Betrayals

Victoria awoke from her nap to hear snatches of a heated argument from outside, and on getting up and looking out the window, saw Nick shove Jarrod in front of the barn. She couldn’t quite make out the words and watched with bated breath, wondering what was going on. Victoria hoped the altercation wasn’t a result of Jarrod’s trip to Sacramento, because that would mean his mission ended in failure. She knew of the many fights Jarrod had with his father over his chosen profession and knew that, even though Jarrod didn’t regret following his own dream, her oldest son had never gotten over feeling like he’d failed the man who sired him. The last thing he needed was for his brother to accuse him of failing as well.

Victoria breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Jarrod put his arms around Nick and turned back to the dressing table to fix her hair after watching the two of them head for the house. She heard their footsteps come up the stairs and froze when she heard their words.

“Have you told Mother?”

“No and I’m not going to until I have proof. I hope what we find out in Strawberry will show if Heath really is Father’s son.”

At that moment, Victoria knew why her thoughts continued to return to young Heath Thomson. She closed her eyes tightly and bit her lip, but not before a strangled sob escaped from her throat. How could she not have seen his resemblance to her husband? All Tom’s infidelities, all his betrayals came crashing down around her and Victoria’s memories transported her back to relive that time over twenty years ago.

She’d had another miscarriage, the second in three years. Tom was frequently absent from home, working out on the range with the herd, on trips to buy and sell their cattle and on expeditions to expand the family’s other business interests. With the house to take care of and two rambunctious boys to look after, Victoria hadn’t been able to rest like the doctor recommended when she found out she was pregnant. The second time, she’d lashed out at Tom, blaming him for losing another child. Tom had been quick to anger as well, telling her if the sacrifices he made for the family weren’t appreciated, then he’d just go elsewhere.

They didn’t hear from him for over a month and when Tom finally returned home, it was with the purchase of a silver mine up the Stanislaus, hat in hand, professing how much he missed them all.

But Victoria knew. She took Tom back; how could she not, with two small boys to consider and loving him the way she did, even though she hated him at the time as well. She knew because of the well-mended shirts, the embroidered handkerchiefs that still smelled faintly of a rose perfume and the slightly absent look he’d get in his eyes whenever business with the mine came up. She finally confronted him about it, almost six months later, and Tom had the decency to confess to loving another woman, swearing he’d given her up when he realized all he’d left behind. Tom sold the mine to prove himself and that sale resulted in an enormous profit and the start of the Barkley wealth.

Victoria turned a blind eye to Tom’s other indiscretions, telling herself that a man had needs a woman couldn’t understand, but deep down, she knew it was just a pathetic attempt to console herself.

Hearing her sons’ hushed whispers as they went back down the stairs, Victoria listened as the front door opened and closed. She picked up the framed picture that resided on the dressing table, staring at the face she loved, hated, respected and reviled.

“Why, Tom?” she whispered, this time not fighting the tears. “Why wasn’t I enough for you? I loved you so much.” Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the picture more tightly and then she turned and hurled it against the wall, the glass shattering into a thousand pieces.

“Damn you, Tom!” she screamed and rested her head on her arms, sobbing.

*

Nick rode his horse slowly beside the wagon his older brother was driving. Even though they couldn’t go as fast, Jarrod reminded Nick that Heath wasn’t in the best of shape and they might need the wagon to bring him home. The big rancher was grateful Jarrod wasn’t trying to draw him into conversation; always astute, Jarrod must have realized Nick need some time to sort out his thoughts.

Nick recalled his encounter with Heath in the line shack. The younger man hadn’t struggled, hadn’t protested and Nick had taken that to mean Heath welcomed his attentions. But when Nick woke up from the sleep that always overtook him after a session of lovemaking, the bed was cold and Heath was gone. That, combined with Jarrod’s description of Heath’s appearance when he’d returned to the ranch, made Nick rethink his earlier assumption.

What if Heath hadn’t wanted it? What if he hadn’t fought Nick off because he was in too much shock from his beloved mare’s death? What if he’d been too dazed with pain from the head wound and his earlier injuries to fully comprehend what was happening until it was too late? Nick shuddered, bile rising in his throat. If that was the case, what did that make him? He might go out of his way to seduce the object of his desires, but he’d never forced himself on anyone who didn’t want his attentions.

Then there was Jarrod’s suspicion. Nick’s belly clenched at the thought Heath Thomson might be their father’s son. It was a sin enough to love another man, but when that man was a brother… Nick couldn’t bring himself to even think on it.

