Chapter Two
Breakfast was in full swing as Victoria and Nick's family was interrupted by a loud, jovial voice, "Tell him—Nick, Nick Barkley your old war horse is here."
Nick jumped up at the voice as Silas tried to politely introduce the man, "What are you barging in here like this, you old coot!"
They immediately bear-hugged each other.
Nellie and the twins' eyes grew wide at the scene as Victoria pieced together the relationship.
"Family, this is Colonel Jock McClain—-my commanding officer from the Wilderness Campaign."
"Pleased to meet you lovely ladies, and these two fine children—-they definitely take after their mother, thankfully." he chortled.
"Victoria Barkley. I have heard many fond stories of Nick's."
He took her hand and kissed it.
"My wife, Nellie, and our twins, James and Mary."
"Oh, my stars in the heavens! You don't look old enough to have these almost grown-up children. Fine strapping boy, Nick. He's got your height and I hope his mama's brains. And what a fine little lady! Twins you say? Lucky man ya are Nicky!"
"And this big boy is my namesake. We call him Jonny."
"Well thank the good Lord he looks like his Mama! Fine boy, old Nicky! l will say it again!" slapping him on the back.
"Would you like some breakfast?"
"I reckon I do. Got bacon in my nose since the front door."
James piped up, "My brothers John and Jude are in the Calvary. Do you know them?"
"More sons, Nick?"
Nellie looked down and Nick took her hand, "Nellie has five fine stepsons from San Diego. Davis is their last name."
"Oh, that makes sense. You musta been robbed out of the cradle."
Nellie blushed, "Something like that."
Jock realized his comment, "Glad old Nick here found a pretty wife to settle him down. I'ffn I were not so bootstrap-worn, I would be looking for someone just as sweet. Army is my life. Joined at 16; I am six months from a pension after thirty years." and he drifted off in his tone, pensive and troubled.
He sat down at the table and tucked in the cloth napkin at his collar
Nick hated his superior's discomfort, "Please stay with us. We would love to have you."
He chomped on a piece of bacon, "Sounds good to me."
—-&—
Melanie DeLand signed a bank draft for the new manila rope orders. It had been a big seller to rivermen and cattlemen. She sighed in boredom and frustration.
"I love my father, I really do—-but I miss my life. At least I have my writing."
She washed her hands in the basin in the back room and sighed at her reflection in the mirror. She had been back almost a year in Stockton from her life in San Francisco and Washington DC. She wiped off a smidge of machine oil from her hand.
After she finished teacher's college, she took a private job as a teacher to a congressman's children. A young congressional page caught her eye and she began an affair with him—believing him to desire marriage. He left her adrift and she lost her job as a teacher. She began working for a publishing house and found herself moving quickly up from her copyreading joy to writing a book. Her first lady's romance was due out soon. She was working on a second.
She found herself wondering what her life would have been like with Nick Barkley—if she hadn't obeyed her father and broken off the relationship.
"Stay away from the Barkleys," he had told her ominously. He borrowed money and sent her off to college. Last year, his health declined and she begrudgingly returned to Stockon.
Nick was now married to a beautiful blonde woman. She found herself jealous and envious of the place she should have had—-
She avoided Nick at all costs in town but found herself watching his young blonde wife whenever she came to town. She had delivered him a son, a namesake. He adopted those fair-headed twins of hers—-some said she had been married to a friend of Nick's or a nemesis. She liked both ideas as she pondered them for the fiction she wrote.
"I can't help but think of the life I would have had with Nick Barkley. I still wonder why Father forbid it."
—-&-
Anson Gregory walked into the chandlery store in a huff, "I need to see Cyrus—now!"
Melanie came out of the back with her pen in her hand, "Quiet! You know Father is ill."
"There is a problem. Peter Doolin should be here any time soon too," as he brushed past her.
She stood at the kitchen door as she heard him force his way into her father's bedroom, "Wake up you silly old fool. Get what is left of your wits about you. They have found the River Monarch. We are undone."
"Tom? I am sorry."
"I am not Tom Barkley. It's me, Anson."
"The purser? You don't own the ship. Tom does."
Melanie stood at the door and listened.
"They have found the River Monarch. Doolin is on the way. The Knights of the Golden Circle. Remember the gold?"
"Nick Barkley has the gold."
"No, he doesn't."
"He took it."
"No, he didn't. He was at war."
"Wouldn't let Melanie court Nick—-the gold—guilty."
She cocked her head trying to figure out her father's rambling. He would repeat the word, star over and over in his sleep.
The bell rang on the front door and she heard the resounding voice of Peter Doolin making his way to their living quarters.
She quickly pretended to be drying dishes.
He stopped and took off his hat—-he smiled a full smile of his false teeth.
Melanie tried to look at them inconspicuously as the whole town had heard the story of Jarrod's rebuttal of Peter Doolin's words—with his fist.
"They look so real," she couldn't help but think.
"Afternoon, Miss DeLand. You are looking lovely this afternoon. Is Anson Gregory the voice I hear in your dear father's room?
"Yes. What could my father possibly help you two with? You know he's not himself much anymore."
"I do, lovely lady. There have been some developments in an old Knights of the Golden Circle event."
Melinda found her voice, "Yes the River Monarch has been found. Million dollars of government gold on the bottom of the river. So what does it have to do with my father, he was just the manager for the Barkley Freight at the time."
"Don't worry, your pretty little head. We, men, will take care of it."
She was about to rebuke him again and her father's voice clearly rang out, "Melanie!"
As she pushed past him, a vase crashed to the floor. She didn't stop to pick it up, "Father, I am here."
"Melanie, tell Tom Barkley I couldn't die taking this to the grave. I am so sorry for my part. The gold is in the—-he will know where. I couldn't let you marry Nick knowing what happened. Just couldn't."
"Papa? Are you saying Tom Barkley took the gold?"
Anson and Peter shared a look.
"No—I mean yes. Nick—-" and he gurgled with another small stroke that had beset him for months.
His eyes rolled back and his right side slumped. His breathing was normal but he couldn't not be awakened.
Peter imperceptibly nodded to Anson.
"Melanie, the whole town knows my hatred of the Barkleys?"
She tucked her father into his bed, ignoring Doolin, and added another pillow, "Doc Merar says there's nothing to do about these apoplexies. Just keep him from choking and be comfortable. He won't wake up for a few hours." she sighed and trembled.
"Melanie, take care of yourself and your father. Anson and I will take care of his reputation."
"What? And what does this have to do with your hatred of the Barkleys?
"Tis a terrible burden I bear—-I began to hate Tom Barkley when I realized he had a hand in the death of those 23 men on the River Monarch. The gold was never found. According to your father just now, it's with the Barkleys. I always suspected that in my heart. The Knights of the Golden Circle pursued the matter to a dead end. Some of our members died in the explosion."
Anson's face was incredulous as Peter spun this story.
Melanie began to cry and the editor put his arm around her.
"Is this why he wouldn't let me see Nick Barkley?"
"Yes. He loved you very much. He knew the truth would come out some day. Justice always has a way of finding evil out."
She sat down in the chair and put her head in her hands, "This makes so much sense."
He stroked her shoulders, "I am so sorry my dear. Your father wanted to keep it to himself what vile people the Barkleys were.
"What can I do to help you, Mr. Doolin?"
"Peter, please."