Adult-FanFiction.org : Television / Streaming

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
- 6
- 7
- 8
warning: this chapter contains triggers for suicide
Sitting at the desk that he and Nick shared at the ranch, Jarrod signed the note with a trembling hand before folding it and writing his brother’s name on the front. He knew he was compounding one sin with another, but after what happened that last time with Jordan he just couldn’t go on.
The sick feeling came back as he remembered how he’d actually wanted it. Instead of just enduring like he had over the past four years, Jarrod found himself begging for sexual release as Jordan tormented him. Jordan had brought him to orgasm in the past, but when Jordan used his gun to fuck Jarrod, he became an actual participant and let his base urges take over. He strained for it, he worked for it and when he finally came, it was with a desire and euphoria he hadn’t felt any of the times before.
Everything he was had been corrupted and he realized he couldn’t live with that. He could just walk away, break his agreement with Jordan and prepare for his retaliation. They weren’t in the same situation as they’d been in four years ago when he tried before and Audra was kidnapped; it would still be hard but not impossible to protect them now. But he’d still be the same dirty whore who cried for Jordan to fuck him harder and how could he believe he wouldn’t fall further? If he was that depraved, who was to say he wouldn’t ultimately become like Jordan himself?
Jarrod strapped on his gunbelt, left the house and saddled his horse. Mounting, only one destination came to mind and Jarrod turned the sorrel’s nose in the direction of the lake he’d named Isla de Cielo long ago.
*
“Mail!” Nick yelled as he closed the door. Victoria came down the stairs and gave him a disapproving look.
“Must you, Nick?”
Nick shrugged. “It’s a big house,” he said cheekily and handed her an envelope. “Where’s Jarrod? I got a few things here for him too.”
“He rode off a few minutes ago.” Victoria sighed. “I’m worried about him, Nick. He just hasn’t been himself lately and he’s working himself too hard. He needs to take some time off, but every time I suggest it…” She shook her head.
Nick draped an arm around her shoulders. “Why don’t I take him fishing?” he suggested. It wasn’t lost on him either that Jarrod seemed even more worn and tired than usual when he came back from San Francisco the last time. “It’s been too long since just the two of us went off together for a weekend.”
“Nick, that’s a wonderful idea.” Victoria smiled in relief. “I think that’ll do wonders for both of you. You’ve both been working too hard.”
Nick gestured with the letters. “I’ll just put these on the desk, put some supplies together and go find him. Don’t worry if we’re not back for a few days.”
“Thank you, Nick.”
Nick dropped Jarrod’s mail on the desk and took a brief look through the papers on it in case there was something that needed his attention before he took off for a few days with his brother. His eyes caught a folded piece of paper with his name written on top in Jarrod’s hand. Leaning back on the desk, he unfolded it and scanned the contents.
Nick,
I won’t be able to protect the family from Hannibal Jordan any longer so you need to watch out for him. I don’t know what he’ll do, but you need to be prepared.
Please tell Mother, Audra and Gene that I love them dearly and I hope you know I’ve always been proud to call you my brother. I hope someday you can forgive me.
Jarrod
Nick’s hand started shaking as he read it over again. He knew Jarrod had begun drinking and smoking more after their father’s death, spending more and more time away from the ranch and Nick had urged him to take it easy more than once. But with that letter in his hand, he realized Jarrod had been acting even less like himself lately. Nick didn’t think he’d seen his brother without a cigar or a drink in his hand since he returned home a few days ago, that was any time he’d actually seen his brother. They usually spent some time together in the evenings, playing cards or just shooting the breeze, but Jarrod had been retreating to his room right after supper, a supper that Nick suspected Jarrod didn’t eat at all. If he thought about it, Jarrod spent most of the time pushing his food around his plate and Nick had to wonder why no one had noticed.
He hadn’t realized the situation had deteriorated so far and his stomach clenched anxiously. Even though he hadn’t written it outright, Nick knew Jarrod’s note was meant to be final.
He shook off the paralyzing fear. He had to act and he had to act now if he ever wanted to see his brother alive again.
Mother said he didn’t ride out that long ago. Maybe I can catch up with him before… Nick refused to think it. With deliberate strides, he went out to the yard and grabbed the reins of the first saddled horse he came to. He didn’t say anything to the men as he spurred the horse out of the yard but it wasn’t long before he stopped. Where the devil was he supposed to look? There were thousands of acres and Nick knew time wasn’t on his side. Racking his brain, he came up with a list of places Jarrod might go and one stood out in particular. Urging the horse in his chosen direction, Nick tried to banish the thought that if he was wrong, it would probably cost him his brother.