Even worse was the idea that his father had been unfaithful to his mother. Oh, Jarrod was right, he’d accompanied Tom Barkley to a fair share of whorehouses on their trips, but hiring the services of a fallen dove wasn’t quite the same as loving another woman and siring a son on her. There was no doubt in Nick’s mind that Heath’s mother had never been a whore; it just didn’t fit with the blond’s personality to have been raised in an environment like that. Nick had always looked up to his father; ‘placed him on a pedestal’ was how Jarrod had once put it. To find that Tom wasn’t the paragon he’d always thought him…

Nick sighed, looking over at his brother who was steadily watching the road in front of them. He wondered what Jarrod was thinking about all this. With all their differences and arguments, Nick knew Jarrod still keenly felt the disappointment of their father regarding his path in life, even if Tom wasn’t quite as high on a pedestal to his eldest son. He also wondered how Jarrod felt about him, especially after his admission of what happened in the line shack. Jarrod had never questioned Nick’s proclivities, appearing to accept his younger brother’s deviant choices, but they’d never really discussed it, either. Nick wasn’t sure he really wanted to find out what his older brother thought.

Nick was pulled from his musings when Jarrod brought the wagon to an abrupt halt. He was surprised to see that the sun was already going down, bathing the sky in a riot of orange and red.

“Reckon we can still make another couple miles before the light’s gone,” Nick observed.

Jarrod shook his head, indicating the trail ahead of them. “Look.”

Only then did Nick notice the unfamiliar horse grazing by the side of the road.

“That’s the horse I borrowed from the livery back in Stockton,” Jarrod continued. “The one we figured Heath took. The shape he was in, I’m surprised he made it this far.” Jarrod set the brake and hopped down from the wagon. Nick tethered Coco after dismounting and the two men made their cautious way toward the horse, not wanting to spook the animal. Carefully, Nick picked up the reins and tied the bay gelding to a nearby tree.

“Nick, he’s over here.”

Nick came over to where Jarrod was crouched by an unmoving form that Nick knew all too heartbreakingly well. “You think he’s hurt, Jarrod?”

Jarrod shook his head, but shrugged as well. “I don’t think so. At least, no more than he was before. I don’t see any blood or any obvious injuries. He’s probably more cold and exhausted than anything. Let’s get a fire going and get him warm.”

“I’ll gather some wood,” Nick offered, not wanting to confront the feelings seeing that pale face elicited, hoping the task of starting a fire would distract him.

When he got back with a large armful of deadfall, Jarrod already had a tidy blaze going with what he had been able to find close by. Nick built up the fire and laid the rest of the wood nearby. He looked at the unconscious form Jarrod had bundled up in the extra blankets they brought with them and fought down the urge to go to Heath, cradle him in his arms and tell him everything would be okay. Instead, he grabbed the coffeepot sitting by the fire. “I’ll get some water and start the coffee. Think we’ll probably be needing it.”

Jarrod looked up at his brother, catching his hazel eyes. “He’ll be okay, Nick,” Jarrod said quietly.

Nick gave a curt nod, not trusting his voice. Jarrod got up from where he was kneeling beside Heath and walked to Nick, grabbing him by the upper arm in a gesture of reassurance. “We’ll talk to him when he wakes up, Nick, and set everything right. I know we can’t change anything that’s happened, but maybe we can all make a fresh start.”

“But what if he hates me, Pappy?” Nick managed to choke out. “I mean, I thought he was okay with what we were… what I was doing. What if he wasn’t? What if…” Nick couldn’t go on. Jarrod pulled him into a tight embrace.

“I don’t know, Nick,” the older brother admitted. “All you can do is try to make him understand. And I’ll be right beside you.”

Nick wiped at his cheeks, trying to get rid on any embarrassing wetness that might have collected. “Thanks, Pappy.”

Jarrod gave him a hearty slap on the shoulder. “That’s what brothers are for, Nick. Now how about that coffee?”

Nick offered to stay up and sit with Heath for the first part of the night. He sat quietly, staring into the flames, trying to ignore the conflict in his heart. Lover or brother, friend or hired hand, one night stand or something more, he couldn’t sort out what he wanted to be to Heath and dreaded what Heath might feel about him. Reckoning it was well past midnight, Nick finally decided it was time to try and get some sleep himself.

“No, leave me alone,” came the tortured cry from where Heath lay. “Don’t touch me, don’t… please… don’t…” The blond thrashed in the blankets and Nick saw he was dangerously close to the fire. He grabbed Heath and tried to hold him still, the younger man still struggling. “No, Uncle Matt, I’ll be good, I promise, just don’t touch me like that…”

Nick’s stomach turned as Heath pleaded for relief from his tormentor. If he was reliving a real event, not just a nightmare brought on by Nick’s actions, that meant Heath’s uncle had…

“Heath, wake up.”

