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Brothers
By : cowgirl65
Category: 1 through F > The Big Valley
Views: 3162 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: i don't own The Big Valley and make no money from this.
Chapter List
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It took Heath a few more days before he decided to put his plan into motion. He’d been reading the papers and following Barkley’s fight against the Coastal and Western Railway’s move to take a number of farms in the San Joaquin Valley. His family looked to be on the side of the angels in their staunch defence of their fellow man, but Heath had to wonder if they were only fighting on principle since Tom Barkley had died in the first battle of the same war. Even though he couldn’t bring himself to want more kudos for the high and mighty Barkleys, Heath found himself hoping that Jarrod Barkley’s bill would be passed for the farmers’ sakes. He couldn’t imagine having something that he’d sweated and slaved over for ten years be ripped out from under him.
But he heard that Barkley was going to be heading back to Stockton soon to continue the fight from there and he knew that it was now or never. Barkley was too much in the public eye at the moment to risk a scandal and Heath was confident that he’d back his claim even if he wasn’t welcomed with open arms.
As he packed his few belongings, Heath also had to admit he was eager to see Jarrod Barkley again. That night had been some of the best sex he’d ever had and, brother or not, he was determined to have that tight ass again even if he had to blackmail Barkley into that too. Heath grimaced. It went against everything he’s been taught to resort to blackmail. He’d learned to read at his mama’s knee, puzzling out passages from her worn Bible and those words had stuck with him all these years. ¹”But I say unto you, love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute you.” That passage came unbidden to his mind and Heath almost decided not to go to Stockton, to just forget he’d ever heard the name Tom Barkley and go on with his life. But there was another passage as well.²”Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burning for burning, wound for wound, stripe for stripe.” Tom Barkley had rutted with his mother and abandoned her, had gotten her with child and left her to struggle on her own. Heath was owed that eye, those stripes, and by Hell or high water, he was going to collect.
But his family had nothing to do with it, Heath’s conscience whispered. But they’d been living high on the hog while Heath had to do with whatever he could find. They had everything while Heath had nothing. Less than nothing since his mama was now dead. Heath ruthlessly shoved his conscience away and continued packing.

Jarrod watched the valley pass by the window of his private railcar. The valley he’d fought to save for those who’d toiled to make it some of the richest farmland in the state. The valley he loved and had failed utterly.
The porter poked his head in. “Mr. Crown said he’d come by in two minutes, Mr. Barkley.”
“Thank you, James.”
The porter nodded and left and Jarrod turned back to the window. He tried to ready his mind for the confrontation with Jordan’s right-hand man but other thoughts came unbidden instead. Thoughts of being pinned to a mattress, the imagined feeling of being filled of capacity and fucked for all he was worth filled his mind. He didn’t know how someone he’d met only once could affect him this much, but not an hour went by that he didn’t think of Heath and the way the other man made him feel. With everything going on, he hadn’t gotten a chance to look for another liaison and didn’t know if it was only Heath or if any well-favoured man would do. And from the way things were going, he wasn’t sure when he’d get the opportunity.
At that minute the door opened and Crown entered. Jarrod walked over, shook the other man’s hand and handed him a small glass of sherry. “May I offer you a bite of lunch?” he asked as they walked to the table.
“I usually don’t,” Crown said, moving to the chair opposite Jarrod.
“No?”
Crown sat. “Not really.”
Jarrod sat as well, pushing all other thoughts aside the same way he did when he was in a courtroom or on the floor of the legislature. “That's the mark of an ambitious man. Also leads to an ulcer. Eat lunch, Crown. It's good for your health.” He picked up his own glass. “Well, what shall we drink to?” He waited while Crown considered.
“To a new day.” Crown lifted his glass.
This wasn’t the type of a new day that Jarrod would ever drink to. “No. No, I think I have a better one. To the man who won it, your lord and master, Hannibal Jordan.”
Crown saluted with his glass and they drank.
But Jarrod couldn’t leave it at that. “Who, with one quick tug of his fat, grubby little fist makes paupers out of 2,000 men.” Jarrod sat back, posture deceptively casual. “Think of it, Crown, the genius. 2,000 farmers, living on land they settled, homesteaded, worked...”
“Railroad land,” Crown interrupted.
“Sold to them.”
“Leased.”
But Jarrod didn’t skip a beat. “Sold to them 10 years ago at auction and you know it.”
“You took that case to the legislature. You got your bill out of committee and onto the floor and passed.”
