Man of Justice

I do not own The Big Valley or any of the original Barkleys.

Chapter Eleven

The blue sky was dotted everywhere with fluffy white clouds and a few birds could be seen flying over the ranch. To an outsider, it might have seen like the perfect day. As it was, Tom stood on the porch with his bedroll in his hand looking towards the corral where McCall and Nick were sitting on the top of the fence talking. Nick had a temper tantrum when he'd overheard his parents talking after he'd gotten back from riding with McCall …when he learned what his father was planning on doing, as he feared losing him.

Normally such a display would have earned him a sound wallop and the rest of the day in his room. But neither Tom nor Victoria had the heart to physically chastise the child. He was visibly distressed and unable to control the very same fear that gripped their own hearts. McCall had offered to go talk to the lad. It was an offer Tom wasn't about to turn down. How could he? The man was at least having success when it came to getting through to Nick.

When Victoria walked up beside him, Tom turned and did his best to give her a smile, "Don't chase him away from McCall while I'm gone, please."

Victoria gave him a half a smile, her eyes full of hurt and disappointment. How could Tom believe she would do that after Nick had overheard the Marshall telling them that not only did Jacob Michaels have no government contacts, but he was suspected of smuggling guns to the Indians. The Marshall believed that Jacob was using his wagon train, and the good people, as a cover to transport his guns. In fact, the lawman's exact words had been, "We are this close to proving he and a few men have been smuggling guns to the *Klamath, and I'd appreciate your help. You know the man and I'd like you to come with me. I'm going after that wagon train. I want to question that man myself. You should get your son away from him as soon as possible as I wouldn't trust him to go out of his way to keep the any of those people on the train safe including your boy. I, myself, would also fear what might happen should the Modoc find out he's taking guns to a *people they are often times at odds with." The Marshall would lie up in town for a day, if Tom was going to go with him he could contact him through the sheriff's office. Tom and Victoria hadn't needed a long winded discussion, the dangers were clear, but more so for Jarrod, so the decision was quickly made.

Tom stood staring at his wife, wishing he had never allowed his son to go. "Torie, I'm… "

Victoria put her hand gently to his lips, "Just bring Jarrod back and," her voice grew bitter, "Tell Jacob to never set foot on this ranch again!"

Fear for his son and anger towards the man who he considered a former friend now raged through Tom. He had no problem in giving his wife such a promise. "You just take care of yourself." He gave her a soft and gentle kiss, brushing his cheek against her soft cheeks, wet with tears, then glanced down at her still flat abdomen. "You don't want to get too stressed." He then stepped off the porch and headed for his horse which Jim, one of the ranch hands, had already saddled for him.

Jim and a couple of other hands were going with him just in case Jacob got skittish and tried anything. He would have preferred to have McCall along, but the foreman was the best one to run the ranch in Tom's absence, and he could keep an eye on Nick.

While Tom and Victoria were talking, McCall was, at last, getting through to Nick. "Your father's a good man, Nick. Like I keep telling you, he had no way of knowin' the man called Jacob Michael was lying about there being no problems with the Indians. After all, up to now, as far as your father believed, the man would never think of doing such a thing. To blame him, or your mother," he said as he gave the boy who had turned into his shadow, a soft, yet firm glare, "is not right. Think about it. How would you feel if you got blamed for what someone else chose to do?"

Nick's shoulders, which he had been holding in a stiff, unyielding manner, sagged downwards. He'd hate it and he knew it. It's just he was terrified for his brother and wanted him back. He wanted him back, but he was afraid to find out how Jarrod had changed. After all, the first part of his dream was coming true, what if the second half did too?

When he saw his father heading for his horse, Nick jumped off the fence and ran straight for him. Tom, who saw him coming, naturally stopped and waited for his son to reach him. His heart swelled up inside him as Nick wrapped his arms around his waist and apologized. "I'm sorry, father. It ain't your fault that bad man lied to you. And I know you can't control what happens when someone makes a bad choice. I never shoulda said all those horrible things." He'd gone so far as saying if Jarrod was hurt or missing it was all Tom's fault for not listening to him in the first place.

Tom knelt down in front of his son and took a hold of his shoulders, after throwing his bedroll on the back of his horse. Looking Nick straight in the eye, Tom smiled the best he could. "Thank you. It takes a lot of courage to apologize sincerely to another person. Now, promise me, no matter what, go apologize that sincerely to your mother. You're the man of the house until I get back, but just the same mind your Mother and McCall. I promise I will bring Jarrod home if at all possible and," Tom paused and then sighed, "if you have to hit something, find something in the barn or around the yard. Don't go hitting the wall again." That was another thing Nick had done. "Can't have you breaking that roping arm, now can we?" Tom smiled as he ruffled his boy's thick hair.

"Yes, father." Nick beamed as he ran off to do as he had been asked to. By the time he reached his mother, his father and the other men were riding away from the ranch.

* "The Modoc were nomadic hunters and gatherers, surviving on fish, game, seeds, roots, and berries. By weaving together tule reeds they made a variety of their needs including fishing rafts, baskets, moccasins, and summer huts. In the winter they made their homes in earthen dug-out lodges.

Though they spoke virtually the same language as the Klamath tribe and often intermarried with them, they also had a number of conflicts with them."

(That's an exact quote from a site on the internet...only the link won't show for some reason).