Aftermath

"The Big Valley" is a western from 1965-69 and takes place in California in the 1870s.

This story is set about a year after the first season episode “Hazard".


“Good. You got him.”

The smooth deep voice made it through the haze that obscured the recently unconscious man’s mind. He tried to open his eyes, but the shaft of sunlight that hit his face seared through his head like fire.

“What do you want me to do with him?”

He heard the clink of coins and then the voice again. “I don’t rightly care.” It sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place it, not and try to breathe through the stabbing pain in his chest at the same time. “My nephew’s dead because of him,” the voice continued. “He ruined me and now I want you to ruin him.”

“You want him dead?”

There was a long pause. “Eventually. But I want him to suffer. Something I hear you’re good at. The longer, the better.”

“You got it, Mr. Coulter.”

“Judge Coulter,” the voice snapped and a shiver of terror crept up Jarrod’s spine. The events in Coryville that resulted in Ben Coulter losing his position as virtual dictator of the town happened over a year ago and Jarrod could still remember the cold fury in the man’s eyes before he and his brothers rode out of town. “Just because Jarrod Barkley stripped everything away from me, doesn’t mean I’m not still entitled to that respect!”

“Whatever you say, Judge. You’re the one paying the bills.”

Jarrod felt a sharp pain in his side as the toe of a boot struck his injured ribs. Thinking it might be better if they didn’t realize he was conscious, he used all his willpower to remain still.

“Not even a Barkley crosses Ben Coulter,” the former judge snarled. “But I don’t think you’re going to have a chance to forget that.”

Jarrod heard the heavy tread fade away and then sputtered and coughed as cold water was dashed onto his face. A hand grabbed his chin roughly and he gasped in pain when his head was wrenched to the side. He cracked open the eyelid again and looked into the dark eyes of a thin, saturnine face.

“Not so pretty now, are you?” There was malevolence in those eyes that struck a spark of terror in the pit of Jarrod’s stomach. The hand released his chin and travelled down his chest to touch the exposed skin where the buttons had been torn off Jarrod’s shirt. “But you’re still pretty enough where it counts, even though I doubt that will be for long, either.”

Jarrod struggled to get free as the hand roamed across his belly, but was unable to stop it from moving below his belt and squeezing his groin painfully. Jarrod’s teeth clenched as he tried not to think of what that action might mean.

He concentrated on his surroundings instead. He could feel rough wood against his cheek and his arms were drawn forward, tied together tightly around the post his head and chest rested on.

“A little anticipation will only heighten the experience.” The man’s breath felt hot in Jarrod’s ear. “So I’ll just leave you for now. I’m in no hurry.”

Jarrod forced his eye open again and winced at the light that came through as a door opened and shut. He could make out the shapes of stalls and farm implements through his hazy vision and dust motes floated through the sunbeam that forced its way through an upper window. A barn, most likely, and he was tied to a large support post in the center.

Jarrod pulled on the thick leather thong binding his hands, but they were tied much too tightly to give him any hope of working his way free. Trying to shift and ease the strain on his shoulders only sent pain lancing through what must be broken ribs and Jarrod soon gave up. He rested on his haunches and leaned his forehead against the post as he contemplated his situation.

How the devil had he ended up in this position anyway? Coulter was obviously holding more than a simple grudge for the events that ruined the judge’s career. The insinuations that he was involved with the murder and cover up surrounding the death of the schoolteacher in Coryville had ended with Jarrod and his brothers shooting Coulter’s nephew Matt and the judge had been quickly stripped of his title and the almost absolute power was lost with it.

Jarrod fought to clear his mind. He knew from his swollen eye and throbbing head that he likely had a concussion and was fairly certain that several ribs were cracked, if not broken. What he couldn’t tell was how much time he’d lost. Surely he’d be missed and hopefully there’d be some trace to lead his brothers to his aid.

Suddenly, his thoughts cleared and Jarrod’s hopes fell.

The sun was shining and a cool breeze whispered through the leaves as Jingo cantered along. Jarrod enjoyed the crisp scents of fall, glad he’d been able to rearrange his schedule so he could join his brothers on fall roundup. Nick might tease him about his lily white hands and Heath would just smile that lopsided grin of his and tell him he did enough work for the family at his office, but Jarrod knew his brothers appreciated the fact he still liked to get involved with the working side of the ranch. He didn’t do it often, but rounding up the herd that was soon to be driven to market, eating out of the chuckwagon and just sitting around the fire after a hard day’s work, sharing a bottle of whiskey and enjoying each other’s company was exactly the kind of break he was craving.

The lawyer was looking forward to the next several days when he heard the load crack of a gunshot, followed by a searing pain in his temple. He fell out of the saddle and the last thing he remembered was more pain as a heavy booted foot connected with his ribs before smashing into his face.

With a sinking feeling, Jarrod knew no one was going to realize he was missing for at least a week. His mother and Audra thought he was out with his brothers and Nick and Heath probably figured he wasn’t able to shuffle his court dates for an upcoming trial and was stuck in town.

No, there was no rescue from outside coming soon and as he pulled again on the strap binding him, Jarrod knew he only had himself to rely on and wondered if that would be enough.