Chapter 6

 

     Victoria Barkley woke at dawn.  She'd dozed on and off since she'd gone to bed at two-thirty.  Sometime around three-thirty she heard Jarrod pass her room on the way to his own.  She took that to mean Heath was sleeping and found it a little easier to do the same.

 

     At quarter to six the woman exited her room, dressed for the day in pair of goucho pants and a plaid blouse.   Rays of sunshine softly crept through the curtains hanging on the windows in Heath's bedroom.  The lamp had been blown out, Victoria assumed Nick extinguished its light when the sky began to brighten. 

 

     Heath appeared to be in a deep sleep.  He didn't look as feverish as he had the last time Victoria had seen him, but she could hear the heavy congestion rattle in his chest each time he drew in a breath.  Nick sat in the chair sleeping as well.  His head was tilted forward causing his dark hair to tumble over his eyes. 

 

     The woman moved to the window farthest from the bed.  The room was warm and stuffy.  She opened the window just enough to allow a gentle breeze to circulate.  With it came

the smell of lilacs and pine trees and livestock. 

 

     Victoria kept her footsteps light as she walked to Nick's side.  She smiled at the sight he presented.  When he was a little boy his bangs were constantly in his eyes.  That problem had been cured when he'd reached adulthood and started using pomade.  Sometime during the trying night the gel must have reached the end of its staying power.

 

     Victoria ran a hand over her son's bangs, pushing them back from his eyes.  She placed a kiss on the top of his head just as he woke.

 

     "Huh...what?"

 

     "Shhh," the woman cautioned in a hushed tone.  "Heath's sleeping."

 

     The man looked at his brother then stood.  He placed a hand at the small of his back and stretched.

 

     "What time did you and Jarrod finally get him calmed down?"

 

     "Around three or so.  I think we got his temperature low enough that he could sleep.  I sent Jarrod to bed shortly after that."

     "I heard him pass by my room.  I assumed things were going okay in here when he didn't stop to rouse me."

 

     "Things have been all right.  Heath's been sleeping ever since Jarrod left."

 

     "And that's just what I want you to do.  I heard Silas moving around the kitchen.  Why don't you get some breakfast then go to bed." 

 

     Nick's eyes traveled to his brother again.  "I can hold off a few more hours.  I'd like to sit here with him a little longer."

     "Honey, he's sleeping, and that's what you should be doing, too.  If his fever goes up again and he grows delirious I'm going to need your help with him.  You've been up all night, Nick.  You need to eat and get some rest.  I'll stay with him now."

 

     Nick was reluctant to leave, but had to admit food and a few hours of sleep sounded appealing.  And his mother was correct. She would need him more when and if Heath's condition worsened.  Like Jarrod, Nick needed to take advantage of this calm before the potential storm.

 

     "Okay, I'll have some breakfast then go to bed.  But if you need me, if he...if he gets worse, you wake me up immediately."

 

     "I will."

     Nick's hands came to rest on his mother's shoulders.  He placed a kiss in her hair, then headed for the door.  He squeezed Heath's blanket covered right foot as he passed.  

 

     Victoria crossed to the door and shut it three quarters of the way.  She didn't want Heath's sleep disturbed by those who would be moving about the house over the next few hours. 

 

     The woman turned for the bed.  She refilled the basin on the nightstand with cold water and picked up the towels the boys had used.  She made a neat stack out of the dirty linens and placed them outside the door.  She knew Jessybell would be up shortly to empty the laundry hamper in the bathroom.  The black woman could gather the towels as she passed if Victoria didn't get them to the hamper first.

 

     The white-headed lady went back to her son's side.  She straightened the blankets on the bed and pulled them up to Heath's shoulders.  She laid a light hand on the side of his face.  Though he was still running a temperature he was nowhere near as hot as he had been just a few hours earlier.

 

     Victoria claimed the chair Nick had been sitting in.  As the sun rose Heath's cough increased in its intensity, though for the time being he went on sleeping.  She heard Nick come up the back stairs and enter his room.  Fifteen minutes after that Audra appeared.  She walked over and stood at the end of Heath's bed.

