“Please Mother, will you just listen to reason?” insisted Jarrod. He along with his younger brother Nick had been trying to convince their Mother that her upcoming journey wasn’t safe. Used to having her way, Victoria Barkley was not going to give into their unjustified fears.
“I have, Jarrod. There is absolutely no reason I can’t go
on this trip with Father Sanchez. He’s asked for my help in setting up this new
mission and I see no reason for disappointing the man. Besides, if the Modocs
want to cause trouble than perhaps this is needed more than ever. It is better than waiting until it is too
late to help them.”
“Mother it isn’t a case of we don’t want you to help, but
couldn’t it wait another month or two until the unrest in that area has a
chance to settle down. At least then I can go with you, right now is not a good
time for me to leave.”
Looking her oldest in the eye and spoke firmly, “I do not
need you to take care of me, Jarrod. I am perfectly capable of taking care of
myself. Since when do I need your
permission?”
Jarrod sighed, “I simply want to make sure you make it
there and back.” Glaring at Nick, who
was wisely keeping silent, Jarrod implored him, “How about a little help here Nick?”
Impatient with the whole situation, Nick looked at
Victoria, “Jarrod’s right Mother. It’s not a good idea to go up there right
now. Look, give me a couple weeks and
I’ll go with you...” giving Jarrod a pointed look, he added, “since Jarrod
can’t take off of his busy schedule to escort you.”
Jarrod snapped at Nick, “I have a full case load right
now, Nick. I can’t just ignore that.”
“Well, I have a ranch to run. With Heath laid up I can’t
be takin’ off,” said Nick.
“But you expect me too!”
“Yes!” Waving his hand in the air, Nick responded tersely,
“Have Mark take over. Your
always telling us what a good lawyer he is.”
“It’s not that simple, Nick!”
Victoria raised her voice above that of the arguing,
“ENOUGH! I’m going whether you like it or not.”
Standing up and she looked at them sternly, “I don’t want to hear
another word from either of you.”
Heading towards the door, she left her sons glaring at one another.
Waiting until she was gone, Nick finally burst, “Damn it
Jarrod, why are you being so stubborn.”
Jarrod gave him a cynical laugh, “Me stubborn!?” Gesturing
towards him, Jarrod frowned, “I can’t just up and leave, Nick. I have
responsibilities.”
“And I’m responsible for this ranch.” He added
sarcastically, “You know the ranch don’t you Jarrod. The
place that provides the money, the food on the table, the roof over our heads.”
Pushing away from the table, Jarrod stepped towards Nick
and stood toe to toe, staring at him with fury in his eyes, “What are you saying Nick, that my work isn’t
important?”
Nick stabbed Jarrod in the chest with his finger,
punctuating his words, “Don’t twist my words. I can’t leave right now and you
can, end of discussion!”
Slapping Nick’s hand away, Jarrod snarled angrily, “Go to
hell, Nick!” Nick was left standing alone, feeling only slightly guilty for
antagonizing his older brother into doing the right thing. His responsibility was to the ranch and the
family and Jarrod needed to reset his own priorities. He didn’t have a problem with Jarrod’s choice
to forego ranching to pursue a career as an attorney, as long as it didn’t
interfere with how he did his job. This
wasn’t the first time they’d butted heads and it wouldn’t be the last. Heading off to work, his duties took over and
he put the incident out of his mind.
*********
Jarrod spent the next two days working long hours trying
to clear his schedule. He used every favor he had to postpone two of the three
cases he had on his calendar and the rest of his time preparing the final case
for Mark. He was on his second night of
little sleep when Nick found him in study, “What you doing up so late?”
“I’m working. I have to get this to Mark by the morning.”
Nick’s guilt surfaced, seeing how worn Jarrod was looking,
“I’m sorry for what I said, Jarrod, but it’s easier
for you to get away than me.”
Keeping his head down to hide the frustration at Nick’s
lack of understanding, he sighed, “Forget it.”
Everything was black and white for his brother; there was no gray in his
life. He saw things one way and his passion for the ranch often overshadowed
everything else. In Nick’s eyes there was nothing more important and that
included his career as an attorney. It was fine as long as it included the
legal aspects of the ranch but beyond that Nick just didn’t understand how time
consuming or demanding it was. To him it
was a whim that could be set aside at a moments notice.
Shifting on his feet, Nick hesitated a moment, “I just
wanted ta see if you was gonna be able to go with
Mother tomorrow. You ain’t been around much and I wasn’t sure.”
“You didn’t give me much choice. Why do you think I’m up
so late?” Looking Nick in the eye, Jarrod spoke with a calm that belied his
anger, “Look Nick, I have a lot of work still to do and the sooner I get it
done the sooner I get to bed.”
“I’ll leave ya alone then.” He turned to leave and was
going to add something but Jarrod was already hard at work. Wincing at the sight, he added softly,
“Night, Jarrod.”
Jarrod worked several more hours, hoping he’d covered
enough for Mark to handle the case. It was the most important of the three and
the only one he couldn’t postpone. They were right in the middle of presenting
it and the judge refused to delay it until his return. He’d keyed Mark in on as much as he could,
but the fact that a man’s life hung in the balance made leaving tomorrow
worrisome. Mark was a good lawyer, but
he sometimes lacked the courtroom savvy that could make or break a case and
Jarrod was duly concerned for his client.
The evidence to clear him was there, but Mark was going to have to work
to see that the jury saw it and to discredit the only witness. It was almost four in the morning before he
put the scattered papers up and went to bed.
Jarrod met Mark at seven and went over all the final
preparations then met his mother and Father Sanchez at the train depot by nine.
Nick saw them all off and they took the train as far as Castle Rock and then
the stage into Modoc country. Jarrod
wasn’t taking any chances and wore his gun and carried a rifle for added
protection. When they were at the last
stop, the station manager had pulled him aside and tried to dissuade him from
going any farther down the line. The Modocs were frustrated by the governments push to intern
them onto the Klamath reservation and several small bands were supposedly on
the warpath. The Modoc chief Captain Jack, was holed up in the lava beds and while the Army was
making every attempt to get him out, they weren’t having much luck. Captain Jack had escaped with his band of
followers from Lost River when the Indian agents tried to force them north onto
the Klamath reservation. The agents failed to understand that the Klamath and
Modoc were enemies and when the Modocs refused to be
bullied into joining the Klamath reservation, Captain Jack had turned renegade. Victoria and Father Sanchez were going to set up a
mission on the Klamath Reservation with the hope of pulling the Modocs into the church and show them that they could live
peacefully with one another. Today they were passing into the area of the lava beds
and Jarrod was on full alert.
