Betrayals

A/N: The next few parts are mostly straight out of the series’ pilot, ‘Palms of Glory’, added to and modified to fit this AU.


At Nick and Jarrod’s insistence, Heath talked to Hannah and convinced her to leave Strawberry. It wasn’t as hard as he’d thought it might be; her reluctance to stay without Leah and with the Simmons’ still in town had likely played a large part in her acquiescence.

Heath himself was of two minds about returning to Stockton. On one hand, Tom Barkley was his father. Heath felt no pride in having the so-called great man as a daddy, but it was a proud name, one he was entitled to and he had the urge to wear it, to make people look up to him as they did to Tom’s legitimate sons.

On the other hand, there was the hurt. The hurt that had been caused by his paternity being kept secret, the hurt that the revelation would bring to the innocent members of the Barkley family, hurt that once caused would not easily go away. Heath wondered if it wouldn’t just be better to walk away, pretend he’d never heard of Stockton or the Barkleys and start fresh somewhere else, somewhere far away.

But every time he tried to think of where he might go, the vision of intense hazel eyes intruded, the feel of firm but gentle hands on his skin, the sound of a deep voice murmuring in his ear. The more he tried to banish those images, the more thoughts of Nick Barkley invaded his mind. You’re sick, Thomson, Heath told himself, distressed. Not only is he a man, he’s your brother, for chrissake, your father’s son. It don’t matter that you didn’t know, it’s still a fact. The further away you get from him, the better. But no matter how often he told himself those things, Heath still yearned for Nick to touch him like that again.

He closed his eyes tightly, trying to will the feelings away as he hoisted the carpetbag where he’d packed those things of his mother’s he wanted to keep and resolutely walked out of the bedroom. He was committed to going to Stockton, at least until he saw Hannah settled. After that, well, he decided he’d think about it then.

“Ready to go, Aunt Hannah?” he asked, seeing her close her bag.

“I’s ready, Heath.” Hannah looked wistfully around the place she’d called home for so long.

Heath took Hannah’s hand and held it for a moment, then with a faint grin said, “Reckon we’d better get going. Don’t think Nick’s the type who fancies waiting.”

They walked outside to find the wagon waiting with both horses saddled, Nick already mounted on Coco. Heath helped Hannah onto the seat before hopping up to sit beside her. “If no one minds, I’ll drive.”

“Whatever you say, Heath,” Jarrod agreed, picking up the bay’s reins and swinging into the saddle.

Nick turned the head of his dark chestnut away from the cabin. “If we get moving, we might be able to reach Stockton before sundown. Come on.”

*

“You’re sure there are no messages?”

“No, Mr. Barkley.” The young woman shook her head. “Nothing at all since you came back from Sacramento.”

“Damn.” Jarrod quickly turned a look of apology on his secretary. “I’m sorry, Anna. I shouldn’t be using that kind of language.” He gave her a smile, full of Barkley charm. “It’s late. Why don’t you head home and I’ll see you in the morning.”

Anna retuned the smile and nodded, gathering her belongings. “Thank you, Mr. Barkley. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Jarrod opened the door for her and shut it when she left, moving over to sink into the chair behind the desk. “Damn,” he muttered again.

The railroad’s deadline was tomorrow. Jarrod hadn’t really believed a decision on his injunction would be in, but he had still held out a faint hope. Now even that was crushed. He sank his head into his hands, wondering if the only answer was the one Frank Sample proposed, the same answer that had gotten his father killed three years ago.

“Hey, Jarrod, we got Hannah settled in the old Potter house on the edge of town and---“ Nick stopped in mid-sentence, seeing the look on his brother’s face. “Who shot your dog, Pappy?”

Jarrod raised his eyes to see Nick in the doorway, Heath standing in the shadows behind. “No one, Nick. As far as I can tell, they’re still deciding if they should pull the trigger.”

“What’s going on?”

Both men turned to look at Heath. “The Coastal and Western Railroad, headed by Hannibal Jordan, is strong-arming a bunch of the valley’s farmers into having to buy their own land for an outrageous price, or it’s going to just be taken from them,” Jarrod explained. “I was up in the capitol, trying to get our government to put a stop to what’s basically outright theft. Our appeal to the courts hasn’t been addressed yet.”

“And the deadline’s tomorrow,” Nick added, “right, Jarrod?’

Jarrod nodded heavily. “We have to try to stop it from turning into a bloodbath, Nick.”

Nick snorted. “That’s the only kind of argument those railroad goons understand, Jarrod. It’s kill or be killed and quite frankly, I ain’t standing by and letting my friends be the ones getting killed.”

Jarrod sighed and turned his gaze on Heath. “We should head back to the ranch and get a good night’s rest. I’ll talk to the others in the morning.”

Heath didn’t say anything more and Jarrod didn’t really notice, too wrapped up in his own thoughts as they retrieved their horses from the livery and headed out of town.