 

     "How is he?"

 

     "According to Nick things were pretty rough until about three this morning when his temperature finally dropped somewhat.  He's been sleeping ever since that time."

 

     "Do you think the worst has passed?"

 

     "I wish I could say yes, Audra...but no.  No, the worst hasn’t passed.  As Doctor Sheridan said, Heath's condition will peak in three to four days."

 

     "Would you like me to relieve you?"

     "Not right now.  You go down and eat breakfast, then check on the mares.  If Heath stays stable like this you can sit with him after lunch."

     "Where's Nick?"

     "I told him to eat something and go to bed."

 

     "He's very upset."

 

     "Nick?"

 

     "Yes."

     "He's worried about Heath if that's what you mean.  And you know Nick, it's hard for him to show that, let alone cope with it."

 

     "He's grown very close to Heath.  Closer than I think he realized until last night."

     "You're quite a perceptive young lady."  Victoria ran her fingers through Heath's hair.  "We've all grown close to Heath.  And I agree with you.  I think Nick was caught off guard by how deep their bond runs.   Three years ago none of us could have imagined the two of them would become such good friends."

     "That's for certain," Audra smiled.  "On some days I thought they were going to kill each other."

     "So did I, dear.  So did I."  The woman looked up.  "Now you go ahead and eat.  I'll call you if I need you."

 

     Audra had no more than left the room when Jarrod appeared.  Once the lawyer was assured Heath was in the same condition he had been at three-thirty that morning, he agreed to join his sister at the breakfast table. 

 

     He kissed his mother on the top of the head.  "After I eat I'll be in the study doing paper work.  If you need my help you come get me."

 

     "I will."

 

     "When Nick wakes up we'll talk to the men."

 

     Victoria gazed at the ill man propped against the pillows, still deep in an exhausted slumber.   Regardless, she stood and walked with Jarrod to a far corner of the room.  She spoke as softly as possible, not wanting to risk Heath overhearing a single word.

 

     "I suppose it has to be done."

     "Mother, you know we have no choice." Jarrod's hands came to rest on the woman's shoulders as he, too, kept his voice barely above a whisper.  "They have to know what everyone on this entire ranch is facing.  Those who don't get sick are going to have to help those who do.  Nick and I talked it over last night.  We'll move everyone out of the bunkhouse closest to the well and transform it into an infirmary.  If we're lucky only a very few will fall ill.  The odds should be with us that most of the men had diphtheria as children."

     "The odds weren't with Heath."

 

     "No...no they weren't.  But hopefully that won't hold true for the majority of the men."

 

     "I just don't want them blaming him."  Victoria tossed a worried glance at the man in the bed before returning her attention to her oldest.  "You know how nasty some of them were to Heath when he first came here."

 

     "Yes, I'm aware of that.  But if you remember correctly those who couldn’t adjust to Heath’s presence were sent packing by Nick."

 

     "That's true.  However, I'm well aware of the mindless panic an epidemic like this can cause to set in.  The type of hysteria it creates can make even good people turn bad."

 

     "I realize that.  But don't you worry.  Nick and I will handle it as diplomatically as possible."

 

     "Nick?"  Victoria raised an eyebrow.  "Diplomatic?"

 

     Jarrod chuckled.  "Okay, I'll handle it as diplomatically as possible.  Obviously the men will have to know Heath's sick.  There's no point in attempting to keep it from them.  Since we sent Phillip for the doctor there's no doubt most of them know by now that something's wrong.  But they certainly don't have to know Heath is the first one in the area who's been diagnosed with the disease.  It's to our benefit that we're under quarantine.  They won't be able to leave the ranch for several weeks, which decreases their likelihood of ever discovering differently."

 

     "And if one of them does?"

