Aftermath

“Ma, the man’s got blood all over…”

“Jake, go find your father…”

“Easy, now, we’ll get you inside…”

“Hold on, this is going to hurt…”

“Drink a little of this…”

“Try to lie still…”

“It’s going to be okay…”

He heard snatches of conversation. He felt his cheek pillowed on something soft and cried out when the fire in his back suddenly intensified. He tried to get away as firm hands held him down, choked when a bitter taste was trickled between his lips and sagged in relief as his head and neck were bathed with coolness. He floated in limbo for how long he couldn’t be sure and finally came back to himself with a soft breeze kissing his forehead and the chirping of a songbird from somewhere not far away.

Jarrod groaned as his back protested strongly when he tried to move. He hurt; oh, god, how he hurt, but it wasn’t nearly the searing agony of before. He opened his eyes to see a white curtain floating lazily over an open window and wondered where he was. Rolling over, he levered himself to a sitting position and grimaced at the pain the movement caused. Glancing down, he saw his torso was swathed in bandages, another dressing covered his wrist and hand and he lifted the other hand to his head to find that bandaged as well.

The door creaked open. Jarrod’s heart raced in fear as he automatically shrank back against the bedframe and wondered if he’d be able to make it out the window.

“I’m glad to see you’re awake.”

Jarrod took a deep breath to steady himself at the soft voice. There was no need to panic, he was in a bright and cozy room, not back in that dark, dusty barn.

The dark-haired woman placed the tray she was carrying on the table at the side of the bed. Jarrod flinched and then steadied himself as she placed a gentle hand on his forehead.

“Your fever’s come down,” she said with a smile. “Do you feel you can eat something? I brought some broth in case you were up and feeling hungry.”

Jarrod forced a smile as she placed a pillow behind him and chastised himself for the panic he was feeling. He was obviously in this woman’s home and was just as obviously not being threatened.

“How long have I been here?” he asked slowly.

“Five days.” She moved moving the tray to balance on his lap. “You were in pretty bad shape. The doctor wasn’t sure you were going to make it.”

The savoury aroma of the broth made Jarrod’s stomach rumble. He reached for the spoon, but couldn’t make his hand co-operate to hold it properly. The woman took it from him and scooped up a spoonful.

“The doctor said it might take a while for you to get full use of your hand back,” she told him with a kind smile, noting the uncomfortable expression on Jarrod’s face. “Considering what it must have taken for you to get yourself to our doorstep, I don’t think you have any reason to be embarrassed at accepting a little bit of help.”

Jarrod smiled ruefully. “I suppose not,” he admitted. “And I’m extremely grateful for everything you’ve done, Mrs…” He trailed off, waiting for her to supply her name.

“Morgan. Elizabeth Morgan.” She spooned some broth into his mouth. “And your name is…?

“Jarrod. Jarrod Barkley.”

Mrs. Morgan paused in surprise. “Barkley? Of Stockton?”

Jarrod nodded and accepted another spoonful. “Yes. I take it you’ve heard of my family.”

“I think everyone in Knight’s Ferry has heard of your family, Mr. Barkley,” she told him.

Jarrod’s stomach started to feel queasy after another spoonful and he declined more broth with a shake of his head. “I don’t think I can eat any more. And, please, it’s Jarrod.”

“And you can call me Liz.” She looked as if she was going to argue his refusal, but didn’t say anything and just returned the tray to the bedside table. Hearing hoofbeats in the yard, she turned to the door. “That’s probably the doctor. He’d said he’d be by to see how you were doing. I’m sure he’d be happy to send a message to your family and tell them where you are.” Liz took the tray with her as she left the room and Jarrod sagged against the pillow in relief. He didn’t know why he felt so uneasy with her in the room, but for some reason he did.

The door opened again to admit Liz and a genial looking man who Jarrod assumed to be the doctor and again Jarrod had to fight down a surge of fear.

“Well, Mr. Barkley,” the man said as he set his bag down and pulled out his watch, grabbing Jarrod’s good hand to take his pulse, “it’s mighty good to see you among the living.”

Jarrod managed a tight smile and took a deep breath as the doctor continued speaking.

“When I first saw you after Liz’s husband told me there was an injured man at his place, I have to admit I didn’t think much of your chances. You were running a high fever and I think there were more wounds on your back than intact skin.”

Jarrod started sweating at the remembered pain of those wounds being caused. He tensed as the doctor placed hands on his shoulders to turn him and have a look at his back.

“I don’t see anything staining the bandages, so I’m going to leave them alone right now,” he pronounced. “How does your head feel?”

“A little sore,” Jarrod admitted quietly.

“How about your vision? Any blurring or spots?”

Jarrod shook his head. “No. That seems fine.”

The doctor picked up Jarrod’s right arm. “Can you make a fist?”

Jarrod tried and hissed in pain as he managed to curl his thumb and first three fingers. The last finger moved only slightly.

“Some of the tendons in your wrist were damaged,” the doctor informed him, “and the one for your little finger was completely severed. I repaired it as best I could, but I can’t give you any guarantees of how much function will come back. I take it you’re right handed?”