The stage went several miles before Jarrod heard the first
crack of a rifle and felt the lurch of the stage as the horses were urged to go
faster. Sticking his head out the window, he looked back and could see seven or
eight Indians on horseback, trying to catch up with them. They were pulling away and he was ready to
thank his luck when another shot rang out and he heard the driver cry out in
pain. Losing the reins in the process, Jarrod watched helplessly as the stage
careened over the bumpy road. They were still gaining ground on the renegades
and without even thinking, he handed his rifle to Father Sanchez and climbed
out the window thinking he could maybe get the horses back under control. He was almost to the top when they hit a bad
stretch of road and he heard the ominous crack of the axle. Looking back for
only a second he tightened his handhold and watched with wide eyes as the back
wheel fell away and rolled off the road. With only three wheels, the stage lurched
precariously and Jarrod’s lost his foothold. His arms were the only thing
keeping him in place and he slammed into the stage several times before his
feet found some purchase and he was able to climb up to the seat. The driver
sat with his hands in a white-knuckled grip on the seat trying to stay aboard
the tilted stage. Breathing hard, Jarrod ducked when several more shots filled
the air, but grabbing the reins, he finally had the horses under control.
Hollering so Jarrod could hear, the driver gave his
frantic opinion, “Keep goin’. You stop now, they’ll
kill us!”
Nodding, Jarrod slapped the reins and tried to maintain
his balance over the rough road. They made another mile when the stage suddenly
hit a rock. Jarrod felt the stage start
to tip, but he was powerless to do anything. The momentum was too much and he
was suddenly on the ground watching helplessly as the stage slammed to its side
and skidded to a stop. Before the wheels
quit spinning he was on his feet and running for the stage, scared at what he
would find. “MOTHER!”
Victoria righted herself and her eyes darted around the
overturned stage looking for Father Sanchez and finding his still form, hurried
to his side. Gasping in shock at the odd
twist of his neck and vacant look, she knew there was no helping him. Suddenly the door above her flew open and
Jarrod was looking down on her, “Mother!”
Reaching a hand in the stage, he beckoned her to him, “Grab the rifle,
we have to get out of here!” His face
was bleeding but seeing him glance over his shoulder, she realized there was no
time to waste. Picking up the rifle, she handed it to him and let him help her
out.
Lifting her small frame out of the stage, Jarrod jumped
down and grabbing her waist, helped her down.
Glancing around for the driver, Jarrod found him slumped next to a rock
and rushed to help. Rolling him over, Jarrod startled at the man’s face.
Crushed on impact, there would be no helping him. Grabbing Victoria’s arm he
led her towards the steep embankment on the far side of the road and urged her
forward, “Go! I’ll catch up with you at the bottom.” She started down the hill and tried to slow
her descent over the steep terrain, but she quickly built up speed despite her
best efforts. Ten yards from the bottom, she lost her balance and tumbled the
remaining feet. Jarrod was behind her
and seeing her fall, let the hill carry him faster, just barely keeping his own
descent under control. She was sitting
up as he made his way to her and he sighed his relief. Panting for air, he squatted beside her and
asked with concern, “Are you alright?”
Nodding, Victoria lifted her hand out for help up, “I
think so.” Jarrod wrapped an arm around her and helped her to her feet, only to
have her cry out in pain, “My foot!”
Grasping her arm in his hand he lifted it over his
shoulder. Handing her the rifle, he wrapped his arm around her waist and
started them moving again. “I’m sorry Mother, but there is no time to look at
it right now. We have to keep moving!”
Victoria nodded and limped as best she could as they hurried from the
scene.
The ground was rough, and Jarrod was struggling to hold
his mother and make his own way, but his fear of getting caught was enough to
keep him going. If what the station
manager said was true, they would not survive getting caught. Hopefully the
wreck would slow their pursuers down but he wasn’t going to take any chances
with his mother’s life and tightening his hold, pulled her along with him. Jarrod gave her a sideways glance and worried
at how pale she was. Her breathing was sharp and she was trying hard not to
voice the pain she was in. His heart
ached to see her suffer so, but they really had little choice but to keep
moving. He spared a look back and was alarmed to see the warriors already on their
trail. More shots followed and Jarrod
needed to put some distance between them or slow them down somehow. Stopping short, he released his hold on
Victoria and took the rifle from her.
Balancing it on a large rock behind him, he took careful aim, held his
breath and dropped the lead Indian. Hearing him cry out, Jarrod turned the
rifle on a second brave. The shot was true, but it only hit him in the arm and
he kept advancing with his party until they all stopped to check on their
fallen friend. Satisfied he’d slowed them down at least momentarily, he helped
Victoria to her feet and was once again moving away, hopefully towards safety.
They’d gone another half mile and Jarrod was relieved to hear the sound of
water up ahead. The trees and brush had gotten thicker and he was thankful for
the added cover, but he had no idea where they were going or what was ahead of
them. Their luck was holding so far, but
he didn’t dare relax until safely out of reach.
Victoria was sagging heavily against him, and he took as
much of her weight as he could, short of carrying her. Nearing the river he
hurried his pace, thinking how good a drink of water would be right now. Their
followers momentarily forgotten, he helped his mother sit and they both drank
greedily of the cold water. It was heaven on their parched throats and Jarrod
took an extra minute to look at Victoria’s ankle. He reached out to pull her
boot off only to have her inhale sharply in pain. Distressed at having been the
cause, he paused, “I’m sorry, Mother.”
Patting his hand, she tried to reassure him, “I think it’s
better if we leave the boot on. I’m afraid if you take it off there’ll be no
getting it back on.” Her voice was laced with pain and although she was holding
up well, Jarrod could see she was hurting. Victoria was more concerned with her
son and used her handkerchief to wipe away the blood on his face. Jarrod tried
to pull away, but her hand held his chin firmly as she dabbed at the injury
over his brow. Cleaning it up, she was satisfied it wasn’t serious and released
her hold on him, “It’s not too bad. The bleeding has stopped.”
Nodding, Jarrod looked anxiously behind them, “We’d better
keep moving. I don’t know how far back...” His voice hitched and he jerked
forward, falling onto one hand and trying to grab for the sudden pain in his
back with the other.
Victoria gasped out loud at the arrow sticking out of his
upper back, “Jarrod!” They were both stunned for a second, before Jarrod
lurched to his feet and grabbing for her without regard to her injury, pushed
them both into the water. Holding her as
best he could, the water pulled at them and rather than fight it, he let it
carry them further downstream. His shoulder burned like fire and the water
tugged at the arrow, making it even more agonizing to try to swim and hold his
mother at the same time. He could hear the shouts on the bank above them but
the heavy brush at streams edge was providing them with a natural barrier from
their pursuers. The problem was the cold water. It was numbing not only his
shoulder but also the rest of him and he hated to think how it was affecting
Mother. She was trying to keep the rifle above water, but that was about all
she was able to help, relying on Jarrod to keep her afloat. Hearing the rise of
voices, Jarrod was afraid they’d be spotted soon and his eyes scanned the bank
for some sort of cover. The shouts grew louder and looking downstream, Jarrod
could see the shore open up and knew their time had run out. Spying a large
tree overhanging the bank he guided them to the exposed roots hoping to duck
under and hide for a while. The shadows and tangled mass of branches might
provide the cover they needed. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than the
alternative. The water was shallower
near shore but it was still up to his waist and taking the rifle from his
shivering mother, he whispered, “Get as far back in as you can.”