His father thought the same as Nick, that a physical fight was the only answer and where had that gotten them? Twelve men dead, Tom Barkley included and here they were, back in that same position only a few years later. Jarrod believed in the law, believed that it was up to the government and people who cared to uphold it. But his faith was being sorely tested. His injunction hadn’t been granted in time and it was looking like they’d have to fight or give in. The valley’s farmers were being betrayed again by the people they elected to look out for their interests.

Maybe if he had taken it to the courts the first time around, like his father wanted, instead of focusing on his client at the time… Jarrod shook his head. Second guessing himself wasn’t going to get him anywhere. If he had dropped that case to focus on the railroad issue, an innocent man would have likely hung, leaving his wife and small daughter alone. And if you had dropped it, a little voice nagged, your father might still be alive.

I did what I needed to, Jarrod defended himself to the voice, and I still believe I made the right choice.

“Jarrod, look.” Nick’s voice broke into the lawyer’s thoughts. He followed Nick’s gaze to a flicker of orange blossoming against the darkening sky. “That’s Swenson’s place.” The three men urged their horses into a gallop.

Sig Swenson’s farmyard was a scene of chaos. All the buildings were on fire and men hauled buckets of water, trying to make sure the flames didn’t spread. Swenson was standing looking forlornly at the chimney of the house, the only part still standing. When it too crumbled and fell, the despondent man tossed his bucket angrily at the ruins. Jarrod and Nick dismounted, going to their friend and neighbour as Victoria Barkley pulled up in the ranch buggy, looking sadly at what remained of a once prosperous homestead.

”They came,” Swenson said as Nick grabbed his arm and Jarrod came over slowly after staring at the devastation, “just came. With guns and torches, howling out like wolves. And I just stood there, aside, and watched them do it.” He hung his head in despair.

“Well, not my place.” Frank Sample strode up, determination in every step. “And hanged I’ll be after paying for what I own.” He took something out of his pocket and waved it in front of Jarrod. “I have a paper here that says I’ll have to do just that.” He walked over to Nick, then to the sheriff who had helped fight the blaze. “By 8 o’clock in the morning, or have my place took out from under me. Well, I ain’t, you hear?” There was a thick silence, them Sample held the paper aloft. “I ain’t! Who stands with me?”

In the shadows, Heath remained mounted and Victoria looked on.

Sheriff Lyman looked sternly at Nick who had moved to stand beside Sample. “No one stands with you, Frank. I’m sorry, but legally after tomorrow the land’s no longer yours.”

Sample lowered his hand slowly. “Nick,” he said, almost desperately and then walked to Jarrod. “Jarrod. Listen. Three years ago, your daddy and mine fought and died for this, cause your daddy said it was right to fight.”

Heath looked from the scene unfolding before them, over to the widow of his father, his brothers’ mother and had to look away when she returned his glance with a serene one of her own.

“And what did it gain you?” Sheriff Lyman shouted. “Any one of you?” He turned to Sample. “Your father…” and then to Jarrod, “and yours. Ten others, dead. Three years of false hope. I bow to no man in my regard for Tom Barkley, but he was only a man. He couldn’t fight a giant and win! Any more than can you!” He addressed Sample again. “Or you. Or any man.” He looked over the gathered crowd. “So worship him, and pray for him, but follow him… you follow a dead man to his grave.”

Sample looked from Nick to Jarrod. “That true? What he says? Your daddy gave us nothing? No way to fight?” The farmer bowed his head and walked away, defeated. “Never did.”

Everyone’s attention was on Frank Sample, who ripped the ultimatum from the railroad and threw it to the ground in despair. Everyone watched as Nick took a long look around, catching each of them in his piercing gaze, with a longer look at his brother before he walked over and stood beside Sample, arms crossed defiantly. Swenson went to stand on his neighbour’s other side. No one other than Victoria saw as Heath pulled the head of his horse around and left the yard.

Jarrod was torn. He was sworn to uphold the law, to defend it wherever and whatever. But in this case, the law was clearly wrong. He looked up and met the eyes of his mother, eyes that had never held condemnation, only love, support and pride.

Suddenly, he knew. No matter what choices he had made against his father’s wishes, no matter how many arguments they’d had over Jarrod’s path in life, Jarrod understood that at heart he was as much his mother’s son as his father’s, Victoria Barkley being just as ready to fight for what she believed in by whatever means necessary. Jarrod knew that in his world, that fight was usually in a court of law, but this time, Tom Barkley’s way was the only way that justice could truly be served. With complete conviction, Jarrod walked over to stand beside his brother, the rest of the valley farmers who had come to fight the fire moving in behind them.

“Harry, I’ve known you most of my life,” Jarrod said, posture and expression implacable, “and respected you. Enough to be honest.”

“Any man who comes to try to take that farm, he’s going to be killed,” Nick finished for his brother.

The sheriff looked from one unyielding face to another and responded in kind. “I’m sorry to hear that, because I’m going to be with them.”