Heath had learned early that
life can change in the space of a heartbeat, that wishes, dreams and hopes…all
the small treasures that we hold close to our heart…can fall away and be lost
through some seemingly inconsequential act that gives others mastery over our
fate.
Jeremy Carter didn’t learn that
lesson until it was too late. His face ever so briefly held an expression of
surprise and bemusement when he did. In the instant between intent and
occurrence the path of his life was immutably altered. The sweep of sky and
cloud flowed across his vision, burning into his consciousness one last time.
He saw in them the memories of every sunrise and sunset in his short life and
felt a pang of regret for the ones he’d let pass by unnoticed.
Set against the crystal blue of
a sky kissed with golden sun, his slow progress through the air took on a
balletic grace. His hand opened as he tried to reach out and grab all that he
had squandered in the mistaken notion that there would be more for the
taking. The act sent his hammer
tumbling beside him like some errant moon.
In the first breathtaking
instant of flight he felt the light heart of the hawk as it danced on the wind,
but then the tug of gravity reclaimed him and he arced down and away.
Their eyes met and held until
the connection was lost in an explosion of light and pain.
Jarrod watched the taciturn
face of his younger brother as he walked towards the partially completed
skeleton of the barn that was growing in the ranch yard. He read the simmering
fury in Nick’s eyes as they followed the young man walking away, resigned to
another day of his middle brother’s anger and rejection.
Enough is enough! His patience
had run out and the barely suppressed, almost parental anger of the last two
months boiled up. He reached Nick in a few short strides and spun him on his
heel. The volatile rancher came around swinging, landing the lawyer in the
dust.
“What the…! Geez Jarrod, don’t go grabbin’ me like that. I’m
sorry!”
Jarrod accepted the hand up but
just stared at him, not bothering to hide his wrath behind his usual mask of
manners and control.
“What?! I apologized! You
surprised me big brother!”
“Why did you assign Heath to
work with Jeremy Carter? You know Carter has been one of his biggest
tormentors.”
Nick glared in response.
“Carter’s a hard worker. How I run this ranch is my business, not yours.” He’ll
work with whoever I damn well say he will and if he doesn’t like it he can
leave. Like any other hired help!
“In case you have forgotten
little brother, the Barkley ranch is not your sole dominion. Audra, Eugene,
Mother, myself, and now Heath are as much owners of this ranch as you are. As
for you running things, it looks to me like you are running away from the truth
and straight to Hell.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Nick’s voice had risen to a full bellow. The hands and extra hired men stood in
silence, curious to see how the drama would play out.
Glancing around, not wanting to
air any more of their private business for the audience, Jarrod muted his reply
for his brother’s ears only. “Until today I never knew you to be a vindictive
man Nick. Our father would be ashamed of you.” He matched his younger brother’s
gaze without flinching then glanced over his shoulder, locating the blond head,
meeting the crystal blue eyes among the onlookers. I’m sorry, Heath.
Heath closed his eyes and took
a deep cleansing breath. He hadn’t known until this minute that he’d reached
his limit. Seeing the dismay in Jarrod’s eyes, it was time to surrender and
accept defeat. He would finish the day and leave before dawn. Who am I fooling?
As long as Nick doesn’t want me here there won’t be any family for me. He felt
the dark eyes of the hostile man rake over him from across the yard.
“C’mon Carter, let’s get to
work.” He turned and walked away before Nick had a chance to single him out.
”Well what are you all standing
around for? GET TO WORK!” Nick’s jaw worked in barely suppressed rage and his
scowl followed his elder brother as he joined the framing crews swarming up the
ladders. Who is he to tell me what Father would be ashamed of? He walked away
from the ranch for the Law, and now he’d give away Tom Barkley’s legacy to a
man who’s making the Barkley name a laughing stock.
Raising the rafters was hard
work. At 300 feet long, this would be a bigger barn than any of the others on
the Barkley property, designed to accommodate almost 100 horses. The gambrel
roof would hold feed for the family’s mounts and the Remuda for the entire
winter. Heath and Jeremy worked in hostile silence. If he hadn’t felt the need
to watch his back Heath might have enjoyed the labor, but as it was, the day
stretched on interminably.
Towards noon, they were finally
setting the last of the rafters, working to maneuver the two ends into the
notches on the sill plate. The two men were ranged on either side of the heavy
piece, backs to the others working in the building’s interior. The other end of the rafter had settled
into place easily but this one needed the persuasion of a mallet to force it
into position. The pieces were cut to fit tightly, helping the building support
itself. Heath knelt, wrapping his arms tightly around the rough cut beam,
bracing it against his shoulder and one raised knee to prevent it moving too
far. Jeremy knelt on the other side of
the beam, braced himself with one arm and took up the heavy headed wooden
hammer.
