Betrayals

A/N: Continuing the retelling of ‘Palms of Glory’. Hope you’re enjoying.

Victoria watched with bated breath at the scene unfolding in front of her. It was happening again, but this time it wasn’t her husband, but her sons who were in the line of fire. Her heart trembled in fear as she saw Nick walk to stand defiantly beside Frank Sample, but it was full of pride as well. Tom Barkley may have been a lot of things, but he never backed down from what needed to be done and that spirit and sense of duty had been passed on to his sons.

She noticed movement out of the corner of her eye and turned just in time to see Heath pull his horse’s head around and gallop away. You did that boy a great injustice, Tom, she thought, he should have grown up with a father, with his brothers. She didn’t know much about the young man, only what she could discern from his selfless act in saving Audra, the gentle nature she sensed and the reports of his hard work from the foreman and other ranch hands. She wondered about that unknown woman, this time not as the one whom her husband had betrayed her with, but as the mother of a young boy, shaping him into a man by herself and how hard it must have been for her.

Victoria turned her attention back. She saw the indecision on Jarrod’s face and her heart went out to her eldest child. She knew how much he had anguished about his decision three years ago to continue his defence of a young man wrongly accused of rustling and murder instead of taking up the legal aspects of the fight against the railroad. He’d never actually talked to her about it, but she knew that Jarrod carried around a degree of guilt over his father’s death and hoped the decision he made now was one he could live with. She caught his gaze, biting back a tear as she saw his expression change to one of determination as he strode over to stand beside his brother, enormous pride in the sons she’d borne warring with the knowledge that she could be burying one or both of them beside their father tomorrow.

“Take me home, Cody,” she said softly to the ranch hand who had driven her over.

On the drive back, worry for her sons’ safety fought with thoughts of the young man she knew in her soul was her husband’s son. The past three days since she overheard Jarrod and Nick in the hall were a blur; she’d been acting on instinct to take care of Audra and see to the running of the household and ranch with the boys away. Silas must have realized something was wrong; she couldn’t count the number of times he’d come across her in the dining room, furiously polishing an item of silver.

Heath Thomson was Tom Barkley’s son. Her husband had impregnated another woman and as far as she could tell, abandoned that woman with no means of support, no acknowledgement of the son she’d borne him. Victoria knew the scorn and derision which unwed mothers and their offspring were subjected to and she was saddened to think of that soft-spoken young man enduring the taunts and insults she’d heard directed towards fatherless children from time to time.

As much as it would hurt to have a constant reminder of her husband’s betrayals, those three days had brought her to one inescapable conclusion. Heath was no less a Barkley than Jarrod, Nick or Audra, and Victoria believed he had as much right to that heritage as her own children. She could never take the sins of the father out on the son and prayed that when she talked to the rest of her family, they would agree.

Thanking Cody as he handed her out of the carriage, Victoria walked across the porch and slowly opened the front door, still deep in thought. She stopped, staring, as she saw the object of those thoughts standing at the entrance to the parlour, filling his hat with the apples that were always kept on the small table there. He glanced up, seeing her, and turned back to his task without acknowledging her presence. Quickly striding to the door, Heath paused when he reached her and Victoria saw his father in those sky blue eyes.

She spoke up as he brushed past her to leave. “He was an imperfect man, my husband... and in so many ways that could hurt.” Not looking, Victoria sensed that Heath had turned to pay attention to her words. This son of her husband’s had never known his father like her other boys and in spite of his faults, Tom Barkley had helped shape those boys into men she was proud of and she wanted to give Heath a sense of what his father had been.

“But he never destroyed, only built and gave life. For he knew that what he brought was a changing way, a revolution of its own that said, ‘You are a free man. No one, not railroad, nor Jordan, nor Thomas Barkley, can own you.’ And he knew it was something you won only with courage, pride and leadership. That's what he tried to instill in his sons.” She looked up at Heath, wanting desperately to see that courage, pride and leadership in this unacknowledged son of her husband’s. There was a hint in those blue eyes, something lurking behind the impassive expression. “If you hadn't ridden away tonight, you would have seen that he accomplished it. It's not a battle that can be won in a day, a year, or even ten. And then one day he made a terrible, wretched mistake. He died, before anyone really understood.”

Victoria had to pause, pushing down the tears that threatened, thinking of the other mistakes that Tom had made, mistakes that she hoped were now being rectified.

She stared straight into those blue eyes. “And so, if you were my son, I would say to you, ‘Be proud’, because any son of my husband has a right to be proud. Live as he would live, fight as he would fight, and no one… no one can deny you his birthright.” In Heath’s eyes, Victoria saw echoes of Tom, of Jarrod, even of Nick and Audra. She suddenly wanted to reach out to him, to embrace him as a mother would a son and try to erase some of the pain and doubt she sensed. “That's what I would say to you... if you were my son.”

The moment seemed frozen in time as Heath looked at her, and Victoria finally had to look away, listening as he left and shut the door, hearing the hoofbeats as he galloped his horse out the gate. “You may have failed him, Tom,” she whispered, “but I don’t believe he’s going to fail you. None of your sons have ever failed you.”