Victoria nodded and she used the roots to pull herself
inward and out of sight. Being bigger, Jarrod had a tougher time and the arrow
in his back made moving through the branches almost impossible. Every time it
hit something it sent shooting pains into his back and down his arm and he had
to fight to stay upright. Leaning heavily into a large root, he had to rest and
take several deep breaths just to keep from passing out. Even as cold as he
was, he found himself sweating from the pain. He must have stood too long,
because he was startled by his mother’s touch on his arm. Looking at her, he
could just barely make out her concerned features in the darkened underhang and he whispered desperately, “Pull it out.”
Seeing the agony he was in, Victoria steeled herself and
nodded as she reached for the arrow that jutted out of his shoulder. Squeezing
his arm for both comfort and to prepare him, she grabbed hold of the arrow as
close to his back as possible and pulled. When it didn’t budge, she shifted her
position and using both hands tried again. Again it refused to move and she
stopped when Jarrod hissed through clenched teeth, “Break it off!”
Trembling, his breathing shallow and fast, Jarrod pleaded
quietly in a voice fraught with pain, “Do it!”
Taking a deep breath, Victoria’s hands shook and tears
gathered in her eyes as she grabbed the base of the shaft and using her other
hand quickly snapped the wood in two. Jarrod bit down hard to keep from moaning
and his knees started to buckle. He somehow managed to grab a root to keep from
falling and after a few minutes he was able to think a little clearer. His arm
and back were throbbing unmercifully but at least he could follow his mother
further under the tangled mess without banging into everything. He gave her a reassuring pat and beckoned her
onward, “Go.”
“I need to stop the bleeding,” said his mother, worriedly.
Shaking his head, Jarrod shushed her, “Not now. We need to
hide.” As he gently gave her a push,
they both heard splashing water and needed no urging to get deeper into the
shadows. Victoria was guiding their movements by feeling the bank and her hand
suddenly found open space. Stopping, she limped closer and tried to determine
how large the dug out was. Finding it
several feet across and about three feet high, she waited for Jarrod to join
her. It only went back four feet or so, but it would be big enough to get them
out of the water and Jarrod helped her up and into the small alcove. Her whole
body was trembling from the cold and her foot was so numb that she couldn’t
even feel it anymore. Jarrod climbed up to sit beside her and drawing up his
knees used them to support himself as he slumped forward,
the pain suddenly weighing him down.
Reaching under her dress, Victoria tore away a piece of clothe to wrap
around the broken arrow protruding from Jarrod’s back. He flinched at her touch
and she spoke in a hushed tone, “I’m trying to stop some of the bleeding.”
She finished quickly and Jarrod admonished himself for
forgetting she was hurt too. He tried to shift himself around, but there was no
room to maneuver and every time he moved his left arm, the arrow imbedded in
his shoulder blade sent daggers through him. Finally he had to just let her see
to own injury as he kept an eye on the water beyond their hiding place. They
were so deep into the shadows that anyone looking in would see only darkness.
He, however, could see everything from where he sat. The shouts and splashing continued and Jarrod
pulled his mother close when a couple of the men approached the tree. They sat
perfectly still, barely breathing and Jarrod silently unholstered
his gun. The two braves surrounded the tree, moving closer as they tried to
peek through the mass of tangled roots. Lifting his side arm and taking aim at
the nearest warrior, Jarrod waited with bated breath.
The two young
warriors poked and prodded through the thick brush with their rifles but when
they heard no sounds from within they eventually gave up and moved on. Jarrod
let go the breath he didn’t know he was holding and heard his mother do the
same. It was more than an hour before he dared to make a sound, and then said
wearily, “I think we can breath again.”
Victoria smiled at her son’s attempt to lighten the
situation, “Do you think they’ll be back?” She also knew he was in a great deal
of pain, despite his effort to sound normal. He wasn’t one to whine about
things and in their present situation there was little that could be done. The best thing she could do was to wait until
he was ready to admit he needed help. Unlike her younger sons, Jarrod wasn’t so
stubborn that he wouldn’t tell the truth about his injuries.
“I don’t know. I’d heard the Modocs
were a relatively peaceful group.”
“Why would they just attack us then?”
“They looked pretty young. Could be some
young braves out to prove themselves. Only two or three of them had
rifles, the others were using bows.”
“How long are we going to stay here?”
Jarrod looked out of their hiding spot, “I think we should
stay here until morning. It’s already getting late. While it’s not the most
comfortable place, it’s dry and safe.”
Leaning into him, Victoria welcomed his embrace and
although the slightest movement caused him pain, she was on his good side and
he could hold her without too much discomfort.
There was no comfortable way to sit other than hunched forward, afraid
of leaning into anything with the arrow still in his back. “How’s your foot?”
“Just sprained. I think
the cold water actually helped keep the swelling down.” Victoria worried for
Jarrod and felt the guilt wash over her. “I’m sorry, Jarrod.”
“For what, Mother?”
“For putting you in this situation. You and
Nick were right. I should have waited. Now two people are dead and you’re hurt
because of my stubbornness.”
“Their deaths were not your fault. Father Sanchez was
coming whether you were or not. As to the driver, well... he knew the risks. No
one could have predicted how the Modocs were going to
act. We just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“I wish I’d listened to you,” said Victoria, her voice
breaking a bit as she bemoaned her stubbornness.
“Shh, it’s alright, Mother.”
“No it’s not. I forced you too take time from your work
and now you’ve been hurt.”
“You didn’t force me Mother. I wanted to go with you, it’s just that the timing wasn’t very good for me.”
Victoria knew her own shortsightedness over this trip had
caused some discord between her sons and she asked hesitantly, “Did you and Nick settle things?”
“No. It’s better to just let it go.”
“He knows your work is important to you. He just can’t see
that the ranch won’t fall apart without him.”
Jarrod sighed sadly at his mother’s words, “That’s just it
Mother. My work shouldn’t be important just to me. It would be nice if my work
weren’t thought of as something I do as a sideline to the legal work for the
family. Everything I do has to be for the ranch or it’s not important to him. I understand that the work at the ranch takes
precedence sometimes and I don’t mind helping. Is it too much to ask for the
same consideration for my own work? It’s my job and I take it very seriously. I
just wish Nick could be a little more understanding. He thinks I can leave my
work behind just because he says so.”