     "If one of them does then we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."  Jarrod gave his mother's shoulders a squeeze.  "Mother, most of those men out there have just as much loyalty to Heath as they do to the rest of us.  He proved himself to them long ago.  I don't think any of them will deliberately say something to hurt him."

     "I hope you're right, Jarrod."  Victoria patted her son's left hand before returning to Heath’s bedside.  "I hope you're right."

 

 

 

 

Chapter 7

    

     It was a few minutes before noon when Jarrod and Nick entered the chow hall.  The big building made of logs held enough tables and chairs to seat one hundred men.  The kitchen was at the far end and held three huge cast iron stoves. 

 

     The Barkleys currently had fifty-five men on their payroll.  Some were already seated and eating the meal prepared by the two cooks Nick employed year round.  The others were still moving through the line at the long counter that separated the dining hall from the kitchen.

 

     It wasn’t unusual for Nick or Heath to join the men for lunch, but Jarrod’s presence was almost unheard of.  The chatter that had filled the building only seconds before began to slowly give way to silence.  The men glanced at one another with raised eyebrows as the two Barkley brothers remained standing at the head of the room.

 

     Nick motioned for the men in line to continue filling their plates.  When the last man had taken his chair Nick stepped forward and rested a foot on the seat of a vacant chair. 

 

     “Men, I’m sorry to interrupt your lunch. As most of you probably know by now, we had to send Phillip for Doctor Sheridan during the early hours of the morning.”

 

     Several of the hands nodded, but no one said anything.

 

     “Heath...Heath is very sick.”

     From the back of the room a man called, “What’s wrong with him, Nick?”

 

     Nick looked to Jarrod.  The lawyer got the impression his younger brother thought it would be best if he took over the conversation at this point.  Knowing there was no point to stall or to lie, Jarrod got right to the heart of the matter.

 

     “Heath has diphtheria.”

 

     “Diphtheria!”

 

     The word was exclaimed with varying degrees of shock from several parts of the vast building.

 

     Questions flew fast and furious at the Barkley brothers.  How sick was Heath?  What did the doctor say his chances were of pulling through?  Where did he come in contact with the dreaded disease?  What did this mean for the ranch?

 

     Nick held up a hand.  It took a few moments, but finally everyone quieted.

 

     “As I already said, Heath is very sick.  His chances...well, as Doc Sheridan said, he’s young and he’s strong so he’s got that on his side.  As far as where he came in contact with the disease, we don’t know.  Unfortunately, other people in Stockton are sick as well.”  Nick made sure to remain vague on this last issue so the men wouldn’t realize Heath was the one who brought the disease to the area.  “Everyone on the ranch is under quarantine until Doctor Sheridan says otherwise.”

 

     One man stood.

 

     “Yeah, Chuck?”

     “What about those of us who haven’t had diphtheria?”

     “I was just getting to that.  After lunch I want everyone who’s been assigned to bunkhouse eight to clear their stuff out.  You can move to number five, it’s empty right now.  We’re going to turn eight into a makeshift infirmary.  It’s nearest to the well so that means easy access to water.  Strip the beds down, too.  Jessybell will bring clean sheets and pillowcases.  I want you to remake the beds with the linens she gives you so they’ll be ready if we need them.  Those of us who don’t get sick will be pressed into service to help those who do.  If you’ve already had diphtheria you can’t get it again.  How many of you know for certain you’ve been sick with it at some point?”

     Nick counted the hands that went up. Almost three quarters of the men present knew they’d contracted the disease in childhood.  Nick figured a few more who didn’t raise their hands may have had it, but were too young at the time to now recall being ill.  Nonetheless, that still left a dozen or so men who were wide-open targets for the deadly disease just as Heath had been.

 

     “What about medicine?”  Came the panicked question from a young man who had been among those who didn’t raise his hand.  “Can’t the doc give us something ‘fore we get sick?”

 

     Jarrod shook his head.