*

Heath hurriedly stuffed the apples in his saddlebag before donning his hat and mounting. He really didn’t know why he’d come back. To have a look at what could have been, maybe. When he’d turned to leave the house, that basket of shiny apples was too tempting and he thought of how far they’d go to assuage the gnawing hunger he knew would come before he found another job. Then he saw her standing there, and listened to her words and his world was thrown into turmoil again.

The bay Jarrod had arranged for him at the livery was a solid animal, nothing like his Gal, but adequate. He nudged the gelding in the sides, heading out through the gate at a gallop, running from those perceptive grey eyes. He continued running until he was a mile or so from the house and then he pulled the horse up abruptly.

Running.

He’d done that more times than he could count. Running from the bullies who taunted him for not knowing who his father was; running from the groping hands of his uncle; running from the nightmares that plagued him after the war; running from letting anyone get too close in fear of the pain and rejection that usually followed. And now running from the spectre of the man who sired him, the man who inspired such passion in his neighbours and such devotion in his family, not to mention his own feelings for another of that man’s sons.

But where had all that running got him? Leaving school to work in the mine only resulted in a fear of dark, tight spaces. Enlisting in the army saw him with the blood of too many other young men and boys on his hands, ending in the horror that was his imprisonment at Carterson. Avoiding the company of others only left him friendless and bereft, his only true companion for the past few years the faithful black mare who was now gone.

As his horse moved out from under the trees, Heath slipped from the saddle. The vast heavens were ablaze with stars, the sky a glittering canopy overhead. Dropping the reins and turning in a circle, Heath took in the stars, the trees and the vast open plain in front of him. This was his. All this was a part of his birthright as Tom Barkley’s son. He had the chance to run to something for a change, all he had to do was turn back and take it.

No one can deny you his birthright. Victoria Barkley seemed to acknowledge his right to the Barkley name and heritage. He didn’t figure he could take her words literally, if you were my son, but even though he’d never be a part of the family, there was still the hint of a promise of somewhere to belong.

He thought about Jarrod, about the friendship that had been developing with the dark haired lawyer, the friendship that teetered on the brink of ruin because of Jarrod keeping his suspicion that Heath was a brother to himself. But could he really blame the other man? There had been no proof until his mama’s dying confession and a man like Jarrod would need that proof before acting on what was basically a hunch. Heath found he couldn’t fault Jarrod for not saying anything; he likely would have dismissed it as a wild fantasy himself if not for what his mama had said.

He thought of little Audra, the girl he rescued from the stampeding horse, his sister. He’d only met her briefly when she came by his sick room to shyly thank him for saving her life and to apologize that her recklessness had nearly cost him his. He chuckled at the remembered taste of the lemonade she’d brought, trying to keep a smile on his face when he realized she must’ve accidentally used salt instead of sugar. Boy howdy, he’d love to be a big brother to that little girl. He got the sense that the two of them would have a fine time teasing and tormenting their older brothers and part of him longed to have that chance.

The thought of his brothers brought an image to the forefront, an image Heath knew he’d have to confront before he chose to stay. He sighed, knowing those thoughts would likely take a while, and decided to stop for the night. He tethered his horse to a nearby tree, slipped the bit and removed the saddle. He decided against a fire, quickly munching an apple for supper instead and giving the core to the bay.

Unrolling his bedroll, Heath removed his gunbelt and boots and slipped under the blanket, pillowing his head against the saddle as he finally let his thoughts wander down that dark road he knew he couldn’t avoid any longer.

Nick Barkley. Even thinking his name sent shivers down Heath’s spine and his groin tightened involuntarily. All the men who had used and abused his body to slake their own lusts, all the hard-eyed whores who let him use their bodies to quench his own, none of that had prepared Heath for the longing he felt at Nick’s hands. In spite of himself, he’d responded to those hands, to their gentle strength and even thinking about what Nick had done in the line shack made Heath’s manhood start to harden.

But damn it all, Nick was his brother! Didn’t the Bible say it was a sin to lie with one who was close of kin and didn’t it say it was a sin to be with another man? And didn’t that make a relationship with Nick doubly immoral and the raging hard on he was getting just thinking about it completely evil? Heath’s hand unconsciously went to his pants, rubbing against the straining bulge as he remembered something else.

He thought again of Jarrod’s words, “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?” and thinking of those words made some of his anxiety drain away. Heath gave in to the urges of his body, unbuttoning his pants to let his erection spring free, squeezing it slowly from base to tip.

He remembered more of that same night after he’d crawled into his blankets, snatches of the whispered conversation between men he now knew were his brothers. His breath caught as he realized Jarrod already suspected the relationship when those words were said, and further realized that the educated and principled lawyer hadn’t said a word of condemnation, only support. That revelation sent a rush of blood to his groin and Heath stroked faster, imagining Nick’s hazel eyes as his need built. He closed his eyes, letting himself picture Nick’s hand on his shaft, pumping the swollen organ until Heath felt his balls tighten and his penis pulse, his milky substance spewing forth onto his hand. Heath shuddered as his whole body tensed and convulsed with the strength of his orgasm.

“Niiicckkk,” he groaned, his mind lost in a euphoria that was only rivalled by the climax Nick had brought him to a few days ago. As he relaxed back against the saddle, Heath knew he had to stop running. He didn’t know if Nick was willing to continue that sort of relationship, but Heath knew that even if he didn’t, the potential gain of staying was worth the chance.