“Did you try to talk to him?”
“No, it seemed pointless at the time. He’d made up his
mind and you know how he gets.”
Victoria couldn’t help but smile. Nick was passionate
about everything he did, but stubbornness was his biggest fault. Jarrod was right of course. Once Nick set his
mind to something it was almost impossible to change his mind. Usually it had to blindside him to make him
see that his way wasn’t always the best way.
On the other hand, Jarrod didn’t always provide the information needed
to make for an easier settlement. Both men were guilty of holding onto their
stubbornness, but she could hardly criticize them for it, they came by it
honestly.
****************
It was late when Nick answered the door and he was
surprised to see a harried Mark standing on the porch, pacing nervously.
“What’s got you so fired up?”
“Sorry to bother you so late Nick, but I was wondering if
Jarrod left any more papers for me?”
Beckoning him to enter, Nick frowned, “Not that I know of.
We can look on his desk, maybe he left something there.”
Mark sighed as he followed Nick to the study, “I hope so
or this day just went from bad to worse.”
“Why’s that?” Mark’s concern was obvious and Nick wondered
what could be distressing him so. Usually the young lawyer was hard to faze.
“The trial Jarrod left me with isn’t going so well. The
judge dismissed a couple of pieces of evidence.”
“I thought Jarrod had it all laid out for you.”
Mark shook his head, “It’s not that simple, Nick. This was
Jarrod’s case, not mine. He spent the two days before he left just trying to
get me caught up with it. I’m sure he
could have fought against the dismissal but I just don’t have the background he
does. Now a man’s life is at stake.”
Nick paled and asked, “What are you talking about?” Jarrod hadn’t mentioned the specifics... but
then he hadn’t really asked.
“Didn’t he tell you?”
“Tell me what?” Nick was frustrated by the lack of
information, both from Mark and his brother.
“It’s a murder trial. The judge wouldn’t postpone it like
the others.” Nick had never really
considered that Jarrod couldn’t just hand his work over to someone else and
have them take over. A lawyer was a
lawyer, it didn’t matter who did the work? Did it? Well that wasn’t true, Nick
knew that. Jarrod’s prowess as a lawyer
had turned the tide on many a case and Nick sadly shook his head at his
indifference to his brother’s work. It’s not that he didn’t care about Jarrod’s
work, it was more that it just didn’t interest him. He
was more worried about the ranch than what was going on in town and who was
taking whom to court. Not that Jarrod
was blameless. His brother was notorious for keeping things close to the vest and
the family was seldom privy to what he was working on. Nick had pushed him and Jarrod’s sense of
responsibility to family had superseded his work. It wasn’t the first time
they’d butted heads over who was responsible for what. This time however, Nick
had to admit that Jarrod’d had every right to hold
his ground. If Mark lost the case, then it was Jarrod’s client that would pay
the ultimate price and his brother would never forgive himself. Disheartened,
Nick realized he would have to bear a share of that burden.
“Well why the devil not?” shouted Nick.
“This one is with Judge Peters. Him
and Jarrod aren’t exactly on the best of terms since Jarrod cited law in the
man’s face at the last trial.”
Nick looked at mark with a wry grin on his face, “Harry
Peters you say?”
Mark was puzzled by Nick’s question, “Yeah, why?”
Slapping the unsuspecting man in the chest, Nick beamed,
“You keep looking for whatever it is ya need. I’m gonna go see if I can get
that postponement for ya.”
Rubbing the spot on his chest, Mark wondered out loud,
“How are you going do that? Jarrod used up all his favors just to get the other
cases postponed.”
“Never you mind. This is between
him and me. I guarantee you’ll have that postponement or my name ain’t Nick
Barkley.”
*************
Awaking sometime in the middle of the night Jarrod tried
to straighten and forgetting for a moment where he was, instantly regretted his
lapse of memory. Groaning, he grabbed his shoulder and rocked back and forth in
pain. Even breathing was painful and it took several careful breaths before the
pain became tolerable. Victoria was startled awake and even though she couldn’t
see the pain he was in, she could hear his labored breathing and felt him
trembling next to her. She kept her voice low as she wrapped her arm around his
waist, “We need to get it out.”
“You tried, remember?”
As much pain as he was in, the thought of her removing the broken arrow
wasn’t something he wanted to consider. At least for the moment the pain was
bearable.
“I need to try again or it’s going to fester in there.”
Jarrod knew she was right, the chances of avoiding
infection were already slim considering the length of time he’d been carrying
it. Leaning forward onto his knees and wrapping his arms around his legs, he
tried to brace himself for the coming pain. “Alright, Mother. See if you can pull it out.”
“Let me get a bit of cloth ready. I’m afraid that once I
get it out it’s going to start bleeding again.”
Again Jarrod nodded as he listened to her tear away her
petticoat. The arrow was acting as a plug but as soon as it was removed the
bleeding was bound to start again. Victoria leaned close and asked
apprehensively, “Are you ready? I’m sorry, Jarrod. This is going to hurt.”
With a slight waver, Jarrod answered, “I know, Mother.
Let’s get it over with.”
Victoria took a deep breath and letting it out slowly,
reached for the arrow. It was almost too short to grip with two hands and
Jarrod clenched his teeth against the agony that ripped through him as she
tried to get a firm hold on it. Bracing herself against his side, she pulled
with all her strength and still it refused to budge. Jarrod was trying to remain still, but he
couldn’t stop from crying out as she forced it from side to side in an attempt
to loosen it from the bone it was firmly imbedded in. Victoria agonized right along with him and
she tightened her hold. Taking a deep breath and drew every ounce of strength
she had to give it one final tug. As
quickly as it went in, it was yanked from his flesh. Fire and pain exploded in Jarrod’s shoulder
and before he could utter a sound, his eyes rolled back in his head and he went
limp. The sudden release of the arrow
was enough to throw Victoria off balance and she landed on her backside.
Unfortunately, when the arrow came free, the force she was using to remove it was
suddenly transferred to Jarrod and she sat in horror as he fell off their small
ledge and all she heard was the loud splash as he hit the water.
Scrambling after him, it was impossible to see anything in
the darkness and she cried out for her oldest, “Jarrod!”
Dropping into the water, Victoria ignored the jarring her
foot took and grabbed for any part of Jarrod she could reach and pulled him
upward. As his head broke the surface, he tried to breath but all he could
manage was to sputter and cough up the water that had gotten into his lungs.
Disoriented and in pain, he gasped for air and felt the coldness of the water
seeping into his trembling body and he wondered how he’d ended up here. Feeling
arms tugging at him, he cried out at the pain in his back and suddenly it all
came back to him. He tried to stand in the waist deep water but his legs didn’t
seem to want to hold him up and he slumped back into the water. His mother’s
arms tightened around him once more and she spoke urgently, “Please Jarrod. I
need you to help.”