 

“I’m sorry, but no.  There’s no medicine available that cures diphtheria.  However, quinine does reduce the high fever brought on by the disease which in turn allows the body a better chance at fighting it off.  Doctor Sheridan has no quinine in his office at this time, but he was going to wire the state medical office in San Francisco in an effort to get some sent here on the next train.  I assure you that just as soon as it’s available to him it will be available to us.  We’ll buy whatever is needed for those of you who get sick.  As well, we’ll pay the doctor to come out here and tend to those of you who fall ill.  But as you know, with any epidemic a doctor’s resources quickly become strained.  That’s why, as Nick already stated, we’re going to have to help each other through this.”

 

     Jarrod went on to explain that the first signs of the disease would be symptoms similar to a cold.  He told the men that anyone who was already feeling ill should report to the infirmary just as soon as it was ready.

 

     “Doctor Sheridan will be back out to see Heath later tonight or tomorrow morning.  At that time we’ll have him examine any of you who aren’t feeling well.”

     Nick and Jarrod waited to see if there were further questions or comments.  When none were forthcoming they nodded their thanks to the men and left the building.

 

     As soon as the brothers were out of earshot conversation buzzed.  The men who’d been ill with diphtheria in the past had little to worry about and worked hard at assuring the others they’d help them in whatever way they could.

 

     “There’s no use in gettin’ all riled up like a pack a’ coonhounds on a hunt,” a grizzled old hand assured.  “If you’re bound to git sick then you’re bound to git sick.  That’s in the hands of the good Lord.  Ain’t nothin’ a one of youz can do about it so there’s no point in whinin’ like a dang blamed bunch a’ females.”

 

     “That’s easy for you to say, Hank,” Chuck scowled.  “Your hand went up when Nick asked who’s had diphtheria.  Stop and think for a minute about those of us who couldn’t raise our hands.  If Heath’s as sick as...”

 

     Hank dismissed that thought with a wave of his hand.  “Heath’s a tough young feller.  He’ll be fine.”

 

     The man to Chuck’s right shook his head.  “I don’t know.  Did you see the look on Nick’s face when he talked about Heath bein’ sick?  I think Heath’s pretty bad off, as a matter of fact I think he’s real bad off, only Nick can’t bring himself to tell us that.”

 

     “You young whippersnappers don’t know nuthin’,” Hank scoffed.  “Okay, so Heath is sick.  I mean that’s what diphtheria does. It makes a body sick.  But grown men the age of Heath and the ages of most of you just don’t die from it.  Such a thing is near unheard of.”

 

     Phillip Mattson, the ranch foreman, stood and put an end to the talk before panic could set in.

 

     “Listen, men, there’s no use debating who’s going to get sick or how sick they’re going to get.  None of us really knows the answer to those questions, now do we?   Therefore; it would be in everyone’s best interest if we finish our meal, then do like Nick asked and get number eight turned into an infirmary.  If we’re lucky we won’t need it.  But if we do...well, I’ve worked for the Barkleys for a lotta years now.  Longer than some of you have been on this earth.  More fair, good-hearted employers you’ll never find.  Like Jarrod said, they’ll get each one of you whatever you need in the way of doctorin’ or medicine.  So let’s do our part by sticking together and helping one another out.  With Heath being sick the Barkleys don’t need to be fretting about us.”

 

     A red headed man behind Phillip turned his head away and mumbled to those seated around him.  Phillip pinned him with a steely gaze.

 

     “What was that, Carney?”

     The ranch hand didn’t hesitate to offer his thoughts.  “I said I bet old Heath won’t be joinin’ the sick ones in number eight even though that’s his rightful place.  No, siree.  I bet he gets tended to in style up there in the big house by that pretty half sister of his.”

 

     “You might as well put an end to that kind of talk right now, mister, ‘cause I guarantee you if Nick gets wind of it you’ll be lookin’ for a new job just as soon as the quarantine is lifted.”  Phillip looked out over the remainder of the group.  “That goes for the rest of you, too.”

