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A Small Price To Pay	By : cowgirl65 Category: 1 through F > The Big Valley Views: 2767 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own The Big Valley and make no money from this.

Chapter List
- 1-ch. 1
- 2-ch. 2
- 3-ch. 3
- 4-ch. 4
- 5-ch. 5
- 6-ch. 6
- 7-ch. 7
- 8-ch. 8
- 9-ch. 9
- 10-ch. 10
- 11-ch. 11
- 12-ch. 12
- 13-ch. 13
- 14-ch. 14
- 15-ch. 15
- 16-ch. 16
- 9
- 10
- 11
“Coffee, Jarrod?”
Jarrod looked up from where he was leaning against the porch rail.. Nettie Sample was holding a large pot and several tin cups. He nodded. “Thanks, Nettie.” He took a sip of the hot brew as she walked down to the next man.
Six years and it had still come to this. Four years of buying Jordan off with his body, two years of legal wrangling and they were back to settling things with violence and guns. Even Nick, who’d stood behind him through some of the darkest days of his life, didn’t have his back this time. There was no way he could forget his brother’s hostility of the previous day when he suggested injunctive procedures instead of meeting them gun for gun and the tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife.
Gene walked by and barely gave Jarrod a glance. No one was with him, Jarrod thought glumly. When Frank tore up the railroad’s ultimatum after the fire at Swenson’s and threw it down in despair, his brothers had been the first to stand behind their friend and neighbour. Their glares came back to haunt him, as well as the disbelief in his mother’s eyes when he hesitated in joining them. It was at that moment he knew that no matter what he did, it was going to end in more deaths. All his work to settle things without bloodshed, selling his self-respect to keep that from happening; it had all been for nothing and was going to end again with good men being killed because no one was willing to sit down and come to a reasonable solution.
Jarrod sighed. If he had a choice, he’d be almost anywhere but there. Almost. What went on in that seedy hotel in San Francisco still haunted his dreams and he often woke in a cold sweat from the imagined feeling of Jordan’s cock being shoved down his throat or the pain of being repeatedly raped. He’d done everything he could to avoid meeting the rail baron in his fight to stop the land grab and he’d mostly succeeded. The only contact they’d had was across a meeting table with a dozen other men and even that was too close to be comfortable.
Hearing the click of rifle stocks being checked, Jarrod had to wonder, though, if he’d done the right thing by putting an end to his deal with Jordan. But he knew he wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if it continued and with all that happened, Jordan would have likely only moved quicker once he was dead.
But right or wrong, choices had been made by all of them and couldn’t be taken back. Jarrod tossed the remains of his coffee onto the dirt, set down his cup, and walked over to join the rest of the men gathered to stand against the Coastal and Western Railroad and Hannibal Jordan.
As he came around the corner of Sample’s porch, Jarrod heard Nick telling the story about the cougar he’d hunted last month.
“I tried to run for cover,” Nick told his rapt audience, gesturing for emphasis, “but these claws were ripping right into my back and the teeth were hitting my neck. I've been up against some cats before...”
“How’d you get out?” one of the men asked.
“Her husband came home.”
Nick crossed his arms, huffed and gave Jarrod a dirty look. Jarrod instantly regretted his attempt to lighten the mood, but didn’t show it as he leaned against the post. It was grim business they were up to that morning and it wouldn’t do any good to dwell on their private feud.
“What time is it?”
Jarrod took out his watch and checked. “Ten minutes to eight."
Nick slouched more heavily against the rail and smacked his black-gloved hands together impatiently. Jarrod just stared off in the direction Hannibal Jordan’s hired guns would be coming from. Just over an hour and the courthouse would be open. If the railroad’s men would only wait sixty minutes, certain bloodshed might be avoided, but Jarrod had little hope that would happen.
“Jarrod. Nick.”
He and Nick both turned and looked in the same direction as Frank Sample to see men on horseback coming their way. Nick jumped over the rail to stand in front of the porch before restlessly going back to stand beside Jarrod. Rifles were readied as nearly thirty men rode in to the yard, pulled their horses to a halt and watched the defenders. No one said a word.
Sheriff Lyman dismounted and took several steps towards them before Frank’s words of, “That’s far enough, Harry,” stopped him. Rifle in both hands, Frank slowly walked off the porch. They stared silently at each other for a moment.
Harry reached into his pocket, pulled out and unfolded a piece of paper. “ ‘At 8:00 a.m., by order of the governor of the state of California’...”
“We know what it says, Harry.” No one else thought a piece of paper could change anything, not an injunction, not a bill passed by the people’s elected representatives and not the men assembled that morning. Jarrod wondered bitterly why the sheriff even bothered to read it.
But Harry kept reading. “ ‘And the power vested in me as sheriff of this county’...”