Victoria let the natural buoyancy of the water help
support Jarrod as she guided him out of their safe haven. Feeling a warmness cover her hand, it was a
sharp contrast to the cold water and it took a moment for her to realize it was
Jarrod’s blood she was feeling. As they cleared the roots, she wasted no time
dragging him to shore. Jarrod was trying to help, but the combination of pain,
cold and blood loss were taking their toll and it was all he could do just to
stay conscious. As the water shallowed closer to
shore, Victoria struggled to help Jarrod who was practically crawling now,
“We’re almost there, just a little farther.”
Jarrod looked towards shore and could just make out the
edge in the waning moonlight. Grabbing his shoulder, he tried standing again
and only his mother’s strong grip kept him upright. He shook his head, hoping to clear the
dizziness but it only made it worse and he stumbled the last few feet to shore,
collapsing in a heap. Victoria limped to
his side and grabbing for her skirt, quickly tore away more of her undergarment
for Jarrod’s back. Hearing his labored breathing, Victoria’s hands shook with
fear as she felt for the wound on his back. Still bleeding heavily, he groaned
as she held the cloth to the open cut and pressed firmly. “I’m sorry son, I need to stop the bleeding.”
Trying to roll away from the agony in his back only
intensified the pain and he lost whatever fight he had left as the darkness
claimed him. Panicking for a moment,
Victoria could hear the slight rattle of his chest and sighed with relief that
at least he was still breathing. Increasing the pressure on his shoulder now
that he could feel no pain, Victoria shivered from the cold that soaked her
clothes and went bone deep. Afraid to
start a fire, she draped her small frame over her sons hoping it would warm
them both and waited for the morning sun.
Exhaustion caught up with her and as the sun peeked over the horizon,
its early rays found them both sound asleep.
Out in the woods, someone else felt the sun’s warmth as he
moved stealthy through the brush. There were a few of his friends that tried to
tell him he would only cause more trouble but he was young and foolish, anxious
to make a name for himself and become a man. He was tired of being thought of
as a child simply because his people no longer had the means to celebrate the
old ways. This would show them all and
he hurried towards the river, intent on picking up the trail the warriors had
abandoned the day before.
*******
Jarrod woke to the sound of his mother calling his name
and he slowly made his way to consciousness. It was painful and he wanted to go
back to his peaceful slumber. “Wake up, son!” His mother’s voice was persistent
and years of training called him from sleep.
“Hmm?” As he tried to roll over,
Victoria placed a firm hand on his back.
“Stay put for a bit Jarrod. I want to change that
bandage.” He needed no convincing to stay as he was. The pain from moving was
enough to keep him motionless as his mother removed the soiled bandage and
replaced it with a clean one. Helping
him to sit up, he swayed and felt his stomach roll over. It took a couple of
breaths to rid him of both the dizziness and nausea while Victoria held the
bandage on his back. “I need your belt.”
“My
belt?” Even as he questioned her, he unbuckled it and tried to remove
it.
“I want to use it to hold this in place,” responded
Victoria. Seeing him struggle with the belt, she reached down and deftly
removed it and added softly. “Can you hold this while I wrap this around it?”
Jarrod did as instructed and Victoria wrapped the belt
over the bandage and looped it under his opposite arm. His broad shoulders made
it a tight fit, but she managed to place it high enough on his upper arm to
hold not only the bandage in place but also restrict movement to his shoulder.
Sweat poured from him as she worked and he hissed out loud, “That’s good. Stop!”
Patting his good arm gently, she spoke with a soft
reassurance, “I’m done. Do you think you can move to the water? You’ve lost a
lot of blood and you need to drink.”
Between breaths, Jarrod answered, “Give...me...a
...minute.” His shoulder throbbed to the
beat of his heart and the pain radiated down his arm and back. He didn’t want
to think about moving, but his thirst drove him to the water’s edge. Slaking his thirst, he felt a little better
and asked his mother as she knelt at his side, “How is your foot this morning?”
“Not as sore, but it’s going to slow us down.”
Jarrod flashed her a small smile, “I doubt you’ll slow me down, Mother. Not today.”
“Do you have any idea what direction we need to go?”
“Not really, I figure if we head downstream, we’re bound
to run into something.”
Just as Jarrod made it to his feet, a figure shot out of
the brush and he barely had time to push Victoria out of the way, before taking
the brunt of the attack. Landing hard on the ground, Jarrod’s back exploded in
a flash of agonizing pain and he reached upward with his good arm to stop the
knife descending on him. Adrenalin fueling him, he grabbed the young brave’s
wrist, trying to focus on the face that loomed above him as he fought for his
life. As his vision cleared he realized his assailant was a mere boy, no more
than fifteen. Through the fog of pain,
Jarrod thought how easy it would have been to subdue the boy if he had two good
arms. As it was, he was fighting to hold off the knife the youngster was
brandishing and still remain conscious.
Using his larger frame, he shifted his weight and rolled over so he was
above the boy. Twisting his wrist, Jarrod waited until the boy had no choice
but to release the knife, which Victoria removed from his reach.
The boy’s eyes widened at the loss of his weapon. He was
even more startled when Jarrod slid off of him and he was no longer restrained. Rubbing his aching wrist, he stared at the
strangers. The man was obviously hurt, his eyes glazed over in pain as he sat
staring at him. The other one, the
woman, knelt beside the man muttering words he couldn’t hear. The man kept her
behind him despite her protests. His
eyes darted towards the bushes and escape, but as soon as he moved the man had
his pistol out. He slowly sat back down, keeping the fear he was feeling from showing,
especially as he watched the man’s hand trembling. The gray haired woman gently covered the
man’s hand and lowered the weapon.
Looking at both of them in confusion, his youthful curiosity couldn’t be
contained, “Why you no kill me?”
Jarrod looked up, his face bathed in sweat from their
fight and he shook his head, “You’re just a boy.”
Stiffening his posture, the boy bristled, “This make me man!”
Dismayed with the attitude of the young brave, Jarrod
sighed, “Killing does not make you a man. A true man knows when not to
kill.” The boy crossed his arms angrily,
but Jarrod could see he had his attention so he continued wearily, “If you had
killed us, it only would have brought more trouble for your people.”
“Your people bring trouble!”
Victoria knelt behind Jarrod, replacing the bandage once
again and piped up, “We were on our way to set up a mission to help your
people.”
Snarling at them, the boy hissed, “Force your god on us. That not helping!”
“It is more than that,” insisted Victoria.
“Humph... Don’t need your god. Want our land, our
freedom.”