Jeremy hadn’t known what he was
going to do until he swung the heavy tool. All it took was a slight adjustment
of his swing and he watched as the head sailed past the wood and made contact
with the Heath’s knee knocking him off balance. But his inspiration was also
his undoing. Instinctively, Heath reached out to grab whatever he could to keep
from falling. His hands locked onto the
smaller man’s arm and broke his grip on the rafter. It slowed Heath’s backwards
tumble enough to let him kick out his feet and reach out to grab the sill
plate. It was also enough to pitch the lighter man over his head and away from
any hope of salvation.
“Carter!” It had been Heath’s
scream that rose above the pounding of metal on wood and alerted the men strung
out along the wooden framework. He clung in desperation. Without any support,
the rafter tilted towards the rest of the roof frame. Prevented from falling
any further, the loose end changed direction and slid downward across the sill
plate where Heath clung, pinning him thirty feet in the air. Twenty pairs of
eyes stared at the falling man and twenty voices were muted with horror.
In that moment Jeremy Carter’s
flight was the only movement, save for the eyes that followed him. Then even he
was still. For an instant the scene was frozen, but shortly time unstuck and
men rushed Carter’s side. Others hurried to shift the heavy wooden beam, haul
Heath to safety and help him down the skeleton of the building.
In the adrenalin rush of the
moment Heath never notice the pain in his leg or back. He was intent on getting
to Carter. Kneeling beside the man, he flinched at the grotesquely twisted back
and the abdomen already beginning to swell. Carter’s breath was coming hard,
words barely audible between gasps. “Guess you win, bastard.”
With those words, powerful
hands grabbed Heath from behind and pinned him against one of the massive
hardwood uprights. “WHAT DOES HE MEAN? WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED UP THERE?” Nick
was God’s own wrath personified. He punched his younger brother once in the
stomach then again. It was only Duke and Jarrod grabbing his cocked arm and
dragging him away that stopped any further damage.
“Nick! NOT NOW!”
Heath curled around his pain
willing it to stop. Voices flew around him, shouting instructions and offering
comfort to the fallen ranch hand and his younger brother kneeling beside him.
It was the plaintive moaning that finally brought the newest Barkley back to
the present and sent him reeling back into his past at the same time. He
crawled to where the other man lay and grabbed one hand. Someone reached out,
started to object, but the look Heath wore stopped the words before they drew
breath.
“Carter! Carter, look at me!”
Heath spoke low and quiet. As gently as tending an infant he turned the head,
now trailing blood from nose and ears, toward him. “Listen to me Jeremy.” Will
Carter looked on, unsure of what to do.
Jeremy Carter had no sense of
this man as friend or enemy anymore. He only saw the piercing blue eyes and
heard the low soothing voice and wanted anything to take the pain away.
“Jeremy, I know it hurts,
listen to me. Remember back to when you were a boy.”
The eyes stayed fixed on his.
“I’ve heard ya tell stories about livin’ near a creek down in Georgia. Do ya
remember it Jeremy?” A spasm of pain ran through the man’s body and he clenched
the offered hand.
“Remember it Jeremy, go back
there. Go back and sit on the bank.” He continued in that low soothing tone,
cutting through the man’s reality. “See the trees? See the willows hangin’ over
the water, trailin’ their branches down to the surface. If you look hard you
can see the fish hidin’ in the deep water, see the sun when it hits the gold on
their backs.”
“Remember when you were a kid
and y’all would go down to the creek fishing on a hot summer’s day? You’d lie in
the sweet grass under a tree and look up at the sky through the branches. Can
ya smell the earth Jeremy? Rich and musty? Feel the grass ticklin’ your cheek.”
And suddenly, Jeremy was right
where Heath said he was. Back before the war when he still had a family. He’d
been happy and life had seemed like only good things lay ahead. He was back at
home, lying on the bank, with his big brother Tim and their friend George. Will
would sometimes be with them, when Ma made them look after him. He remembered
how they’d spend their summer afternoons in the shade, watching the sun throw
dappled gold on the water. Somehow they never seemed to care if they caught any
fish, it was just good to be there.
Heath continued to murmur in
his low-voiced way and the injured man’s pain lessened. While his words
comforted the other man, they drew Heath back into a personal nightmare.