“And vetoed.” That stuck in Jarrod’s craw. One man shouldn’t be able to overturn the will of the entire elected body, even the governor of the state. It smacked of partisanship, or more likely, bribery.
“It was illegal. The governor killed it.”
Now Jarrod’s temper started to boil at the unfairness of it all. What was the use of having a democracy if one man held all the power? He held himself firmly in check, but still snapped, “Jordan killed it.”
“And now you're preparing a move to rescind.”
Jarrod stared out the window. “I am.” Hopefully, someone would remind the governor that the people he was fucking around had elected him and could depose him just as easily.
Crown held up his glass again. “So meanwhile, to peace.”
Jarrod didn’t drink; he wasn’t about to be pacified that easily. He looked out the window again. “You know, Crown, over that hill there there's a town, land worked and tilled… olives, figs, grapes, cattle…” He knew the work that went into making a life for a family. His parents had come to the valley with nothing but determination. The life of privilege he now led started in a small one-room cabin with a leaky roof and as a small boy, he’d worked as hard as his mother and father to stay clothed and fed. He couldn’t imagine being told it was all for nothing. “That's an awful lot to ask a man to give up... peacefully.”
“That's what you're going to tell the men?”
Jarrod feigned innocence. He wanted a peaceful solution as well, but he knew the temperament of his neighbours, not to mention his brother Nick. “I, Crown?”
Crown leaned forward, his posture earnest. “Oh, you're the one they're going to turn to, you or your brothers, just like they did your father.”
Jarrod leaned onto his elbows, bringing himself closer to his adversary. “You'd like to know how I'm going to advise them, is that it?”
Crown swirled the sherry in his glass and watched it as he spoke. “Well, let's say I'd like you to know what will happen if you advise them improperly. How many was it last time, Barkley? Ten dead? Twelve? Not even for openers.”
Jarrod didn’t acknowledge the implied threat, even though his belly clenched at the memory of his father’s body covered in blood and his mother’s tears. Instead he only said, “The day of the spike and iron, is that it?”
Crown leaned back and Jarrod fought the urge to smack that smug expression off his face. “No man can beat it.”
Jarrod turned to the window again and a sudden movement caught his eye. A man on a horse, racing the train. “There’s one who’s sure trying.” He’d heard of men attempting to beat the iron horse with a flesh and blood one, but had never actually seen it. Sometimes they succeeded, but when they failed the attempt, it often cost them their lives.
Crown came around to peer out the window as well. “Oh, not a chance.”
That dismissal brought out the gambler in Jarrod and he couldn’t resist goading his opponent. He turned to Crown. “Fifty.”
“One hundred,” Crown countered and the bet was on.
They moved outside to keep pace with the rider, who was slowly passing them. Jarrod urged a reluctant Crown into the next car. They pushed their way through the crowd that was encouraging the rider and Jarrod upped the ante. “Five hundred,” and wasn’t surprised when Crown raised to seven fifty.
Jarrod paused outside between the cars. The rider was finally close enough for Jarrod to see his face and when he recognized him, Jarrod couldn’t contain a wide grin. That man deserved more faith than seven fifty. “A thousand,” he challenged Crown. He watched as Heath leaned low over his horse’s neck and encouraged her with slaps of the reins. His mount responded with a new surge of speed. The excitement building in Jarrod’s belly was making his way to his cock and he was glad Crown was behind him.
“Twelve fifty.”
Jarrod turned to look at Crown. The other man didn’t exhibit the same enthusiasm, but Jarrod’s recklessness was still growing. He nodded his acceptance and turned back to the race.
Then Heath looked straight at him and Jarrod thought his heart would stop in his chest. The train blew its whistle to signal the upcoming crossing and Heath turned his attention back to the road. He continued to gain on the locomotive and Jarrod had to go higher. “Fifteen hundred.”
Crown nodded unenthusiastically and Jarrod’s attention went back to the finish of the race. His gut clenched at how close Heath was going to cut it and Jarrod suddenly wasn’t sure the other man was going to make it. Pull up, he thought, but he couldn’t imagine the man who’d taken him so forcefully would ever turn back from something he’d started. So Jarrod watched and prayed and raced with Crown to the other side to see Heath gallop off into the hills. He laughed in giddy relief.
“So no man beats the iron, eh, Crown?” Jarrod tucked his hand into his pocket and leaned against the back of the car.