Jarrod sighed heavily. The boy was justified in his anger,
but progress was taking over land and resources. Most people were so ignorant about Indians
that they saw nothing wrong with displacing them for the rich land they held. Even
the government had swindled the Indians in the past and no doubt would continue
to do so into the future until people were made aware of the injustice that had
been served the natives of this country. The Indian agents were often ignorant
of the people they were supposedly trying to help and the system perpetuated
itself, sending the Indians from one piece of land to another until they either
died or were too engrained into white man’s culture to go back to their
ancestral way of life. The Indians either had to buckle to white man’s way or find
themselves on the wrong side of the law.
While the Modocs saw nothing wrong with
defending their homeland, the government did and conflict was imminent. Looking at the young man, he felt sorry for
him, “If your people continue to fight, they will lose.”
“We fight!”
Jarrod spoke, his voice sad, “And you’ll die. You have
your whole life ahead of you. Find a way to make something of it. Don’t be
another warrior that dies for a hopeless cause.” Exhausted and hurting, Jarrod
blinked back the darkness, hoping to maintain his advantage.
The boy could see the sincerity in the white man’s face
and it surprised him. He’d been taught that all white men were bad and yet this
one had not only let him live but was trying to talk to him as if he were
somebody, not just an Indian. He watched
the man carefully and could see there was no threat in these people. They had
no animosity towards him or his people and it was a shock to his fragile world.
He waited and watched knowing escape was within his grasp. He could go and
leave them to their own lives while he found a way to live with his newest
feelings. Maybe he could make a difference in his own life, even if his people
were destined for a life so different from all they had ever known. When the man finally lost his battle with his
pain, the young boy dashed for freedom, wondering if he would ever truly be
free again.
Victoria shook him awake, worried the boy would bring more warriors, “Jarrod, we need to get moving. He may come back.”
“He won’t be coming back,” whispered Jarrod, barely able to find his voice. He lay on his back, looking skyward knowing he should be moving but wondering if he had the strength. No food was wearing him down as much as his injury and blood loss, but staying where they were wasn’t really an option. As much as he wanted to believe the boy wouldn’t be back with reinforcements, he couldn’t be sure. With his mother’s help he got to his feet and fought to stay upright. It was going to be a long day.
Chapter 5
By midafternoon, Jarrod was following Victoria blindly. He was in his own little world of pain and fever. His clothes were soaked in sweat as the heat burned from the inside out and he shivered uncontrollably as he stumbled after her. Just putting one foot in front of the other was almost too much effort. Victoria stayed close to the river, afraid to venture too far from their only source of water. Her foot was much worse than it had been that morning, but she limped along, unworried she was slowing them down. Jarrod was barely keeping up as it was. She made sure they stopped every hour to make him drink and to check his bandage. The bleeding had finally stopped, but he had lost precious fluids both to blood loss and fever. He was noticeably pale and his breathing had worsened throughout the day. There would be no going on once they stopped for the day. Although she hated to see him suffering, she needed to get as much distance as possible out of him in the event they were being followed. Each time they stopped it was harder to get moving again. By the time the sun was on the horizon, Victoria could no longer bear to make her son rise and sitting on the shore with his head in her lap, she let him rest.
The heat was oppressive, his throat so dry he couldn’t even voice his discomfort. Oblivious to all else, he crawled to the water intent on slacking his thirst when his mother appeared at his side to help him drink. The cool water soothed the dryness in his throat, but it was followed by a barking cough that sent fire into his shoulder. Rolling onto his side, he tried to take a deep breath, but it only brought more coughing and more pain. The muscles in his neck corded tight as he clenched his teeth against the agony.
Victoria rested a hand on his arm and rubbed it gently, “You have a fever son and I’m afraid all the water you swallowed has gotten into your lungs. Try and take smaller breaths.”
Nodding slowly, Jarrod spoke in a raspy breath, “Hot.”
“I know. Let me see if I can cool you down.” Soaking a cloth in the water she used it to ease the heat that emanated from him in waves. His face was flush and a two-day growth of beard only added to his haggard appearance. Opening his shirt, she wiped him down as best she could and was thankful when he slipped back into a more restful sleep. She continued her ministrations long after he was asleep, afraid of the fever that was raging through him.
It was much later when Jarrod woke again and in a moment of delirium, insisted they move on. Even in his weakened condition, Victoria could neither stop him nor convince him to stay put. Her only option was to follow after him as he staggered through the trees, wincing in pain as she tried to keep up with him. He stumbled several times but in his delirium he refused to stop and Victoria finally tried calling after him, “Jarrod! Please stop!”
Her voice seemed to penetrate the fog and he turned to look back at her. Changing direction, he rejoined her then took her arm and began pulling her along with him, “Have to keep going...”
Victoria tried to resist the tug on her arm, tears gathering in her eyes as she pleaded, “You need to rest, son!”
Jarrod shook his head, “No! Have to keep you safe.” He started forward but stopped in his tracks, shaking his head to clear the apparition in front of him. When that didn’t work, he instinctively placed himself between the brave and his mother.
Recognizing the youth even if Jarrod didn’t, Victoria asked warily, “Why are you following us?”
Pointing at Jarrod, the boy they’d encountered yesterday smiled wryly, “He get you lost.” Turning, he headed sideways and beckoned them to follow, “This way.”
The boy led them to a shallow spot in the river that he crossed easily, only stopping when they were on the other side. He helped settle Jarrod, who was once more compliant, and spoke firmly to Victoria, “You stay here. I come back.”
Before Victoria could protest the young man was gone, only to return a short time later with his hands full. Setting everything on the ground beside Jarrod he began by rolling him onto his side. He carefully removed the bandage then opened one of the large leaves he brought with him, revealing a paste of some sort. Victoria wasn’t sure what it was, but something told her she could trust him and she watched him slather it over the wound in Jarrod’s back. Jarrod flinched, but didn’t wake and the boy covered it with a fresh piece of rawhide before wrapping the belt around it again. He looked up at Victoria and seeing her concern, spoke softly, “Help heal. Take fire away.”
Victoria nodded her understanding and smiled, “Thank you for helping us.”
The boy blushed and ducked his head then grabbed up another leaf package he’d brought and handed it to her, “You eat.” Victoria opened it and found several handfuls of blackberries. Her eyes never beheld anything so delicious looking and she smiled her thanks. She ate slowly, not sure how her stomach would handle something after going so long without food, then set aside half for Jarrod. The boy picked up the berries and handed them back to her as he stood up he issued a firm command, “Eat! I get more.” Victoria ate, smiling as the boy disappeared into the woods. He seemed to take a certain pride in being able to help and she wondered if he’d had much interaction with white man before. He’d obviously been following them, but had chosen to remain hidden until Jarrod had taken off in the wrong direction. Maybe things were finally looking up and he would see them to safety.