Jeremy remembered his momma
bringing them a pitcher of lemonade. How she’d use the lemons from their back
yard and make it good and strong but never too sweet like some folks did. Hers
was always tart and ice cold, with chunks of icehouse ice floating in it. They
would watch the trickles of sweat run down the pitcher and pool at the bottom,
marveling at how water could come right out of the air like that. Some days
Momma would bring fresh baked ginger snaps as well. She always said baking for
them was her joy.
He could see her now, her long
dark hair pinned in a casual twist at the nape of her neck, the wide brimmed
hat that shaded her white skin. She was beautiful as all mothers are to their
ten year old sons. She had happy gray eyes; you could always find a smile in
them…and love. She had loved her husband and sons, and it was always written
there for the world to see. He remembered the feel of her warm arm as it snaked
around his waist for a quick hug out of sight of the older boys. He remembered
his need to always kiss her goodbye, no matter what any of his friends might
think. She was smiling at him right now, holding out her hands, reaching for one
more kiss…
Jeremy reached up as if to
touch something invisible, in front of him, then the light went out of his eyes
for good. Heath felt the grip on his hand go slack and sighed. Reaching up he
gently brushed the eyelids closed, then looked up at the faces around him.
“It’s done.” His leg started to
buckle at the strain of crouching and then rising. Suddenly Jarrod’s hands were
there lending support. Like the rest of the crew, the elder Barkley brothers
had stood by helplessly as Heath had offered the only help that would have made
any difference to the dying man.
Duke relaxed his grip on Nick’s
arm. “Okay men, someone go get a buckboard ready and some blankets. The rest of
you, call it a day.” They began to disperse, murmuring among themselves. Unsure
of what to make of what they’d just witnessed. Nick made to follow Heath as he
limped off on his own, but Jarrod restrained him.
“Not you, Nick. Not now. Leave
him be.” Jarrod wasn’t suggesting, he was ordering.
“I need to know what happened.
Jeremy was a good man.”
“There’ll be time enough for
that in a while. “ Jarrod hissed. “For God’s sake, look at his face! I don’t
know what just went on there but it wasn’t easy for him. At least let someone
tend to his injuries” The lawyer’s head tilted towards the blond cowboy who was
leaning on a distant corral fence.
“I’m not a monster Jarrod.”
Nick’s eyes didn’t seem as certain as his words. His older brother only cocked
an eyebrow and left his thoughts unspoken.
Fred Madden and Doctor Merar
arrived an hour later, both men intent on spending time with Heath. They found
him still by the corral, lost in thought. Putting off the harder of the two
encounters, the pensive cowboy spoke to the Sheriff first.
Heath lied. “It was an accident
Fred. We were setting the last of the rafters and the foot wouldn’t slip in the
sill. Jeremy went to set it with the mallet. When it shifted I lost my footing
and fell. He reached out to grab me and my weight pulled him off balance. I
managed to grab onto the sill, but he had pitched out too far for me grab onto
him as well.”
Fred seemed satisfied with the
explanation. The doc said the body didn’t look as though anything else had
happened, but he needed to ask the hands who’d been nearest what they had
witnessed. Jarrod and Nick joined him when Heath chased everyone but the Doctor
from the room during the examination.
The two brothers made it known
that the men were to speak freely. The tension between the two Barkley’s hadn’t
lessened. Jarrod’s earlier words had been preying on his brother all day. In
the hours since Heath had helped ease the dying man’s passing, the act of
unparalleled compassion had shamed him.
Not surprisingly, none of the
hands had seen the incident. All had been focused on doing their own jobs
safely, working 30 feet in the air. There was some grumbling speculation aimed
at Heath, but nothing concrete. Fred was about to rule it an accident and leave
the bunkhouse when a distraught Will Carter approached the group.
“Sheriff? Nick?”
“Will, I’m sorry for your loss.
I know you and your brother were close.” Nick patted the 20 year old on his
shoulder.”
“Thank ya Nick. I appreciate
it.” He looked as though there was more on his mind.
Softening his voice and
demeanor, Nick probed a little. “Is there something you want to tell us son?
It’s okay.”
Will opened his mouth to speak,
but all that came out was a sob. Suddenly he was being held by the rough and
tumble rancher without any concern for what such an act would do to his image
with the rest of the crew. Duke McCall looked on, shaking his head and caught
Jarrod’s eye. Both men knew this side of Nick Barkley, both had experienced it…
Jarrod innumerable times in their years growing up, Duke in months after his
beloved wife had died. Where was this Nick when it came to the young man
claiming fraternity with the Barkley’s?
Will straightened his
shoulders, embarrassed to find himself in the grip to the gruff, no-nonsense
rancher.
“It wasn’t an accident.”