 

     No one said anything further on the subject as those men who still had an appetite returned to their attention to their lunch.   Some were in strong agreement with Phillip, some felt like Darrel Carney but were wise enough to keep their mouths shut, while others were too new to the ranch to understand what the man meant about Heath and therefore held no opinion one way or the other.

 

     As Phillip set his dishes on the counter and exited the hall a young man pushed his full plate aside.  His older brothers sat on either side of him and exchanged concerned looks.  The boy had just turned eighteen three weeks before and had only worked on the ranch for six months.  He licked his dry lips while glancing from one brother to the next.

 

     “I don’t remember having diphtheria when I was a kid.”

     Jim Garver smiled and elbowed his kid brother.  “You still are a kid.”

     “Yeah, shrimp,” Pete Garver smirked,  “just ‘cause you turned eighteen a few weeks back doesn’t mean you’re a man.”

     Today was one day Bill Garver didn’t feel like arguing that point with his older brothers.  Jim and Pete had been employed by the Barkleys for five years. It was through them that Bill had been hired on.

 

     “I’ve been workin’ a lot with Heath lately,” Bill said.  “And...and a couple nights ago I started gettin’ a sore throat.  This morning...well this morning I was sneezing a lot and didn’t feel much like eating any breakfast.  Can’t say I’m hungry for lunch, either.”

     Jim put his hand on his baby brother’s shoulder. “Billy, don’t worry.  It’s probably just a cold.”

 

     “But Nick said--”

 

     “I know what Nick said.  Still, I think you’re just borrowin’ trouble.  But to be on the safe side I want you to check yourself into that infirmary just as soon as we get it ready.  That way when Doc Sheridan comes out he can have a look at you.”

 

     The boy gave a reluctant nod of his head.  Pete pushed Billy’s plate back in front of him and ordered him to eat. Though food was the last thing the young man wanted at the moment, his brothers were watching him like mother hens with one chick.

 

     Across the room another young man was having difficulty eating.  Like Billy, Jeb Galloway hadn’t been feeling well for a several days now.  After getting off to a rocky start three years before, Jeb and Heath had grown to be good friends.  If Jeb wasn’t working along side Heath then the two of them were generally part of the group who went into Stockton together on Saturday nights, or who sat around the table in a bunkhouse playing poker.  Jeb had learned a lot about ranching from Heath over the years and had come to admire him as a boss and as a friend.  Jeb would readily acknowledge he even looked upon Heath as the big brother he’d never had.

 

     The young cowboy touched a hand to his flaming throat before rubbing it over the aching muscles in his right arm.  Jeb was worried about Heath, but then he was worried about himself as well.   

 

_________________________________________

    

 

     At the same time Jarrod and Nick were talking to the ranch hands, Heath coughed himself awake.  For a few moments all he could register was the heat that made him feel like he was on fire from the inside, and the thick wall of mucus in his throat that caused him to wonder if each gasping breath would be his last.  He was dimly aware of a towel being held to his mouth and small hands trying to urge him to his side.  He did what the hands wanted, even allowing them to push his head toward the floor.  The towel followed the hands and a voice that was both gentle and firm urged him to spit the phlegm into the white cotton cloth.

 

     Heath continued to do as the woman ordered until he had nothing left to bring up.  Or at least nothing that would come up since it still felt like a rope three inches wide had taken up residence in his throat.   

 

     It wasn’t until Heath was helped back to a sitting position that his eyes focused on his nurse.  Victoria gave him a gentle smile while running a cold cloth over his face.  He moved his face into cloth, welcoming the few seconds of relief it brought.

 

     Victoria held a glass of water to his lips next.  Heath didn’t even try to hold it, he simply leaned forward and took three healthy swallows before falling back against his pillows.

 

     “Do you want more, Heath?”

 

     The blond shook his head while giving a mumbled,  “No.  Not right now.”

 

     “How about something to eat?  Silas has some chicken noodle soup warming on the stove for you.  And Jake said you should try to eat some bread, too.”

     “Jake?”  Heath’s voice came out in a rough croak two octaves deeper than was normal for him.

