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Be A Man	By : cowgirl65 Category: 1 through F > The Big Valley Views: 3051 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I in no way own The Big Valley. I make no money from writing this, just the personal satisfaction of (hopefully!) entertaining those who love the show as much as I do.

Chapter List
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Sitting in the back of the wagon, Jarrod maintained a firm hold on his feelings. He wasn’t weak, no matter what his father said, and he wasn’t going to give into the homesickness that already plagued him a mere twenty miles from home. The wagon’s contents shifted and the sixteen year old was sandwiched even further between the crates and barrels. He’d always travelled by river before; his father was proud of their hard-earned wealth and made sure everyone knew it, so the family always had a first class cabin on one of the riverboats whenever they made the trip from Stockton to San Francisco.
But the only money Jarrod had was the half eagle he’d saved from his last birthday so he needed to be frugal. He supposed he owed Tom some sort of respect as his son, but Jarrod didn’t want to be beholden to him in any way. He rubbed his still sore cheek. His father had hit him pretty hard after that last argument. Tom informed Jarrod that since he had finally finished school, his oldest son was going to start working solely on the ranch. He said in no uncertain terms was his son going to become some town dandy and he further said the ranch hands had all been instructed that they were to ‘make a man’ out of him. When Jarrod refused, Tom almost knocked him down with a heavy blow. Jarrod chose not to waste any more breath arguing that a lot of respected men were lawyers, not ranchers, author of the Declaration of Independence Thomas Jefferson being only one. He just packed his bag, waited until the wee hours of the morning and rode into Stockton. He’d left the horse at the livery, not wanting to give his father any reason to have the law track him down as a horse thief. He didn’t really think his father would do that, but wouldn’t put it past him to use the horse as an excuse if he wanted to bring back his wayward son.
He found a man cursing over a half-loaded wagon of freight and quickly took advantage of the fact that the man’s partner was too hung over to get the job done to make it to San Francisco by the deadline for the ship the cargo was destined for. Jarrod received a dollar for helping load the wagon, a ride to the city and was promised another dollar if he helped unload at the docks when they arrived.
Jarrod’s heart ached when he thought of what he was leaving behind, even though he couldn’t see he had any other choice. His mother would be heartbroken, he knew, even with the letter he’d left for her. He thought of how he might never race his brother Nick over the fields again and hoped their father would let his younger brother take the place at his side Jarrod knew Nick was born for. He then thought of his baby sister, only three, and wondered if Audra would even remember the big brother who played horsie with her and read her stories from his books to settle her at bedtime. Jarrod didn’t assume he’d ever come back, but he knew the wide open spaces of the San Joaquin Valley would always be home.
The wagon hit a large rut and Jarrod winced as one of the crates hit his foot. The owner’s partner was sleeping off his binge in the front seat which relegated Jarrod to cargo. It wasn’t really fair since he’d done most of the work, but he wasn’t in any position to complain. And the drunken man would likely have already been crushed, Jarrod told himself and squirmed into what he hoped was a more stable position.
It took them three days to get to San Francisco and Jarrod volunteered to take care of the horses when they stopped each night. The young man didn’t shirk at anything he was asked to do and ended up with a place on the wagon seat for part of the day in return for his hard work. When they arrived in the city, the wagon made its slow way down to the busy docks and Jarrod helped unload the freight into the warehouse where it would wait for the ship that was to take it up the coast.
“You’re a hard worker, son,” the wagon’s owner said as he gave Jarrod his promised wage and a bit more. “I added a little for all the help you were on the trail and I’ve put in a good word for you with Cal Parker who owns this warehouse. He’s always looking for strong backs if you want a job.”
Jarrod stood a little straighter at the praise. “Thank you, sir,” he said. He hadn’t been sure how he would support himself in the city. As a rule, reading law didn’t pay and he did have to eat. “Could you direct me to him, sir?”
“Over there.” A burly man with handlebar moustaches was talking to another man. The owner of the wagon extended a hand and Jarrod shook it. “Good luck, son.”

Jarrod picked up his bag, took a deep breath and walked over.
“Mr. Parker?” he asked politely when the conversation was finished. “I understand you have a job available.”
The man looked him over. “Well,” he said as he stroked his moustache, “I was hoping to find someone a little bigger, but I guess beggars can’t be choosers.” Jarrod made himself stand firm at the slight insult. He knew it wasn’t personal but the comment did hit a bit too close to home. Parker jerked his head. “Put your stuff in the office over there. There’s another two wagons to unload. Carl here’ll show you where they are.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” Jarrod said as he rushed to stow his bag in the office and immediately got to work. He was tired and hot by the time all the freight was unloaded but earned himself a hearty clap on the back, as well as another two bits.
“I’m impressed,” Parker said. “Now I’m looking for someone for the early shift to load the ships heading up the coast. Starts about five, the ships sail at ten. I can offer you $5 a week, Sundays off.” He waited for Jarrod’s reply.
Jarrod didn’t have to think long. It wasn’t as much as the labourers on the ranch earned but he figured he could get by, even with the higher prices in the city. Besides, the hours would hopefully give him time to read law, assuming he could find someone who would give him the chance. “You won’t regret this, sir,” he told Parker as he shook his hand.