“We know what it says,” Nick repeated belligerently.
Harry folded the paper, regret in his eyes and turned at the sound of more hoofbeats. Everyone else turned with him and Jarrod exchanged a glance with Nick when he recognized the rider.
It was the blond cowboy, Heath, who’d confronted them in the library the night before, brandishing a broken bottle and claiming to be their father’s bastard. It was just another bone of contention between he and Nick. Yes, he’d tried to buy the man off, but Heath had refused the money and walked out, only pausing to give them a cocky wave. That only cemented the belief started in Jarrod’s mind when the blond told them about his mother. As soon as he said “Strawberry”, Jarrod knew. He hadn’t wanted to admit it, that was why he offered Heath money in the hope he’d take it and go away, but the place and time fit too well, not to mention that Heath looked remarkably like their father if one stopped to think about it.
When Heath left, Jarrod told his brothers he believed the story. Gene had been willing to listen, but it would have come to blows between he and Nick if one of the hands hadn’t interrupted with news of the fire at Swenson’s.
Jarrod watched his probably half-brother vault off his horse, grab his rifle and come up on the porch to stand behind he and Nick, only paying partial attention to the conversation between Harry and Frank. Surely Heath’s arrival at a fight not his, on the side of their friends and neighbours, would prove something to his hot-tempered brother and ease at least some of the tension between them.
Then Jarrod heard his name and turned his full attention to Harry. He watched as one of the men looked at his watch and held up a finger. One minute. One minute to eight, one minute to avoid the almost inevitable bloodshed.
“You have no way!” the sheriff tried again. “Jarrod, tell them!”
“Get out of this, Harry,” Nick warned.
“You men are asking to be killed!” It was as if Lyman was talking to a stone wall. “You're fighting for something you haven't a chance of winning!”
Jarrod took his last chance at solving things peacefully. “The courthouse opens at 9:00. Will you wait?” He knew it was in vain as guns were loosened from holsters and rifles were readied and reluctantly removed the safety loop from his own pistol.
Without warning, the leader drew his pistol, shot Sample dead in the chest and the unfortunate farmer flew backwards to lie unmoving in the dirt.
Nick jumped over the porch rail and pulled his gun, firing as bullets started flying in all directions. Harry Lyman moved in a circle, as if still trying to find a way to stop the altercation. Jarrod watched in horror as a stray bullet felled his friend and fellow upholder of justice. He looked up in time to see a man shoot from the barn loft and kill the leader of the gunmen and finally pulled his own gun to pick several men off their horses. Pain ripped through his arm and Jarrod fell back, clutching at the gunshot wound. He saw Eugene come off the porch, crouch down and cover him until he regained his composure. Sparing a moment to say a silent prayer for Gene’s safety, he ignored the pain as he resumed shooting. He and Nick had argued with their brother, telling him he should stay home to protect their mother and sister, but Gene saw through them and reminded them that they hadn’t been any older when they joined up to fight in the war. Jarrod hoped he’d get a chance to tell Eugene how proud he was of the younger man’s composure under fire and hopefully mend their relationship when everything was over.
The attackers dropped from their horses one by one and slowly their comrades turned to run, picking up unhorsed men and hightailing it back the way they’d come. Jarrod sat back on the step, weary in mind and body, as Nick and a few of the others sent the last shots after the fleeing men. He couldn’t help but wonder what Hannibal Jordan’s reaction would be to the morning’s events but he didn’t really want to know. He’d head into town as soon as they took care of the dead and wounded, file the injunction and finally hope for an end. Jarrod knew too well how ruthless their adversary was, but he wasn’t stupid. It was a smart man who knew when to lay down his cards and he hoped Jordan would see that the deck was stacked against him.
He got to his feet when Nick came over and let him look at his bloody sleeve without complaint. It was starting to hurt like the devil, but he was under no illusion that the simple gesture did anything to heal the disagreement between them.
Looking around at the carnage, Jarrod noticed a solitary figure sitting at the edge of the yard. Heath’s hands were shaking as he tried to roll himself a cigarette and Jarrod couldn’t stop himself from going over. He said a silent prayer of thanks that his brothers were still alive, the ones he’d known since birth and the one he’d only discovered last night. There’d probably be hell to pay from Nick later, but at that moment, Jarrod didn’t care. Maybe he could start to repair his relationship with at least one of his brothers.
He held a cigar out to Heath, what he should have offered in the library last night instead of a payout. Heath took it without a word, bit the end off and spat it out. The look they exchanged spoke volumes and in spite of the sorrow of what just happened, Jarrod knew his overture had been accepted as well. They were in for a rocky time, in his family as well as the Valley, but Jarrod had hope they’d all come out stronger in the end.
- 9
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- 11
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A Small Price To Pay