 

     “Doctor Sheridan.”

     “When was he here?”

     Victoria sat back down in her chair.  She dipped the cloth in the basin of water again, then returned to sponging Heath’s face and neck.  “Early this morning.  Don’t you remember?”

 

     Heath looked around his room in confusion.  By glancing out the window he could tell it was noon.  What in the world was he still doing in bed at this time of the day?  And more importantly, why had Nick allowed such a thing?

 

     “Sweetheart?”

 

     Victoria’s voice caused Heath to refocus on her.

 

     “Do you remember Jake being here?”

     “No.  The last thing I remember...”  Heath turned away.  He clutched his chest and coughed until he the spasm passed.  He was surprised to discover that, just like earlier, it left him weak and barely able to lift his head from the pillows.   For the first time he took notice of how funny his voice sounded.  Hoarse and harsh like anyone’s voice sounds when they have a head cold, but also like his throat had been coated with milk.   “The last thing I remember is comin’ in from the barn after me and Nick got home.”

 

     “That would have been late last night.  Around eleven o’clock Nick said.”

     “What happened then?”

     “As near as we can guess your temperature shot way up and you became delirious.  You woke the entire house when you tumbled down the stairs.  Your brothers ran out of their rooms with guns drawn expecting to surprise an intruder trying to break into the safe, only to find you unconscious in the foyer.”

 

     Heath was amazed he didn’t recall any of those events, nor what had occurred between that time and now, twelve full hours later.

     “What’d Jake say?”

     “Just that you need to rest for a few days.  You shouldn’t have been working so hard, Heath.  You should have told Nick how sick you really were.”

     “But it’s just a cold.”

 

     Victoria started to dispute that, then with a quick change of heart decided not to.

 

     Maybe his chances of pulling through this will be better if he doesn’t realize what’s wrong.

 

     “You’re right,” Victoria acknowledged as she fiddled with the edge of the blanket that covered her son.  “It’s just a cold.  Well, a cold and a bad case of the flu, but Jake says plenty of rest and good food will have you back on your feet in no time.”

     “Never been in bed with a cold before.”

 

     “Then you’ve missed out on the opportunity to be thoroughly pampered by me and your sister.”

 

     Heath smiled at the teasing.  “I seem to recall gettin’ that opportunity on a couple other occasions, but usually I had a bullet in me or had been kicked in the head by an ornery bronc.”

 

     “All the more reason why this time we’re thankful it’s just a cold,” Victoria lied without so much as a blink.  “Nonetheless, you’re run down and need to stay right in this bed until Jake says otherwise.  Don’t you even think of sneaking outside the first time my back is turned.”

 

     Heath coughed again, then allowed his eyes to fall shut.  He felt like he had an elephant sitting on his chest.

 

     “No, ma’am.  I won’t be sneakin’ off on you.”

 

     Victoria was glad her son’s eyes were closed.  If he’d seen her face he would have immediately guessed he had more than ‘just a cold.’  His comment about not sneaking outside on her was enough to indicate to Victoria how sick he really was.  It had gotten to be a family joke that at some point during Heath’s recuperation from an injury he’d invariably be found in the barn before the doctor had given his okay.  Victoria had come to expect such an occurrence, and Heath had made a game out of getting her goat over it.  No matter how many times she caught him treading down the back stairs and marched him back to bed, he’d eventually foil her. He’d only laugh like a chastised schoolboy when she finally found him and threatened to tan his hide with her wooden spoon.

 

     Heath must have known what she was thinking.  As she continued to wipe his burning face he gave her a tired grin and said, “This is one time you won’t have to come searchin’ for me with your wooden spoon.”

     “Is that a promise, cowboy?”

     Worry creased the corners of Victoria’s eyes when Heath did no more than give a tiny nod of his head.

 

     “Honey, I’m going to get Audra to come in here and keep wiping you down with cool water. While she’s doing that I’ll get your lunch tray ready.”

 

     “I’m not really hungry.”