Nick looked up to see his older brother kneeling beside them, shaking Heath by the shoulders. “Come on, Heath, you’re all right, you’re not there any more. It’s just a nightmare, Heath, wake up.”

Heath sat up abruptly and Nick and Jarrod moved back quickly to give him space. He sat there, breath coming in heaving gasps as his head hung to his chest. Nick grabbed a cup and moved to the pot on the fire, pouring some coffee and handing it to Heath. Heath looked at Nick, suspicion, fear and a hint of something else in his light blue eyes. Finally, hands shaking, he took the proffered beverage and the shaking gradually lessened after a few sips.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Heath eyed the two men warily. “What are you doing here?”

Jarrod shrugged, but his eyes twinkled in spite of the gravity of the situation. “I needed a break and heard Strawberry was a nice place to go this time of year.”

Heath gave him a doubtful look. “Got the feeling you were a smart man, Jarrod. Don’t go blowing my image of you.”

“We were worried about you, boy.”

Heath turned at that quiet statement from Nick. “Can take care of myself,” he mumbled, keeping his hands wrapped around the coffee cup.

The three men were silent until Jarrod spoke up.

“Where were you held, Heath? During the war?”

Heath turned suspicious eyes on Jarrod but held silent. Nick looked on in astonishment, not sure he could believe what he was hearing.

“I saw your back, Heath,” Jarrod admitted. “After you saved Audra and I helped the doctor bind your ribs, I saw the scars and I know what they mean. I was there when the prisoners were released from Libby and I knew a few men who survived Andersonville.”

There was a long silence.

“Carterson.”

Both brothers blanched at the quiet admission. If anything, Carterson was even worse than Andersonville. Even fewer prisoners had made it out of the New Mexico prison camp alive at the end of the war, even though it had only been Henry Wirz of Andersonville who was hanged, with Carterson’s Matt Bentell inexplicably escaping the noose.

“Heath, you weren’t old enough to fight in the war,” Nick insisted. “Why, you would’ve only been what, sixteen, seventeen, when it was over?”

“Fifteen.” Heath’s voice was subdued. “Joined up as a drummer when it started, Mama and I needed the money and it got me away from…” Heath shuddered and shook his head, wrapping his arms tightly around himself. “Guess it didn’t end up no better.”

Heath’s pleas during his nightmare came back to Nick and he suddenly knew why an eleven-year-old Heath chose war over staying at home. “You left because of your uncle, didn’t you?”

Violently, Heath surged to his feet. “What gives you the right to be asking all these questions?! Why do you want to know what happened to a poor bastard kid in a rotten rathole of a mining camp?! Why the hell should you care what happened to me?! Especially considering what you did!” Heath stalked across the campsite to hit his fist against a nearby tree before resting his forehead against it, shoulders heaving as tried to breathe.

Nick glanced over at Jarrod with guilt-filled eyes. Jarrod just gave him a reassuring smile and a tilt of his head that said to go over and try to make things right.

Nick placed a hesitant hand on Heath’s shoulder that was abruptly shrugged away. “Heath, if you didn’t want me to… do what I did, why didn’t you say something? Ask me to stop?”

“Didn’t think it would matter none,” came the barely audible reply.

“You didn’t think it would matter none?!” Heath flinched at Nick’s belligerent tone and Nick felt as if his heart would break. “Didn’t think it would…” Nick’s words choked in his throat. “God, Heath, you thought I’d just… Heath, I have never… would never… I mean…” Nick turned away, unable to continue.

Jarrod gripped Nick’s shoulder in support before walking up to stand by Heath. “It’s true, Heath. Nick may be loud, obnoxious, self-centred and overbearing, but I’ve known him all his life and he’d never hurt anyone or anything unless it’s to protect something he loves.”

Nick held his breath when Heath glanced sideways at Jarrod as the lawyer continued.

“Heath, I trust him with my life. I have trusted him with my life on more than one occasion.” Jarrod leaned against the tree as Heath straightened up. “I know you and I don’t know each other well, but I already consider you my friend. And I’ll have you know I never lie to someone I call friend.”

“But what he did… what we did, it’s a mortal sin, Jarrod.”

Nick closed his eyes tightly as Heath’s words cut him to the core.