Jarrod nodded and the doctor shook his head. “Well, try to use it as little as possible for the next couple weeks. You don’t want any of the other tendons to rupture. Then start slowly, moving it as much as possible without straining it. It will improve, I just can’t say how much.”

Jarrod closed his eyes as he absorbed the information. “I’m sure you did what you could.”

The doctor patted him on the shoulder and Jarrod flinched. “Sorry, I should’ve remembered how sore you still must be.” Jarrod didn’t bother to correct him, for some reason it was the contact itself that made him tense, not so much the pain. “There was a fairly deep burn on your left shoulder,” the doctor added, “it went into the muscle a ways. Try to move it as much as you can so the scar tissue doesn’t tighten up too much.”

As he gathered his things, the doctor said, “I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow. Liz said you might want me to send a message to your family?”

“I’d just like to let them know I’m all right and that I’ll be home as soon as I can,” Jarrod told him. “I don’t have any money on me, but I can pay you for the wire and your services as soon as I can get to a bank.”

The doctor chuckled as he made his way to the door. “Don’t worry, Mr. Barkley. Your family’s well known enough around here that your credit is good. And I think the sheriff will be relieved to find out your identity.”

“The sheriff?” Jarrod asked cautiously as his mind brought back the bulging eyes of the man he’d killed.

“Seems a body was found in an abandoned barn ten miles or so from here.” The doctor’s words confirmed Jarrod’s uneasy suspicion. “And you, showing up in the condition you were in… well, I’ll let Matt know who you are and that you’re able to talk. I’m sure he’ll be out later and I’ll be back tomorrow, like I said. Liz,” he acknowledged as he left the room.

Liz turned back to Jarrod. “Is there anything you need?” she asked.

“No. Just… a little peace and quiet, maybe.” His stomach was starting to hurt from the tension.

“All right. But I won’t be far. Just call if you need something.”

Jarrod nodded. “I don’t think I’ve said it yet,” he added before she left the room, “but I’m much obliged for the hospitality and care you’ve shown me.”

Liz smiled at him and shut the door behind her. Jarrod closed his eyes and tried to slow the racing of his heart. He needed to get out of there, but right now, with his weakened state, that just wasn’t possible. He dreaded the upcoming visit from the sheriff, but couldn’t see any way to avoid it.

It was just the pain that was making him jumpy, Jarrod told himself, that and the knowledge that Ben Coulter was still out there to pose a threat to himself and his family. He didn’t doubt that the unscrupulous man would stop at nothing to exact his revenge and, retribution for what had been done to him aside, Jarrod couldn’t leave him free to harm anyone else.

As soon as he was able, he’d track the man down, Jarrod vowed, and stop him. By any means necessary.

*

Matt Warren, the sheriff of Knight’s Ferry, made his promised visit later that afternoon. The middle-aged lawman shook Jarrod’s hand enthusiastically when they were introduced and didn’t notice the other man’s discomfort.

“I have to say, it’s pleasure to meet you, Mr. Barkley, especially under the circumstances.” At Jarrod’s puzzled expression, he took off his hat and sat on the chair beside the bed. “It seems a man was found dead, strangled by the looks of things.”

Jarrod nodded warily, unsure of where the sheriff was going.

“His name was Jed Parker. He was kind of…” The sheriff’s expression turned uncomfortable. “Well, kind of a sadistic bastard, I guess you could say. People around here were mighty scared of him and there were rumours… Never could make any charges stick against him, no one was brave enough to come forward.” He shook his head slightly. “Seeing the shape you turned up here in, and finding him dead like he was…” Sheriff Warren looked over at Jarrod. “I reckon you had something to do with it, like killing him in self-defence. The town’ll sleep easier at night, Mr. Barkley, thanks to you.”

“I don’t need anyone’s thanks, Sheriff,” Jarrod said quietly. He wondered uneasily if the sheriff had any idea what Parker actually did to him and was still troubled by the knowledge he’d killed a man with his bare hands.

The sheriff nodded and replaced his hat on his head. “The way I see it, it was kinda like putting down a rabid dog. If you need anything while you’re here, Mr. Barkley, just let me know.” He moved towards the door and then turned as he pulled a paper from his pocket. “Almost forgot.” He handed the paper to Jarrod. “Doc sent a wire to Stockton and this came back just as I left. It’s good to have people who care.”

Jarrod unfolded the message as the sheriff left.

October 8, 1873

To Jarrod Barkley, Knight’s Ferry, CA

From Nick Barkley, Stockton, CA

Jarrod -stop- Riding out first thing in the morning -stop- Glad you’re ok -stop- Nick -end message.

Jarrod started trembling. Nick would want details, would expect Jarrod to tell him what happened and Jarrod wasn’t sure he could do that. He also knew Nick would either try to talk him out of going after Coulter or insist on coming with him. Crumpling the message in his left hand, Jarrod tried to think of what he should do. He wasn’t ready to ride out yet but he wasn’t ready to face anyone he knew. Taking a breath to steady his nerves, he told himself to wait, to take some time to think. Nick wouldn’t be here until late tomorrow at the earliest, which left some time for him to come up with what to do.

Jarrod grabbed the pillow, carefully lay down on his side and closed his eyes. Right now what he needed most was rest. He’d decide what to do later.