Aftermath

A/N: Thanks to everyone reading and following along. Please remember, if you have comments, they are appreciated!

“Hey, Jarrod, why don’t you come into town with us tonight?”

Icy fingers squeezed Jarrod’s stomach as he looked up from his barely-touched dinner to the brother who’d just spoken.

“Play a few hands of cards, have a couple drinks,” Nick continued. “Heath, what do you think?”

“Sounds good, Nick,” Heath agreed. “What do you say, big brother? You haven’t been out with us since you got back.”

Jarrod forced a bite of mashed potatoes in his mouth to avoid answering. Vividly remembering when he’d gone to Stockton a couple days ago, it was all he could do to choke down the mouthful of food.


He rode to town, wanting to check in at his office. He’d stayed close to home the previous week as he tried to rest and recover from his ordeal but knew he had to get back to work and try to get on with his life.

He felt his stomach churn as he got into town and the press of people, the stares of passers-by, almost undid him. Were they staring at him because they could somehow see his shame? That man walking across the street, should he run and get away before he was attacked? Jarrod knew his thoughts were irrational, but his hands were shaking as he tethered Jingo to the rail and he was drenched in sweat by the time his fumbling fingers unlocked the door to his office and quickly locked it behind him. He spent the next two hours huddled in the far corner, unable to move, reliving what had happened to him in that barn outside Knight’s Ferry. He’d eventually been able to fight back the paralysis and get outside, get on his horse and ride for home to spend the rest of the day shut up in his room, unable to regain even enough composure to face dinnertime with the family.


He really didn’t want to go into town, but as he glanced at the faces around the table, he saw them trying to hide their expressions of worry and concern. Jarrod forced a smile. “Sounds like a good idea, boys.” Maybe it would be easier with his brothers by his side.

But it wasn’t. Jarrod started sweating as soon as they walked into the saloon. The place wasn’t overly crowded, but Jarrod felt as though all eyes were on him.

“Hey, Harry, bring us a bottle, will you?” Nick called as they made their way to an empty table. Jarrod tried not to be too obvious as he grabbed the seat facing the door. He forced his hand away from the butt of his pistol that was now holstered on his left hip and firmly placed it on his thigh instead. Taking a deep breath, he lifted the glass Nick poured for him and was relieved that the shaking in his hand wasn’t overtly noticeable. He took a big gulp and set it carefully back down.

He tried to control his breathing, resorting to old courtroom tricks he used to keep himself poised and in control through difficult cases. He didn’t say anything as Nick and Heath exchanged small talk with some of the other ranchers who stopped by their table, he just made himself smile and nod in greeting. Jarrod gulped back the rest of the whiskey in his glass and the bottle slipped as he attempted to lift it with his still-damaged right hand to pour a refill.

Heath’s quick reflexes grabbed the bottle before it could fall. “Let me help you with that, Jarrod,” he said and poured Jarrod a large measure of the amber liquid. Jarrod could feel his face flush with the humiliation of needing help to pour himself a drink.

“Thanks, Heath,” he mumbled and wiped his sweaty palm on his pants.

Nick regaled them with the story of what had happened that day. Heath chuckled at the description the ranch foreman being trapped by an irate bull, having to take refuge in a tree until Nick and a couple others were able to rope the beast to drag him away from the treed man. Jarrod tried to join in the laughter, but he wasn’t really able to concentrate on his brother’s story. He tried not to be too obvious as he watched the room and jumped when a hand slipped though his hair.

“Well, hey, Jarrod honey, it’s been a while.”

Jarrod forced his panic under control and looked into the sultry green eyes of the woman standing behind him. “I guess I’ve been busy, Rose,” he apologized as he gave her a forced smile.

The redhead leaned over and brushed her hands across his chest as she whispered in his ear, “I’m sure you could make it up to me.”

