I do NOT own The Big Valley nor any of the original Big Valley characters.

*A/N The song 'Meet Me in the Moonlight' is an actual song written and Composed By J. Augustine Wade, Esqr in 1812.

End of the Rainbow

Chapter Eight

Jarrod, who'd been looking for his mother, was not surprised to find her in Nick's room. He hated what Nick's disappearance was doing to the family, but the Pinkertons had been talking to everyone they could find, trying to locate, as they put it, 'one Nicolas Jonathon Barkley'. The only thing they'd come up with so far was Mr. Woodland's unintentional confession, and he was no longer talking. That being the case, they could only assume the man Mr. Woodland shot may have been Nick, but there was still no real proof.

"Are you all right, Mother?" Jarrod hated seeing his mother hurting so; she hadn't looked this bad since his father had been killed. How Jarrod wished he could take all her pain away.

"Heath is insisting that he's going back to Rockville when it's time for another auction." Victoria turned and looked at Jarrod. "A part of me is terrified of him leaving; I find myself with an irrational fear he won't be returning, that he'll go missing like Nick." She choked on her words as Jarrod quickly wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

"I can talk to him, if you want. We need nothing from the auction." Jarrod didn't know that he'd have much luck talking Heath out of anything, but if it gave his mother some peace of mind, it was worth it.

Victoria pulled back and straightened up. While she appreciated her son's concern, she could not ask him to do such a thing. Heath needed peace of mind just as bad as any of them did. "No, I'll be fine. Audra's been after me to go with her to the orphanage, I think I best go. You will keep in touch with the Pinkertons though?"

Jarrod nodded. "I don't plan on letting up." 'I'll never let up until we get answers'. He held the door open while his mother exited the room, and then left himself, hoping Nick would just surprise them all and come home soon.

Home- that was a word Patrick was having a difficult time connecting to the loft. He lay his pillow down, and then took the blankets Cat was handing to him.

"I really 'ate the idea of you 'avin' to be sleepin' up 'ere when there's a perfectly good bed inside." Cat felt guilty, knowing he was doing this to protect her reputation, something she herself had stressed when he first arrived at her home. Now, she found herself more concerned about his comfort than her good name.

"I told you before," he said as he took a hold of her shoulders, "it's better this way. Though," he smiled and continued speaking, "if you don't mind, night company on the porch would be great. That, and agree if your friends haven't arrived back within the next week, we'll go together looking for a home for those horses. I made you that promise; I don't intend to break it."

"You'll be keepin' the promise, I know. Next week is the auction. Since Mr. Smitt never showed for 'is 'orse, I'm forced to sell it at the auction. After all I don't 'ave money to spare."

Patrick scratched the back of his neck while he thought. "Paul Miller, despite that jerk of a brother, seems nice enough. I'll talk to him about taking the animal into the auction, if your friends don't show up. Can you live with that?"

Cat felt uncomfortable about sending the horse to auction with anyone but her; still, Patrick had a point. Her other horses needed a home and, unless Henry and Marie Hanks showed up soon, what choice would they have? "I don't like it, but okay. Now let's get to the porch." It was the closest she was going to get to saying, "Let's get away from the temptation that's 'ere."

Patrick smiled and followed her down the ladder and over to the house. He sat on the porch while she went and got her flute. It didn't take long before she was playing 'Meet Me in the Moonlight'. He hated to hear the song end for he knew he meant she'd be heading to bed, even if it wasn't dark yet. How he hated the fact that the doctors knew of no way to save her life.

"Good night, Patrick." Cat stood up and, on impulse, gave him a hug; she then quickly went inside afraid of what might happen if she did not.

Patrick did not budge; he watched the sunset thinking on Cat, her horses and what where he might go the day she passed on. If only he knew who he was, where he was from, maybe the doctor there could help Cat. He was brought out of his thoughts as he heard footsteps approaching. It might not have gotten his attention, but someone was trying to be awfully quiet; Patrick quietly removed his pistol, turned slightly and waited.

He waited and listened. Something wasn't right. Whoever it was was doing something at the side of the house. Patrick stood up and quietly headed for the side of the house. He was horrified to smell something starting to burn and he ran around the corner. Startled, a stranger turned to run only to find a bullet in his leg. The man then made the mistake of going for his gun; it never left its holster.

Patrick would have run into the house and gotten Cat, but she was already out the front door. Together they put out the fire the man had started. Once they putting out the flames, Patrick turned to Cat. "Do you know him?"

"'e's 'ung 'round with Matthew Miller at times," she answered after walking over and looking down at the dead man, "I bet you anythin' 'e, Mr. Miller that be, sent 'im."

'She doesn't care about the farm; it's her horses she's worried about." The thought pressed itself upon his mind he knew only one thing; they had to leave the farm no matter what.