“Well, sometimes, maybe for a while.” Crown pulled out his billfold and counted out fifteen hundred. “But sooner or later, like all men, they die... and all they leave behind is dust.” He handed the money to Jarrod. “That from a man who doesn't eat lunch.”
Crown went inside and Jarrod followed, his enthusiasm dampened by the spectre of what was to come.

Heath had had himself a day. A dunking in the river after an unexpected encounter with an arrogant cowboy he suspected was the second Barkley son Nick, that inexplicable urge to race a train and thinking he saw Jarrod Barkley on the same train urging him on, topped off by an encounter with a blonde-haired, blue-eyed wildcat at the side of his father’s grave.
He let his mare pick her way down the trail as he considered the conversation with the blonde spitfire who’d turned out to be his sister. He didn’t really know what prompted him to tell her he was looking for work, but thinking on it some more, it might be a good idea to try to get hired on at the Barkleys’. Get the lay of the land, so to speak, before deciding on a course of action. If it had been Nick Barkley on the bridge, Heath was suspected the man might be worthy of respect, arrogance or not.
Then there was Jarrod and Heath had to adjust his pants at the thought of being with him again. Damn, Heath thought he’d only propositioned him to gain some leverage, but he couldn’t get that night out of his mind and didn’t know where to place him. Hot and shameless in bed and from all accounts, a tireless crusader for the rights of others. Could he take out the sins of the father on the son? He supposed he’d have to wait and see.
Heath passed through the large gates and stopped to take in what was in front of him. A large white mansion surrounded by elegant pillars dominated the yard, but he could still see an impressive spread of barns and other buildings beyond. So this was what it meant to be a Barkley. He shook his head and gigged his mare to the porch where he saw three men standing, Nick, Jarrod and what was probably the youngest, Eugene.
They came over to stand in front of him. Heath knew it was bad manners to stay mounted, but he liked the feeling of being able to look down on those rich Barkleys. Nick was sporting a wide grin and Jarrod… Heath wasn’t sure what to make of the expression on the lawyer’s face. He gave them all a grin of his own. “”Small world, ain’t it?” The comment was directed more at Jarrod than Nick and he noticed Jarrod start to smile.
“Something for you?” Nick asked.
Heath decided not to let on that he already knew who he was talking to. “Mr. Barkley if you know where I can find him.”
Nick threw a look at both his brothers. “Take your choice.”
If Heath was really to have his choice, he’d pick the eldest, strip him naked and fuck him right there on the porch of the grand house. But that could wait for later. Instead he just said, “Well, I was told Nick does the hiring.”
“Of what?” Nick’s expression grew slightly suspicious and Heath wondered why. If anyone knew more than they should about him, it was Jarrod.
“Well, line boss, hay waddy, hasher, cow prod, jingler. You name it, I've done it.” He threw a quick glance in Jarrod’s direction. Yep, he’d done him too.
“What’s your name?” Even as Jarrod asked it, Heath could see the knowing grin and decided to play along as though they’d just met.
“Heath.”
“I was on that train this afternoon. Quite a race.” So it really had been Jarrod he’d seen standing there. Heath suddenly wondered if Jarrod had been impressed at all or just thought it was the act of a fool.
He just shrugged. “No contest. Not the way those cabbage stacks come off a turn.”
But Nick was still suspicious. “Where you from?”
“West of the divide.” No one expected a man to answer questions about himself, so Heath kept his short.
But Nick had obviously forgotten that unwritten rule. “How west?”
“Pretty much all over.”
“Last place you worked?”
Heath was getting tired of the interrogation. “Corning,” he answered shortly.
Then Jarrod stepped in, his eyes never leaving Heath and Heath started to get aroused at the intensity of the gaze. “Sign him on, Nick.”
Nick glared at his brother. “To what?” he asked indignantly. “We’re full.”
“Well, he did me a little favour this afternoon. Sign him on.”
And a bigger favour a week ago, Heath smirked inwardly, if the wink Jarrod gave Nick was anything to go by. The lawyer turned and walked away, leaving Nick and the silent younger man in front of Heath.
“Now take your gear over to the bunkhouse. See McNally. Tell him to sign you on,” Nick told him reluctantly. Apparently the oldest son’s word carried a lot of weight, even if Nick did the hiring.
Heath tipped his hat to the two men, turned his mount’s head and rode off.

¹Matthew 5:44
²Exodus 21:24-25
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Brothers	By : cowgirl65 Category: 1 through F > The Big Valley Views: 3162 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: i don't own The Big Valley and make no money from this.

Brothers