Jarrod took a deep breath and willed himself to stay calm. He was in no danger, this was Frisco Rose, one of the most talented courtesans Stockton had to offer and he’d partaken of her charms on more than one occasion. Maybe that was what he needed, Jarrod thought as he felt a slight stirring in his manhood through the tension. A good roll in the hay with a beautiful woman to make him feel like a man again.

“Well, if you’re free…” Jarrod forced down his unease as Rose smiled at him and took his arm as he got to his feet. Jarrod gave his brothers a wink. “Excuse me, boys,” and he followed Rose up the stairs.

Once the door was shut, Jarrod wasted no time in first removing Rose’s clothing and then his pants. He pulled her close and his tongue probed and plundered her mouth. He could feel his manhood start to harden until Rose slid her hands down and grabbed his buttocks. A wave of panic surged through him and Jarrod’s erection withered as he pulled back abruptly.

What was he thinking? He was no kind of man anymore. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t pleasure a woman even if what she actually felt was pleasure. After being penetrated himself, he would never forget the searing agony. How could he imagine he’d never bring a partner pain? Besides, the hands roaming over him that brought so much enjoyment in the past now only made his skin crawl and he despaired of ever being able to feel that kind of passion again.

“I’m sorry, Rose,” Jarrod mumbled hastily to the surprised woman as he pulled on his pants and fastened the buttons as quickly as he could. “I have to go.” He tossed some money on the dresser before leaving the room and forced himself not to bolt down the stairs as he headed for his horse to ride for the sanctuary of home.

Jarrod tried to be inconspicuous as he left, but Heath’s sharp eyes saw him slip down the stairs and outside. He nudged Nick.

“Nick, Jarrod’s leaving,” he said. “I’m gonna go after him and see if I can get him to talk to me.”

Nick downed his drink. “I’ll come with you.”

“Reckon you should stay put,” Heath advised. “I don’t think I’ll be telling you anything you don’t know when I say our big brother’s not doing too well. Maybe if I can get him to stop long enough to talk, I can help him out.” He didn’t say it, but knew Nick would hear the unspoken words, that Heath’s experiences in Carterson might be able to help Jarrod deal with what happened in Knight’s Ferry if only Jarrod would give him a chance.

Nick nodded reluctantly. “Okay, Heath.”

Heath gave him a lopsided grin as he got to his feet. “Don’t forget to pay for the drinks,” he teased as he left.

Jingo was gone from the rail where he had been tethered beside Charger and Heath swung into the bay’s saddle. He was pretty sure Jarrod would have headed home and turned his horse in the direction of the ranch.

The ride home went past Jarrod in a blur. He just needed to get away and wondered if he should keep riding. Just keep going and not have to constantly worry that his family would discover his shame or see the expressions on their faces when they looked at him. He recalled the pity in his mother’s eyes that morning as he tried to sign his name to a business contract and felt a flush of humiliation at the barely legible scrawl. If he added to that he wasn’t eating enough, that his skin crawled every time someone tried to touch him and the fact that he’d practically bolted from town tonight, Jarrod knew his family’s concern was going to grow even greater. He didn’t know how much more of it he could take or how much of the unreasoning fear he could stand before he just couldn’t go on.

He reached the ranch without even realizing it and Jingo stopped in front of the barn door. Jarrod slid from the saddle and eyed the dark opening. He gulped as he realized he wasn’t going to be able to force himself to take his horse inside and with a whispered apology, unsaddled the sorrel and took him around to let him loose in the corral to the side.

An icy panic gripped him when he heard hoofbeats from the other side of the building. Terror took over and Jarrod flattened himself against the wall, tensing, ready to attack before he was assaulted again. Holding his breath, Jarrod held himself still until he saw the dark figure round the corner. He pounced and wrapped his arm around his assailant’s neck and hung on for all he was worth.

“Jarrod,” a voice wheezed, but Jarrod didn’t let up until it croaked again, “Jarrod, stop, it’s Heath…”

Jarrod immediately released his hold and stared in dismay as his younger brother rubbed his throat and gasped for breath.