Jarrod tied Jingo’s reins loosely to the saddlehorn after dismounting so the sorrel could make his way back to the ranch on his own. He walked down the slope and gazed at the pristine water. The lake was so peaceful and so serene, so completely unlike the torment inside him.
Sitting on a fallen log, Jarrod pulled out his revolver and turned it over in his hand. It could have been different. He could have turned Jordan down when the offer was first made and joined forces with Nick to beat the rail baron back. But instead he’d agreed and became Jordan’s whore, all because of his depraved desires.
He knew his family would be devastated by his death, but it would be far, far worse on them if they found out what kind of man he really was. He’d worked to protect them from Jordan, now he had to protect them from himself.
Jarrod’s hand shook as he pressed the barrel of the gun against his temple. All he had to do was pull the trigger and the pain would be gone. He tightened his grip slowly, but just before he squeezed it hard enough, his hand collapsed to his knees. Could he really let one of his family, Nick most likely, find him with part of his head blown off and his brains splattered on the ground? That would be even more cruel than just finding his lifeless body.
So instead, Jarrod pulled out the knife he always kept in his boot in case of emergencies. That way they’d be able to hide the true cause of his death and let everyone believe it was an accident rather than suicide so his actions wouldn’t hurt them any further. Pushing up his sleeves, he held the sharp blade to his wrist, took a deep breath and sliced into the flesh with one smooth stroke before gripping the knife with his injured hand and doing the same to the other side. It hurt, but it was a better hurt than what he’d endured at Jordan’s hands and his own. He watched the bright red blood spill onto the ground and finally let the tears stream down his face. I’m sorry, he told his family silently when the world started to spin as his life drained away, I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I’m sorry.
Nick saw the flash of silver as the knife tumbled from Jarrod’s hand and his body slumped to the ground. Vaulting out of the saddle, his feet hitting the ground at a run, he refused to think that he might be too late.
The amount of blood pooling around Jarrod was appalling, but Nick could hear the faint wheezing of breath. “Hold on, big brother,” he muttered, tearing the bandana off his neck and tightly wrapping Jarrod’s left wrist. He recovered the fallen knife and cut off the sleeve off Jarrod’s shirt to bind the other side. He sliced the shirt into more strips and wound them securely around Jarrod’s arms until he ran out of fabric.
“Why Jarrod?” he asked while he worked to save his brother’s life. “What was so bad that you couldn’t talk to me?” Because that was what hurt the most, more than Jarrod being driven to the point of wanting to take his own life. Anyone could reach rock bottom, but Nick had always believed there was nothing so bad that he and his brother couldn’t talk about it. He’d obviously failed Jarrod somehow and could only pray that he’d have the chance to fix it, whatever it was.
Finally satisfied that he’d staunched the bleeding, Nick hoisted Jarrod over his shoulder, carried him up the hill and slung him across Jingo’s saddle, thankful the faithful sorrel hadn’t wandered away. The horse snorted uneasily, but didn’t move while Nick made sure Jarrod was stable. Fighting the urge to spur his horse into fast gallop, Nick kept it to a slow walk so Jarrod wasn’t jostled too much. There was a line shack not too far away, but the minutes seemed like hours and Nick sagged in relief when the wooden structure came into view. He managed to get Jarrod inside and on the small cot, then went to the well for some cold water. He knew Jarrod’s wounds needed stitches, but he was loath to go after the doctor and have anyone else know what Jarrod tried to do. He’d done his share of field surgery in the war; there had to be a mending kit around somewhere and Nick rummaged through the shelves until he found it, a roll of bandages and a bottle of whiskey.
“Sorry, Jarrod,” he said as he carefully unwrapped one wrist, “it might not be pretty, but I’ll do my best.” The wound was still bleeding sluggishly as Nick cleaned it with water and the whiskey and he knew he had to work fast; Jarrod couldn’t afford to lose much more blood. He quickly stitched up the gash as neatly as he could, dosed it liberally with more alcohol and bound it tightly with the clean bandages before doing the same on the other side. He hoped none of the tendons were damaged as he tucked a blanket tightly around his brother and settled in a chair, praying that Jarrod hadn’t lost too much blood and would wake up soon.
Jarrod woke to dizziness and nausea and it took him a few moments to realize why his arms hurt so much. Obviously someone had found him; he’d never thought he could feel worse than when he slit his wrists, but he did. He couldn’t even get something as simple as his own death right.
“Here, Pappy, drink this.”
He’d know Nick’s voice anywhere and knew there was no point in trying to argue, so he let his brother lift his head and pour cool water down his throat. He hadn’t realized he was so thirsty until the glass was empty and his head was gently lowered to the pillow.