Jarrod and Fred stood rooted in
place. Nick’s eyes narrowed. “What did you say, boy?”
“It wasn’t an accident. I was
watching them the whole morning, afraid something was gonna happen when you put
them together. Why’d you hafta go do that Nick?”
The blood had drained from
Nick’s face at the plaintive question. “I….”
“Will,” Jarrod interrupted,
“are you saying that Jeremy didn’t fall the way Heath said he did?” This was
Jarrod, the lawyer, wanting to be very clear.
“That’s what I’m saying, Sir.”
Nick exploded with fury. “Why
I’ll kill that sonnofa….Fred, you get up there and arrest him. Will I promise
this family will make sure he gets prosecuted for murdering your brother!”
Nick’s glare at Jarrod said that he’d better damn well agree.
Will’s eyes panicked and he
clutched at Nick’s arm. “No! NO! You gotta listen to me, listen! Nick! Please!
You got it wrong!”
The weight dragging at his arm
got his attention and he focused back on the man. “You just said…”
“Jeremy tried to kill Heath.”
There, I’ve said it! Forgive me
Jer but I hadta make it right! The statement hung in the air. He was ashamed,
knew it would mean his job, but he couldn’t live with the loss of his brother
and the lie too.
The three men stood waiting as
he regained his composure. “Jeremy and Heath needed the mallet to set the
rafter, it wasn’t going in the way it was supposed ta. Heath was steadying the
bottom and Jer had the mallet. He…he…swung and…I saw, I saw him aim it at
Heath’s leg. That’s why he’s limping. Jer hit him good with it, knocked him
offa the sill. The rest of it, well, Heath was only trying to save himself. He
didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Will.” Nick placed a hand on
the young man’s shoulder. “you’re wrong. It must have been an accident. Jer was
a good man, why would he wanna kill Heath?”
“Well, Sir…Nick. Well, it’s
because you gave us a chance when a lotta other folks wouldn’t. He felt kinda
like it was his job ta look out for the ranch.” Will wiped his eyes with his
sleeve until Fred handed him his kerchief. “You was so angry and not wantin’
Heath around cause he was such a stain on the Barkley name, bein’ a bastard and
all and well, he just figured it was somethin’ he could do to pay you back for
all your kindness.”
The other men in the bunkhouse
had been listening to the story and began to shuffle their feet. Many of them
had harbored the same thoughts more than once, how it would be better if they
could just get rid of the blond cowboy once and for all.
Jarrod’s sense of fair play had
deserted him hours ago. “So Nick, how does it feel to know the men would kill
for you?” He and Fred headed towards the house. Nick turned to follow them,
then his stride picked up and he bulled his way between the two men.
“Nick!” Fred shouted to stop
his friend, but it had no effect. “Damn!”
They hurried, catching up with
Nick as he barged into Heath’s room. The cowboy was sprawled on his stomach as
Howard Merar cleaned up a myriad of scrapes and splinters left when the rough
hewn lumber had scraped against him.
“What the he….!” Heath’s face
was instantly panicked and he rolled over to grab for his shirt but the pain
from his bruised and swollen thigh stopped him. Looking at the faces of the
three men, he realized it was too late already. “Damn!” His fist pounded the
bed in frustration.
Howard let out a sigh and
placed a hand on the angry man’s shoulder. “I’m sorry son.”
Nick walked over to stare at
his brother’s back. He reached out and ran his fingers down the criss-cross
pattern of scars, as if to reassure himself of the evidence of his eyes. It was
an act of intimacy that would remain in both men’s memory for years to come.
He’d never seen them before, images of Heath working in the sun, never
bare-chested even on the hottest days, sprang up.
Heath met Nick’s eyes over his
shoulder and for once they weren’t angry or resentful. The question in them was
poised on the tip all four men’s tongues, but no one could bring themselves to
ask. Heath looked from face to face and resolved not to hide any longer. The
whip marks and all they stood for were as much a part of him as his Barkley blood.
“Carterson.” Was all he said then he reached across to the chair and pulled the
discarded shirt back over the evidence. “Now get the Hell out of my room.”
Jarrod looked out the Study
windows and spotted Heath coming out of the new barn. In the week since Jeremy
had died and Nick had ridden out, the men had finished fitting it out. Working
under Heath’s direction, they had done a credible job and much of the stock was
already moved. The ranch had run smoothly, the men finally taking orders from
Heath without any resistance.
He stepped outside and meeting
the cowboy at the coral fence, the two stopped to admire the sunset and share a
little time before retiring.
“When do you suppose Nick will
be back?”
“I don’t know Heath, he said he
needed time to think, could be any day or it could be a couple more weeks.”