Upon his return, Chee-wa-kis checked the man. He’d waited too long maybe. A whole day he’d followed them, several times fighting the urge to step in and help. When the man took off, taking them away from those searching, his conscience took over. They’d spared his life and he owed them. It would still be a few hours before the Army found them but he knew they would, he’d left a trail his youngest sister could follow. He stayed silent, his words not good enough to carry on a real conversation. He could understand the white man English but he was still learning to speak it. Some day he would speak it well, he’d have to if he were going to survive in the white man’s world. His people were a small band, and already they were losing their old ways to this new world. They relied on the white man for the money they could make selling their wares, which subsidized the food they could no longer provide for themselves. They even answered to the name of Modoc, a white man name for Maklaks, what they called themselves. Now the white man wanted them to go live on a reservation and they were making a final stand in the lava beds.
He and his friends had heard about what happened with the people on the stage and they had dared him to sneak out and prove he was man enough to face the white man. His intent hadn’t been to kill, but his anger had gotten the better of him and he’d let his emotions rule his actions yesterday. Now he was trying to redeem himself by doing what was right. In only two short days he’d found more truth than he had ever known and he wished he’d had done the honorable thing and stayed at camp to protect his own family instead of going on a fool’s journey.
The white woman interrupted his thoughts as she cooled the man down, “Do you have a name?”
“Chee-wa-kis,” he answered proudly. He pointed to her and asked in return, “Name?”
“Victoria...Victoria Barkley.” Gesturing to Jarrod as he lay with his head in her lap, she added with a waver in her voice, “This is my son Jarrod. Do you know how far we are from help? I’m afraid he isn’t going to last much longer without a doctor.” Jarrod’s breathing was audible to both of them as he struggled to get more air into his clogged lungs.
“Army comes, be here soon. They help,” said Chee-wa-kis, reassuringly.
Victoria brightened, but looked puzzled, “Why are you suddenly helping us?”
Pointing to himself, Chee-wa-kis answered, “You let me live...” He pointed to her and Jarrod, “I let you live.”
Shaking her head in astonishment, Victoria looked at him and said with genuine sincerity, “You are an honorable young man.”
“I do not feel so honorable.”
“Why do you say that? Look at all you’ve done for us when you could have easily walked away.”
“I should never have come in first place.”
The boy was clearly distraught and Victoria couldn’t help but find a way to ease his troubled mind. “I suppose you could look at it that way. However, if you hadn’t come along, we would still be a day and a half back looking for the Army that you say is on it’s way. I’d like to think you’ve been a help to us.”
Watching him, Victoria could see that despite his desire to be a man the little boy in him still needed reassurances and he was easily swayed by her encouraging words. Jumping to his feet, he grinned at her, “I help more. Bring Army faster. You wait.”
Victoria called out as he ran off, “Chee-wa-kis!” He ignored her and she smiled warmly at his exuberance. It faded quickly when Jarrod began coughing to clear his throat and he cried out at the pain that couldn’t be contained. It took several attempts to clear the gathering mucous enough to catch his breath and he slumped back to the ground exhausted but at least his breathing wasn’t so raspy as he dropped off to sleep.
It was another hour before Chee-wa-kis showed back up, panting for air as he pointed in the direction he’d come from, “They here now. I go.”
He turned to leave, and Victoria grabbed for his slender arm, “Chee-wa-kis wait. Please let us help you. I won’t let them hurt you. I don’t want to see you get hurt if you go back.”
Chee-wa-kis shook his head, “Go to my people.” He flashed her a cocky adolescent grin, “I not die.” He squared his shoulders and pointed to his own chest as he added, “I live to be somebody my people proud of.”
Victoria muttered quietly at his retreating form, “I know you will be. Good luck Chee-wa-kis.”
Chapter 6
Nick paced back and forth across the open area bivouac, stopping now and then to scan the horizon. He’d arrived too late to join the search party and now all he could do was wait and hope. The wire told him that the stage had wrecked and his mother and brother were missing. Arriving this morning, the soldier in charge had informed him that the search party was still out looking for the survivors. Word had filtered back to camp that the Army was on the trail of at least two passengers. Already three days had passed since the Indians had attacked the stage and Nick couldn’t ease the dread of not knowing how or where his family was. He wanted to ride out and look for himself, but the Army refused to grant him access to a horse. There was no way they could risk sending him out alone without an escort and all the men the Captain could spare were out looking for his mother and brother anyway. So he paced. When he wasn’t pacing he was annoying the Sergeant for more information.
It was well into the afternoon, when shouts roused him from sleep. He shook himself awake and bounded to his feet, anxious to find out what had the camp so excited. Finding the Sergeant, he grabbed him on the way by and asked, “What’s going on?”
Smiling, the Sergeant informed him, “They found ‘em.” Pointing off in the distant at the cloud of dust, he added, “They’re bringing them in.”
Nick’s heart raced and he asked excitedly, “Got a horse I can borrow?”
Nodding his head, the man pointed towards the corrals, “Go talk to the Lieutenant, he’ll get you a mount.”
Twenty minutes later, Nick was riding toward the column of riders anxious to intercept them, and at the same time concerned about what he would find. The only information he could get from any one was that his mother and brother were alive. Beyond that, they could tell him nothing and he hurried toward the wagon at the back of the column terrified at what he would find. As he edged closer, he could see his mother’s silver hair as she sat in the wagon and he sighed with relief, only to realize seconds later that Jarrod wasn’t in sight. Riding parallel with the wagon, he called out, “Mother!”
Turning sharply at the familiar voice, she reached out her hand to him, “Oh Nick!” He could see how distraught she was and it only added to his own anxiety. Looking over the edge of the wagon all he could see was Jarrod’s face as he lay on his side. He was terribly pale and even from a distance Nick could hear his brother’s labored breathing as his mother attempted to cool him down.
Tears gathering in his eyes, he glanced at his mother and saw the fear reflected in her eyes, “Mother? How is he?”
Nick’s presence was the strength she needed. No longer able to contain the anguish, tears spilled over as she shook her head, “He took an arrow in his back and I think he’s got pneumonia from a fall in the river. He’s in bad shape, Nick.”
Taking his foot from the stirrup, he lifted it over the wagon and carefully dismounted next to his mother. Dropping down beside Jarrod, his hand reached out to touch his brother’s ashen face. He pulled back at the heat that scorched his skin, “He’s burning up!” Taking the cloth from Victoria’s hand he soaked it in cool water from the canteen and took over his brother’s care without thought. His motions were gentle and thorough, his concern for Jarrod evident as he muttered soft reassurances as he worked. Victoria watched through half-lidded eyes, the exhaustion of the last few days catching up with her. As Nick worked to cool Jarrod he spoke with her, “What happened Mother?”
Victoria related the events of the last three days and Nick shook his head as she finished, “I should’ve gone.”