Jarrod didn’t know what to say to his brother; he didn’t know if there was anything he could say so he just lay there. Not that it was hard to do with him being weak as a newborn kitten. He knew it wouldn’t last long though; Nick was only patient to a point and soon there would come questions that Jarrod knew he’d have to answer if he didn’t want to hurt his brother more than he had already.
But Nick surprised him when all he did was rest a gentle hand on his shoulder and tell him, “Rest, Jarrod. I’ll have some broth ready if want it when you get up.”
“Thanks,” Jarrod whispered. I don’t deserve a brother like you, was his last thought before dropping back to sleep.
Jarrod slept for almost sixteen hours, waking only briefly several times for a drink of water. Nick used some of the dried jerky stored in the line shack to make a broth to help Jarrod regain his strength, all the time keeping a close eye on his brother. He also collected all the sharp objects he could find, feeling a bit guilty as he did so, and placed them, along with his and Jarrod’s revolvers, in a tied bag on the corner of a high shelf. There was no point in tempting fate, after all; he had no idea what Jarrod’s state of mind might be when he fully woke.
A low groan drew Nick back to the bed. Jarrod was trying to sit and Nick wrapped an arm around him to give him some support. “Here,” he said as he tucked some extra blankets to prop Jarrod up, “let me help.”
Jarrod only nodded and let Nick tuck the blankets around him securely to help him stay upright. Questions were clambering to be asked, but Nick knew now wasn’t the time. He was glad their mother thought they were off fishing; they had a few days before anyone would even think to come looking for them and hopefully they could work everything out by then. So instead of demanding answers, he went to the stove and spooned out a bowl of hot broth. “Here, Jarrod, you need this.” He didn’t even get the expected protest when he started feeding it to Jarrod and knew he was going to need all his tact and patience to help his brother.
Jarrod made a small face. “That’s awful, Nick,” he protested weakly, but continued letting Nick feed him.
“I may be a lot of things, but a gourmet chef isn’t one of them. I leave that to Silas.” It made Nick happy to see the smile at the corner of Jarrod’s mouth. “I’m sure there’s rabbits around. I’ll set up a couple snares when you’re up to some roast hare.”
The bowl was empty quickly. “Want some more?” Nick asked and Jarrod shook his head.
“Maybe later.”
Nick set the bowl on the table and sat back in the chair beside the bed. “Jarrod, whatever it is you can tell me. I just wish you would’ve confided in before you…” His voice broke and he swiped the tears off his face. “Dammit, Jarrod, why didn’t you let me help you before you got to this point?” he snapped and immediately regretted it when Jarrod cringed at the angry words.
“I’m sorry, Nick.” Jarrod wouldn’t meet his eyes. “You should have just left me.”
Taking a deep breath to settle himself, Nick told him firmly, “You’re my brother, Jarrod. I’ll never leave you, no matter what.” He reached out to gently grab Jarrod’s arm. “I get that you don’t want to talk right now, but I’ll be here when you do.” The emotion threatened to overwhelm him and Nick turned away, not wanting Jarrod to see any more tears. His brother didn’t need that on his conscience as well.
“I sold myself to Jordan, Nick. Four years ago, after Father died.”
Nick turned slowly, shocked at what he was hearing.
Jarrod was looking down at his bandaged arms. “He made me a deal. Become his lover and he’d make the threat to the valley and our family go away.”
Nick couldn’t say anything. Out of all the things that Jarrod could have said, that was something he would have never even begun to consider.
“I didn’t know what else to do,” Jarrod went on, “so I made the deal. It wasn’t like I hadn’t been with men before. I’ve let him do things to me…” Jarrod shuddered and closed his eyes tightly.
Instead of feeling the disgust he thought he would, Nick’s heart went out to his wounded brother. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the amount of guilt and shame Jarrod had been carrying around for the past few years. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around Jarrod and tell him it didn’t matter, but wasn’t sure how his brother would react. But Jarrod’s next words took the choice out of his hands.
“You’re probably wishing you would have left me there to die,” Jarrod choked out in a whisper.
Nick sat down on the cot and pulled Jarrod into his arms. Jarrod stiffened but Nick didn’t let go. “I told you, Jarrod, I’ll never leave you. You obviously did what you thought you had to and…” This time it was his voice that choked. “I love you, Jarrod. I’m sorry you felt you had to do that and that you didn’t think you could trust me with it.”
Jarrod finally broke and Nick held him tightly as sobs wracked his body. “I’m sorry, Nick, I’m…”
“Shh,” Nick told him. “You need to rest. We’ll have lots of time to talk.”
Jarrod nodded and Nick helped him get settled again. “Just sleep, Jarrod. I’ll still be here when you wake up.”
- 6
- 7
- 8
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

A Small Price To Pay