Chapter Twelve

The wind was blowing fierce as John stepped out of the barn and forced the door shut. He didn't care for these kinds of days, but cows still needed to be milked and chores didn't do themselves. After he latched the barn door shut, he hurried as fast as he could to get back inside the house he shared with Mrs. Davies and his 'brother', William. William, or Will as John called him, should have been handling these early morning chores, but he'd married the week before and was away on his honeymoon. And, the oldest Davies son, Paul, had moved away, that left John to deal with the work by himself.

Upon entering the "mudroom", as Mrs. Davies called it, John opened the door that separated the mudroom from the kitchen. Swinging the door shut behind him, he headed for the cook stove and the coffee pot that sat on it.

Mrs. Davies, who had just walked up the hallway that led from her room up to the kitchen, jerked slightly backwards as the door slammed shut. Would John never learn to shut a door quietly? She stepped into the dining room and watched as her "son" poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table. Sliding her hand into her dress pocket, the light brown, slightly graying, fifty-year-old woman felt the telegram that arrived the day before. Since it was addressed to John, she had not opened and read it. She knew she should have given him the message when it arrived only the moment she'd read the name Steve Brighton on it, she was uneasy. Oh, not that she didn't like Steve, she did. It's just that when he and John had worked together there had been something there that she could not put her finger on it, and it made her uneasy.

"What's wrong, Mama Davies?" John set his coffee cup down and looked at the woman who had taken over raising him upon the chief's request. Overall, she was a very good person who did her best by her family. Still, when she got 'that' look-a look of anxiety and unease, it made him leery.

Ever so slowly, Mrs. Davies forced herself to pull the telegram out of her pocket, handed it to John and admitted how long she'd had it. She wasn't surprised to see both shock and disapproval appear in his eyes, though he simply shook his head and took the telegram. He might have said something but Mrs. Davies never handled telegrams very well. In the past, telegrams had brought nothing but bad news…including the news that Mr. Davies had been killed in a freak accident in one of the Davies' friend's mines.

"What does it say?" She asked as John opened the telegram and began reading.

John smiled and told her to relax. "Steve is coming for a visit, has a friend he wants me to meet." He handed her the telegram and went back to drinking his coffee. He would need to be wide awake if he was going to get all his morning work done. When Mrs. Davies continued standing, he looked at her and asked, "Is there something else?"

For a small minute, Mrs. Davies could see her late husband talking to their Indian friend and the face of one very angry eleven-year-old. The first few years had not been easy, there were days this son's temper still got the best of him, but it didn't matter. He tried hard to do his work; he was as honest as the day long and when he smiled his dimples just melted her heart. She had loved him as she had her own sons. Where had the years gone to, and why did she still have an uneasy feeling when it came to the telegram? "It's nothing," she sighed and looked around the room and silently asked the same question about time over again. "Just not ready to start the day." She answered as she walked into the kitchen and began preparing breakfast. No matter what she was feeling, her family still needed to be fed.

John knew how that was and would have chuckled had it not been for the fact that his mind was on the telegram and his friend, Steve. A part of him was excited that he would be seeing his friend once more, the other part wondered why he'd had a small amount of trepidation flood through him. Why should he get that feeling? All Steve was doing was bringing a friend with him. John pushed the feelings and thoughts aside; ready or not, he had to eat and get back to work.

~oOo~

Having ridden their horses to the train station, Jarrod and Steve had led their horses to the animal car. Afterwards, they'd boarded the train and settled into their seats. Neither spoke, Jarrod's mind on the possibility that he was going to be reunited with his long lost brother while Steve's mind was on Lily and the talk they'd had before he and Jarrod had left Stockton.

"While you are gone, I wish you'd consider it." Lily, who had walked out of their bedroom and into the living room, had just shocked Steve by approaching him about the two of them adopting Paulette. "She is a sweet young girl and, come to find out, her aunt isn't even interested in taking her in, never was." She wasn't about to admit how relieved she was there would be no trouble in the orphanage adopting the young girl out. "I know, because she replied to the good father's letter-in which he said he had a couple who might take Paulette in." She added, due to the look of hesitation in Steve's eyes, "All I'm asking is that you think about it. For now, focus on going to Nevada with Jarrod and finding out if John is indeed Nicolas Jonathon Barkley."

Steve turned his head towards Jarrod, intending to ask him a question. However, the moment he did he could plainly see that Jarrod had his eyes on the window, but that his mind was far away. Steve leaned back in his seat and remained silent. After the reunion he'd had with his mother, sister and her family, he could very well imagine what was going through Jarrod's mind. "I hope I'm not wasting his time." Steve thought as he closed his eyes and allowed the sound and feel of the train rolling down the tracks to lull him to sleep.