Jarrod patted Jingo, who had come over looking for a treat from his master.
Jarrod fished a sugar cube out of his pocket. “Here you go boy.”
“You spoil him Counselor.” His
half grin giving away his own tendency to spoil the family mounts as well.
“You still planning on
leaving?”
Heath looked at the Counselor
in surprise. “Guess I know why you’re such a good lawyer.”
Jarrod would have smiled at the
compliment if it hadn’t been for what was at stake. “I hope you’ll reconsider.
I think Nick will come back a changed man.”
“It was never my intention to
make anyone change.”
Jarrod gave him a skeptical
look. “Come on Heath, you had to know coming here would change a lot of
things.”
The younger man shrugged.
“Guess I didn’t give it much thought. I was just lookin’ for what I wanted,
didn’t care about anyone else.”
“Change isn’t always a bad
thing Heath, and I’m thinking that Nick needed this one. He’s always tended to
idolize our father. But Tom Barkley was an imperfect man, believe me.”
I had enough run-ins with him to prove it.”
Heath raised a skeptical
eyebrow.
“Being a Lawyer was not part of
Tom Barkley’s plan for his oldest son.” The story behind that comment would
have to wait for another day.
“It’s time Nick started seeing
Father for what he was. A great father, a great man, but still flawed. He could
be stubborn, and demanding, he could trample over people without realizing it.
He was a man of great passions. You don’t build a spread like this ranch
without a strong will and a driving vision. No, Father was human like the rest
of us and it’s time Nick accepts it.”
“You reckon that’s what all
this has been about?”
“Pretty much.”
“It’s a hard thing to have your
idol fall.”
“It’s not just losing his idol,
it’s losing himself. Nick has fashioned himself in Father’s image. And there
are far worse role models he could have chosen. But when you forced him to see
Tom Barkley as flawed, you also made him question his own identity.”
“You’re not makin’ much of a
case for Nick wanting me to stick around Jarrod.”
“I suppose it sounds that way.
But hard as it might be for you to believe, I think he will. The Nick you’ve
seen these last two months isn’t the man I’ve grown up with. I’d like you to get
to meet that other Nick. So will you
stay around when Nick gets back?”
“How about we take it a day at
a time?”
Jarrod scrutinized the other
man as he watched the sunset. “That’s good enough for me, Heath, good enough
for me.
Nick rode in just as the sun
was rising on Sunday, a week later. Stabling Coco, he took a few minutes to
walk around the new barn, noting how it had been fitted out with great care.
Amidst the shuffle and sigh of sleeping animals, a noise attracted his
attention. He climbed to the loft, following the faint sounds of distress.
Wandering back into the recesses of stacked bales, the noise gradually became
recognizable as crying.
He knew before he rounded the
last stack who it would be. Stooping down beside the huddled figure he placed a
tentative hand on his shoulder.
Heath startled and then cringed
at the sight of Nick. “Whoa Heath! Take it easy.”
“Leave me be!” He was furiously
scrubbing the tears from his face, hoping to stem flow but not succeeding.
Nick thought a moment, then
slid down to sit beside the other man. He started talking to him about his
trip, the places he’d ridden and what he’d seen. Heath listened, losing himself
in the images, letting them drive the ghosts away. As Nick talked on, Heath’s
mind ranged over the countryside even as his breathing calmed and the defensive
set of is shoulders eased.
Eventually morning sounds
started to filter up from below. “Come on old son, let’s get you back to the
house.”
“Nick, thanks.”
Nick Barkley looked at the man
who sitting next to him. “No, thank you.”
“What for?”
“For what you did for Jer. You
coulda just let him suffer.”
“No, I couldn’t have Nick.” He
shuddered at the idea and Nick realized that getting to know this man was going
to be a long tough road.
“Carterson?” Heath merely
nodded in reply.
“I’m sorry,”
“What for?”
“Stirring it all up again for
you.” He looked at the blond and put a hand behind his neck. “Someday I’d like
to hear about it.”
“No, trust me, you wouldn’t.”
He shook his head, “Bad choice
of words. I’ll listen if you ever feel the need.” The hand that moved to
Heath’s shoulder was there to offer support.
“Maybe…someday….not now.” He
shook his head and shrugged his shoulders apologetically.
Nick saw the flicker of hope
amid the overtones of mistrust in Heath’s eyes. Well, you can’t expect things
to change over night. Just give it time.
“We’d best get to breakfast
before Mother skins us alive.” He draped an arm over Heath’s shoulder and
steered him toward the ladder and out into the brightness of the new day.