" Victoria experienced a flare of anger she rarely felt towards her children. She was appalled at herself and furious at her son all at the same instant.

Nick tossed his cue stick on the pool table. "If there's any more orders you want carried out Jarrod, just put them in writing."

He stalked out of the room and a moment later the front door opened and shut again.

Jarrod shook his head in frustration. "Heath, will you talk to Nick? Make him understand-"

"Jarrod, you got your way." Heath replied tiredly. "What else do you want?"

Jarrod stared after Heath in mild surprise as his brother left the room.

Victoria sat down again, feeling exhausted. "That was ugly." She picked at the embroidery she had been working on.

"I'm sorry, Mother." Jarrod sat on the chair next to her. "I don't know what brought that on. Would you like me to keep you company?"

"No, you have to catch the early train. You go on up to bed. I'm just going to sit here and think for a while."

She felt her son kiss her forehead and heard him walk up the stairs as she absentmindedly studied the embroidery, noticing a frayed edge she hadn't seen before.

"I think it's coming unraveled."