“You just don’t do those sorts of things with another man,” Heath continued in an anguished tone. “And to get pleasure from it…” Heath shook his head, voice barely a whisper. “Reckon that makes me as bad as my uncle or any of those guards at Carterson.”

Jarrod reached out to lay a gentle hand on Heath’s back. When the blond didn’t pull away, Jarrod moved a little closer. “No, it doesn’t, Heath,” he said in a soft voice. “If a relationship is based on mutual love and support, how can it be wrong? If the intentions are good and no one is hurt, where’s the harm?” Jarrod looked up at Nick, encouraging him and Nick came nearer.

“I swear, Heath,” he said, tone heavy with regret, “I didn’t think you wouldn’t want me to. Hell, I guess I just didn’t think. I only wanted to be there for you, to try and make things better, to show you how much I cared. I was wrong; I shouldn’t have touched you like that without coming right out and asking. The thought that I might have taken you against your will… God, Heath, it just makes me sick inside.” Nick could barely force himself to meet the other’s eyes, but instead of the hate and disgust he expected to find, there was only confusion and uncertainty.

“You didn’t force me, Nick, I reckon I just gave in,” Heath admitted quietly.

“But that’s almost the same…”

Heath shook his head, cutting Nick off. “I could’ve fought you off if I wanted to.” He shuddered and swallowed uncomfortably. “I need to get some sleep,” he stated abruptly and walked over to grab his blankets, settling down on the far edge of the fire, effectively shutting off any further conversation.

Nick sank heavily to the ground, drawing his knees tight to his chest as he leaned back against the tree. Jarrod went to the fire and poured two cups of coffee, then stopped at the wagon to pull a bottle out from his gear and added a generous amount of the amber liquid to each cup.

“Here, Nick,” he said, thrusting the cup into his brother’s hands as he sat beside him. “I think you could use this.”

“Thanks, Pappy.” Nick took a large swallow, then just stared at the cup’s contents. “Jarrod,” he said finally, “what you said back there, about intentions, you really believe that?”

“Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t, Nick.” Jarrod took a sip of his own whiskey-laced brew.

“You don’t, uh, have any urges that way, do you?’

Jarrod chuckled. “Nope, not a bit. I tend to prefer my bed partners a little softer and curvier.”

“Never knew if you accepted what I was doing or if you were just real good at keeping your disgust to yourself,” Nick said quietly. “Reckoned if I didn’t ask, I could just pretend it was the first.”

Jarrod was silent for a moment. “I saw you, you know. Back before I left for college. It was that wrangler we’d hired from Kentucky. His name was Brent or something like that.”

“Brett,” Nick corrected, remembering the tall dark man Jarrod referred to. Nick already knew he liked men and wasn’t a virgin, but Brett had done things and taught him things in his few months at the ranch that Nick had never dreamed two men could do with one another.

“I’d woken early and went out to the barn to check on Pepper to see if she was ready to foal yet. You had him up against one of the feed boxes…” Jarrod took another drink. “It made me physically ill, Nick,” he admitted. “I ran outside as fast as I could and was sick behind the bunkhouse. Remember that little Chinese man who was the cook back then?”

At Nick’s nod, Jarrod continued. “Well, Chow Lin found me, took me inside and got me to tell him what happened.” Jarrod grinned. “I always try to emulate him when I’m trying to pry information out of a hostile witness. Anyway, he told me that in his culture, a relationship that encouraged the happiness and well-being of both partners, men or women, was accepted, as long as you did your duty by continuing the family line as well. He made me think about how I could condemn something that only brought joy to those involved; made me feel guilty for those times I’d visited one of the girls at the saloon and was only concerned about my pleasure, not hers.”

Nick saw the sincerity in Jarrod’s blue eyes as he finished. “I know what kind of man you are, Nick. I’m proud to have you by my side and even prouder to call you my brother. And I know Heath will be too, once he gets to know you.”

Nick’s heart felt lighter than it had for a long time, knowing the big brother he respected and looked up to respected him as well. He glanced over to the still form on the other side of the fire. “What about him, Jarrod?” he asked. “What if we find out he really is our brother?”

“We’ll just have to take that as it comes,” Jarrod stated firmly. “I don’t think we should say anything to him, though, not until we have proof.” He tossed the contents of his cup into the fire. “And at that, I’m going back to bed. If something happens, I don’t think we have to worry that we’ll sleep through it.”

As Nick crawled into his blankets, he thought about what would happen if they did find the proof they were seeking. Yes, he’d gain another brother, but he wondered where that would leave the other feelings he had for Heath, feelings that he just couldn’t seem to shake.