     “I know.  But you have to eat.  Doctor’s orders.”

 

     Heath made no reply.  Victoria patted his shoulder, then went in search of Audra.

 

     The blond man was barely aware of his sister taking his mother’s place.  He recognized Audra’s voice and the smell of her perfume, but he was too tired to open his eyes.  He thought it was strange that he should be so exhausted after having just awoken from twelve hours worth of sleep, but he didn’t have the presence of mind to question that occurrence.

 

     Heath didn’t mean to give the women a hard time over the food.  He wasn’t even aware he was fighting their attempts to spoon soup in his mouth and get him to take a few bites of fresh bread straight from the oven and lathered with butter, something he normally loved.  The next thing he was really cognizant of was the side of the mattress dipping under a weight that was heavier than Victoria’s or Audra’s, then Nick’s voice deep and stern.

     “Come on now, Heath.  One way or another you’re gonna eat this.”

 

     Heath tried to turn his head from the spoon aimed at his mouth but to no avail.  Another pair of male hands firmly cupped both sides of his face. Jarrod’s voice joined Nick’s.

 

     “Heath, I know you don’t feel like eating but you have to. Now do as Nick says and open your mouth.”

 

     Heath wondered what everyone was making such a fuss over.  After all, he just had a cold.  If they’d simply leave and let him sleep he’d be fine in a day or two.

 

     The feverish man bucked his body upward.  Nick jumped up, barely keeping his hold on the soup bowl.  What sloshed over fell onto the plate Silas had the foresight to set the bowl atop of, but not before droplets of the hot liquid splattered onto Nick’s hand.

 

     “Dammit, Heath!  You stop that right now and eat--”     

     Victoria grabbed Heath’s shoulders while Audra dove for his ankles.

 

     “Nick, he doesn’t know what he’s doing!”  Victoria shouted over Heath’s incoherent cries.  “There’s no use getting mad at him!  Just start sponging him down while we hold him still.”

 

     Nick set the soup on the top of Heath’s dresser and did as his mother ordered.  It took a few minutes, but the cool water seemed to help.  Heath relaxed enough for Victoria to let go of him and join Nick in his efforts.  How long of a time passed before the spoon was put in front of his mouth again Heath didn’t know. He had no memory of fighting his family, and was confused as to why his brothers were in the room when the last thing he recalled was Victoria entering with the lunch tray.  The blond man was too sick to ask any questions.  He simply opened his mouth and took what Nick offered.  He turned his head away after three swallows, but was coaxed by his brother into taking four more.  He refused the bread completely until Victoria pleaded, “Please, son, for me.  Just one bite.”

 

     Heath drank half the glass of water Jarrod held to his lips.  He hated the feeling of thickness in his throat and couldn’t understand why all the liquids he was getting didn’t make it go away. 

 

     The blond man slipped in and out of delirium as the afternoon passed.  His temperature climbed to an alarming height.  His face burned bright red as though he’d run a mile under the hot sun, and the women had a difficult time keeping up with changing the soaked linens that lay beneath him.

 

     What was going on in Heath’s mind, or what he was seeing when he opened his fever-glazed eyes, his family didn’t know.  If he spoke at all it was in Spanish so expert and rapid that Nick could only catch a couple of words from each sentence.

 

     The dark headed man took a wet cloth from his mother and placed it on his brother’s forehead. 

 

“Heath, it’s okay now. You’re not in Mexico, you’re with your family on the ranch.  Speak English, Heath.  Speak English so we can understand you.”

 

     Heath reached up and grabbed Nick by the shirt collar.  He pulled his brother’s face to his.  He still spoke in Spanish, but this time his words came out slow and distinct.  Though Victoria, Audra, and Jarrod had no idea what he was saying, they could sense the air of sincerity behind Heath’s tone.  Victoria was shocked to see Nick break into a grin, then begin to laugh. 

 

     As Heath collapsed back to his pillows Audra asked,  “What did he say, Nick?”