Jarrod’s new employer recommended an inexpensive rooming house a few blocks away. As he pulled up the well-worn but clean blanket, the young man desperately fought off his homesickness. The shouts and catcalls of sailors from the wharfs were a far cry from the soothing lowing of cattle that he would hear from his window at home. But Jarrod knew the stifling air of the city was more bearable than the stifling atmosphere back in Stockton. He’d seen it before, men turned bitter and old before their time after being thrust into a life not of their choosing and he was determined it wouldn’t happen to him.
Jarrod sighed as he tried to get comfortable on the lumpy mattress. It hadn’t always been that way, he remembered. At one point, he would have been thrilled to work the ranch at his father’s side. But the accident a couple years ago had changed all that as he became an object of Tom Barkley’s scorn and shame instead of his pride and joy.
Jarrod resolutely held back a tear and pushed back the slight anxiety that came with the memory. It was better now, he told himself, he had worked through the nightmare, even if his goal had changed and it was too late to regain his father’s respect. He drifted off to sleep, but the events haunted him once again in his dreams.
Jarrod wanted to make his father proud; there was no better rancher in the valley than Tom Barkley. He had been sent off on his own to gather up some far-ranging strays and Tom’s eldest son was determined not to fail. His horse galloped across the open range when the animal suddenly stumbled. Jarrod tried to kick free from the stirrups as he’d been taught, but he wasn’t fast enough and he felt a crushing weight on his chest and leg as his mount fell heavily to the ground. He must have blacked out, because the next time he opened his eyes, the sun was already sinking below the horizon. The horse’s chest heaved with laboured breathing and from its feeble struggles, Jarrod knew one of the bay’s legs must be broken. His first thought was that he couldn’t let the animal suffer. Thankfully, his right arm and leg were free and Jarrod drew the revolver he’d received not long before for his fourteenth birthday.
“It’s okay, boy,” he murmured sadly as he cocked the hammer and squeezed the trigger. The bay jerked once and then was still.
It was a terrifying night, trapped under the cooling body of his horse. Jarrod tried without success to push his way free and as the hours marched on, his own body grew numb and he could hear the howls of coyotes move closer. He clutched the pistol tightly but eventually blacked out again as he succumbed to the fear and pain.
Jarrod struggled to get free until he realized he wasn’t trapped under the darkness of his dead horse, he was lying on the narrow bad of a rooming house in San Francisco. The off-key warbling of a lone man likely making his way from one of the waterfront saloons drifted through the air. Jarrod sat on the edge of the bed for a moment and then made his way to the rickety washstand to pour himself a drink of the tepid water in the pitcher.
The months of recovery came back with painful clarity. He wasn’t found until early the next morning and didn’t recall much of the next few days. His left leg was broken in two places, he had several broken ribs and developed pneumonia from lying trapped for so long. His father tried to get him back into the saddle as soon as his leg was out of splints, but he was still weak from his illness and his mother wouldn’t hear of it. Jarrod spent weeks in his room with nothing to do but read the books Silas brought with his meals and the work Nick brought home for him from school. He smiled as he remembered the hours his normally active little brother spent playing checkers and cards. He hadn’t really thanked Nick adequately for that, he thought with a pang of regret, and wondered if he’d ever get the chance.
But the books he spent his convalescence reading had opened his mind to a world of possibilities he’d never thought of before. Jarrod had always been a good student, but also had assumed he’d work by his father’s side when he was done school. During his recovery, he devoured the works of Thoreau and Emerson and followed the forcing of Indian tribes off their land in the wake of the gold rush in the newspapers. He became fascinated with the rise in politics of a humble Illinois lawyer by the name of Abraham Lincoln. It was those examples that started him thinking of a career in law. If right-minded men didn’t stand up for justice, then there would be no justice at all.
Jarrod crawled back into bed. He’d never wanted to disappoint his father. Even with his new thoughts on what he might do with his life, he’d been eager to get back out on the range at Tom’s side. When he got back on a horse and the animal started moving, however, Jarrod panicked at the remembered horror of falling and being trapped. When the horse sensed his fear and sidestepped restlessly, Jarrod dropped the reins and clutched white-knuckled to the saddlehorn.
He closed his eyes tightly. He could still hear his father yelling at him, the horse getting more agitated and eventually bucking him off. He hadn’t been able to make himself remount and Tom practically manhandled him back into the saddle with the same results. He could still see the disgust on his father’s face as he rode off and left his teenage son lying scared in the dirt.
He wasn’t that frightened boy anymore, Jarrod told himself. He’d known he had to get back on a horse at some point and, when no one was around, worked through his fear on his own by starting on the gentle old pony both he and Nick had learned to ride on. But the damage had already been done. Even after the long months he spent to conquer the panic and asked to help out around the ranch again, Tom derided him, stating that he was weak and berating his mother for making his son into a mama’s boy. Jarrod no longer wanted a life on the ranch and decided to pursue his other dreams, even though they were shot down with a vengeance when he broached them to his father.
The choice had been made. He couldn’t go back, not and be true to himself. With a determination born of being his parents’ son, Jarrod pulled the blanket over his head and tried again to get some sleep.
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Be A Man