“Oh, god, Heath,” he said in a strangled whisper, “what have I…?”

Heath looked up to see the horror on Jarrod’s face before his oldest brother bolted. He took a faltering step to stop him, but he needed a little more time to recover from the attack. Jarrod had one devil of a grip, that was for sure and Heath leaned against the barn to catch his breath. Feeling steadier after a few minutes, he followed in Jarrod’s direction and his heart stopped when he found his brother kneeling on the ground, tears tracked across his cheeks and the barrel of his gun pointed at his own face with shaking hands.

“I know how I’d feel if you ate that bullet, big brother,” Heath drawled softly, “I can’t even imagine what it would do to Mother.”

Jarrod slowly lowered the gun and dropped it to the ground. His head sank into his hands and his shoulders shook with repressed sobs.

“How, Heath?” he said, anguished. “How do I go on? I’m a danger to myself, my family…” Jarrod looked up, heatbreaking sorrow evident in his blue eyes. “My god, Heath, I almost killed you tonight.”

Heath sat beside him, close but not touching. “Don’t reckon I know all of how you feel, Jarrod,” he said softly. “But I’ve likely got some idea. When I was in Carterson…” He paused. He didn’t want to dredge up memories long since put behind him, but knew he had to if he wanted to help his brother. “I saw more than one good man not be able to go on because of what he’d seen or went through.” Heath gave a cynical laugh. “When I got out, reckon it was a good thing I was flat on my back for six weeks or I’d have run screaming for the hills.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes and Heath thought of the past few mornings when he watched Jarrod come back to the house after spending the night somewhere else. “Y’know, it does help to talk about it.”

“And what do you want me to talk about?” Jarrod asked with a hint of sarcasm. “That I still remember smell of my own burning flesh? That it didn’t matter if I died or managed to get free, that either would have allowed me to escape? How I still wake up screaming from nightmares about what he…” Jarrod cut off what he was going to say and buried his head in his hands.

“Any of it, Jarrod,” Heath replied quietly, “or all of it. You know I ain’t gonna judge you.”

Jarrod took a long, shaky breath. “I can’t, Heath. I just can’t.”

Heath wanted to reach out to his older brother and offer him some kind of reassurance, but refrained as he recalled Jarrod’s aversion to being touched since he got back.

“Maybe you just need some time to yourself,” Heath finally said, although a bit reluctantly. He did know what his older brother was going through. He saw the strain on Jarrod’s face whenever the family was around, maybe especially when they were around. Heath remembered how hard it was to take the sympathy of strangers when he was recovering after the liberation of Carterson; the fact that it was family’s eyes that looked at him so pityingly must make it doubly hard. “I don’t like to think about you being alone, Jarrod, but I reckon it might be good for you to not have to worry about keeping a brave face for the rest of us.”

“I want to,” Jarrod admitted, his voice almost a whisper. “Oh, god, I just want to run away from everyone and everything. I just don’t want to hurt anyone, Mother, Nick…”

Heath gave him a small smile. “Reckon I can make them see it’s for the best. You just gotta promise me two things, Jarrod.”

“What are they, Heath?”

“Well, the first is to write or wire us, let us know where you are and that you’re okay. Otherwise I don’t know if I can hold off the posse.” Heath smiled as he saw Jarrod relax a bit.

“And the other?”

Heath picked up the gun from where Jarrod had dropped it and handed it back. “That you won’t use this.”

Jarrod stared at the revolver in his hands before slowly nodding and meeting his brother’s eyes. “You have my word, Heath.”

Heath gripped Jarrod’s shoulder briefly and was relieved that the other man didn’t flinch away. “C’mon, I’ll help you pack. Best to get away before Nick finds out what you’re up to.”

Jarrod gave Heath a bit of a smile. “Thank you, brother Heath.”

“Anytime, Jarrod. Anytime.”