 

     “Well, he just called me Lupe, told me I have the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen, listed one or two other...attributes I won’t repeat in front of you ladies, and then he asked me to marry him.”

 

     “To marry him!”  Audra exclaimed.  “Are you sure?”

 

     “I’m sure.”

 

     “Who’s Lupe?”

     Jarrod shook his head with amusement.  “I have no idea, little sister.  But it sure will provide us with plenty of entertainment when Heath is feeling up to telling the story.”

     Victoria smiled at her children’s fun.  During the past three years the Barkleys had come to learn that Heath’s reserved nature was as much a part of him as the slight Southern drawl he got from his mother, and the blond hair he inherited from his Grandfather Barkley.  There were still a lot of things about Heath’s past his family knew nothing of.  Every time he revealed little tidbits it was like getting to see the inside of a treasure box.

 

     The afternoon gave way to evening.  Victoria sent her children down to the dining room to eat in shifts.  Victoria herself protested when Jarrod insisted she do the same, but finally gave into her eldest.  She did no more than pick at her meal.  By looking at the food left on the table the woman knew her sons and daughter had done the same.  She looked up with a start when she felt a hand rest on her shoulder.

 

     Silas’s soft voice was as soothing as a warm cup of hot cocoa at the end of a long, cold hike.

 

     “He’ll be all right, Mrs. Barkley.  My Heath...he’s a strong boy.  Tough in a way most others have never had to be.”

 

     Victoria smiled.  She reached up and patted her house servant’s hand. 

 

“Your Heath...that he is, isn’t he, Silas.  Your breakfast companion, your friend--”

 

     “The child I watch over for Mr. Barkley.”

 

     “Pardon?”

 

     Silas pulled out a chair and sat next to the mistress of the house.  He’d worked for her so long that neither one of them thought twice about his actions.

 

     “I...well, ma’am, I expect you’ll think ole’ Silas has gone around the bend if I tell you this.”

 

     “Tell me what?”

 

     “Not that long after Mr. Heath came to us, I had a dream, Mrs. Barkley.”

 

     “A dream?”

     “Yes, ma’am.  Or at least I guess you’d call it that.  Sometimes I believe it was more like a vision just like the visions my mama used to get.”

 

     “What was this dre...vision?”

     “I was in the kitchen makin’ breakfast just like I do every morning.  And he was there, ma’am, sitting right in the chair Mr. Heath sits in when he comes down early and eats with me.”

     “Who was there?”

     “Mr. Barkley.  Do you remember how he used to rise before the sun on many a morning and join me for breakfast long before the rest of you were up?”

     “I certainly do.  Tom enjoyed the times the two of you spent together.”

 

     “And I surely enjoyed those times, too, ma’am.  I got to know Mr. Barkley in a way I never would have had it not been for those mornings.   I’ve always thought it was a special sign from the Lord that my Heath does the same thing.  None of the other children do.  Not even Mr. Nick who’s an early riser, too.  They never have.  Just Heath.   Almost from the very first day he came here.  So as I was sayin’, one night I thought I was dreaming. And in the dream Mr. Barkley was eating breakfast with me.  I was tellin’ him all about Mr. Heath, what brought him to live with you all, and what a good man he is - how proud Mr. Barkley would be if he could meet him.  And then he reached over and patted my arm,...why I even felt the warmth of his hand, I did.  He smiled at me and said, ‘Silas, promise you’ll watch over my boy for me.  Be a special friend to my Heath.’

 

     “I smiled back at him and told him I’d do as he asked until my dying day.  Then...well then I’d say I woke up, only I don’t think I really did.”

 

     “What do you mean?”

     “Ma’am, I wasn’t in bed at all, but in the kitchen.  I was sitting at the table eating breakfast, and there right next to me was a half empty plate and a chair pushed out as though someone had just gotten up.  At first I thought I’d just been daydreaming and Mr. Heath had been with me.  But then he came whistling down the back stairs and that’s when I knew that somehow, Mr. Barkley had really been there.”