“Then you would be lying here instead of Jarrod,” said Victoria, solemnly.
“I made him go. I shoulda been the one to go, not him.” His hands trembled as he continued Jarrod’s care and Victoria reached across to caress his arm.
“I was the one who should have listened.” She hesitated a moment, then added, “None of this would have happened if I hadn’t been so stubborn. You two wouldn’t have argued and he wouldn’t have felt like his work means so little. It’s important to him.”
Nick sighed, “I know that, Mother.” He rubbed his face, “I just let the ranch take over sometimes, cause that’s what’s important ta me. That don’t mean his work ain’t important.”
“Maybe you need to tell him that.”
Nodding, Nick ducked his head and his eyes misted over. He hoped he’d have a chance to tell Jarrod just how proud he was of him. His thoughts were interrupted by their arrival in camp and Jarrod was hustled into the infirmary. Helping Victoria from the wagon, they headed after him but Nick stopped her when he noticed her limping. “You’re hurt!”
“It’s nothing Nick. I just twisted my foot.” Nick frowned and despite her protests picked her up and carried her the rest of the way. He called out as he entered and set her on the bed nearest Jarrod, “My mother hurt her foot. Can somebody take a look at it?” The doctor was busy with Jarrod but his corpsman took over Victoria’s care and her foot was examined and bound to restrict its movement. She was barely aware of her own care as she worried over Jarrod.
Time passed slowly and it was heartbreaking to see Jarrod trying to suck air into his lungs with every breath he took. Nick never left his side and was there whenever Jarrod tried to cough away the foul substance clogging his airway. It was painful for both of them when Nick had to pound his brother’s back just to keep him alive. Jarrod clung to Nick each time the panic subsided and relied on him for strength. The bond they’d always shared made words unnecessary as Nick willed him to fight for every breath. As hard as she tried, Victoria was only able to get Nick to rest a couple hours each day and after four days of nonstop care, she was relieved to see Jarrod begin to show signs of recovery.
On that fourth day, Jarrod was lucid enough to carry
on short conversations whenever he woke and Nick finally felt comfortable
enough to leave him and get some much needed sleep. Two days later they borrowed a wagon and were
headed home. Jarrod slept a great deal of the time and Nick found little time
to talk to his older brother regarding their misunderstanding. For now it was enough to just have him back
and he promised himself it would keep for when Jarrod was better.
Once they returned home, Jarrod fretted over work until Nick told him that he’d taken care of the postponement. Jarrod tilted his head curiously, “What do you mean you took care of it, brother Nick?”
Nick planted his hands on his hips and smiled, “I took care of it. Judge Peters was more than happy to grant you your postponement once I explained the situation.”
Jarrod frowned, knowing his younger brother too well, “Blackmail is illegal, Nick.”
“Now who says I blackmailed him? “ said Nick indignantly. His smile however gave him away and he blurted out, “I just passed on a little rumor I heard. Course it ain’t my fault them girls at the saloon love ta gossip so much.”
Rolling his eyes, Jarrod sighed, “How am I supposed to get fair and impartial treatment from a judge you’ve blackmailed Nick?”
Walking to the sideboard to pour a drink, Nick answered nonchalantly, “Don’t you worry none Jarrod, I made him promise to play nice.”
Jarrod just shook his head, wondering what possessed his brother sometimes. “Well I don’t necessarily agree with your methods, but I can’t really argue with the end results if it gives my client another chance.”
Nick still felt guilty over his brother’s injuries, knowing they could have been prevented if he’d fought against his mother going instead of insisting Jarrod accompany her. Jarrod still looked drawn from his bout with pneumonia and his left arm and shoulder were bound tight to his chest to aid in healing the arrow wound. It still caused Jarrod a lot of pain and Doc Merar suspected the bone had been cracked where the arrow had stuck to it. Nick handed him a drink as he spoke, “Jarrod, I’m sorry about makin’ ya go.”
“Forget it Nick. It’s over.” Jarrod sipped the drink, savoring the taste as it burned it’s way to his stomach.
“No, I was wrong ta make you give up your work. I just forget sometimes that the ranch ain’t the only thing going sometimes. I’m proud of what ya do, I just...well it just don’t interest me like ranchin’ does. That don’t mean I don’t think it’s important.”
“Well I’m as much to blame as you are, I don’t always tell you what’s going on. I get stubborn and dig my feet in.” Jarrod looked at Nick and grinned, “Kind of like someone else I know.”
Nick laughed out loud, “You do have the Barkley stubbornness, I’ll give you that, big brother.” Kidding aside, Nick spoke sincerely, “How ‘bout I promise to listen better next time?”
Jarrod smiled warmly and stuck out his hand, “And I’ll try being a little more open. Deal?”
Taking the offered hand, Nick shook it enthusiastically, “Deal!” Jarrod winced in pain and Nick cringed, “Sorry, Jarrod. Why don’t you get some rest and I’ll have Silas bring you somethin’ ta eat. You could use some fillin’ out there.”
Carefully leaning back into the settee, Jarrod nodded, “Sounds like an excellent idea.” It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep and Nick watched him sleep for several minutes before he happily snuck away to look after all the duties he’d neglected in his absence. Heath was still laid up from his fight with a bronc and Doc refused to even let him out of his room for another week. It added to his work, but somehow none of it seemed as important as it had a week ago.
Epilogue
It was late when Jarrod arrived home from town. He’d finished up another trial and after a celebratory drink with his client he’d gone back to the office to finalize some paperwork and found the courage to open the file he’d requested several days ago. He’d read in the paper and the town was full of talk about the end of the Modoc War up north. The Army finally succeeded in overtaking the Modoc stronghold in the lava beds and 165 Indians were transferred to a Quapaw Reservation in Oklahoma territory. At his mother’s request he’d made some inquiries and he arrived home that night with a heavy heart.
Making his way to his mother’s room, he knocked softly, hoping perhaps she might be asleep. “Come in.”
With a deep breath he entered and kissed her cheek as he sat at the edge of her bed. “Evening Mother.”
Putting down the book she’d been reading, Victoria noted his worn look, “You look tired, son.”
Jarrod patted her hand, “I’m fine, Mother.”
“What is it you aren’t saying?”
“I did as you asked and sent out some inquiries. I received the news back today.”
Victoria looked at him again and closed her eyes against the threatening tears, “He didn’t make it did he?”
Jarrod solemnly shook his head, and pulled her into a tight embrace as she cried for such a senseless loss. A boy fighting to become a man had been caught in a battle he couldn’t win.
"It is true we have killed many white men.
The Modoc guns are sure. But hear me, of muck-a-lux
(my people)! The white men are many. They will come again. No matter how many
the Modocs kill, more will come. We will all be
killed in the end." ~Captain Jack.
THE END