We Meet Again
Ghost of the Three Paths -- Story One
Halloween Challenge

by Lindabrit

Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the TV program "Big Valley" are the creations of Four Star/Republic Pictures and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended by the author. The ideas expressed in this story are copyrighted to the author.

Three witches are known in legend for the disaster they brought upon a house, a loyal subject, and a king. Three witches who will now bring their lunacies and prophecies upon a house in the new world and the West. The house of Barkley and one loyal man … a Barkley son … will be the subject of their spells. That Barkley son is…Heath

There are three paths that lead to the gates of the Barkley ranch, one is the Stockton road, a beaten path, leading from the town to the ranch. The other two are trails, one cutting across the open range of the ranch, leading to several outlying ranches and then up to the high country. The other trail, cuts through the Barkley vineyards and then runs south to meet the trails leading down to Mexico.

On this particular evening, a solitary rider could be seen on each of the three paths, the three riders were brothers, their name was Barkley. Each was headed for the Barkley ranch, their home and each was tired and eager to reach their destination.

Heath Barkley headed his horse homeward across the range, he had delivered some papers to a farmer whose land abutted that of the Barkleys, for his lawyer brother Jarrod. In the course of conversation over coffee at the farmer's house, the farmer's wife had asked Heath a question about his father and the blond rancher had quietly told her that he had never actually met Tom Barkley. The woman had apologized, Heath had smoothed over her embarrassment and the incident had passed off easily enough.

He had dismissed the matter from his mind and was only wondering now if he would reach home before the rain began. He turned up his coat collar against the biting wind, a cold October night and it was Halloween too. Heath quickened Charger's pace, aware of a strange mist that seemed to be gathering on the path ahead of him and tried to shrug off the feeling of dread that was creeping over him.

Suddenly, so abruptly as to spook Charger into rearing up, a figure appeared on the road ahead of Heath. The man stood six feet tall and he wore a long rain slicker almost down to his booted feet. His black Stetson was worn pulled down but Heath could see that he had vivid piercing blue eyes and a fair beard. He seemed to have a powerful physique as near as Heath could tell, but there was no indication that he wore a weapon of any sort.

Calming his horse with difficulty, Heath peered through the mist at the stranger who had materialized so mysteriously. There was something familiar about the man, although Heath knew he had never seen him before.

The stranger spoke in a gravelly voice, "nice horse you got there."

"Thanks," said Heath briefly, his ice-blue eyes watching every move the stranger made.

"Where'd you get him?"

Heath's scalp crawled with fear, that voice, it was deep and resonant and very, very familiar, it was Nick's voice, and those intensely blue eyes, they were surely Jarrod's eyes!

Heath forced himself to speak calmly, "he was a present from my brother Nick."

The stranger smiled, a curiously twisted, lop-sided smile, and Heath's flesh crept anew, it was his own smile he saw glinting at him and now he could no longer doubt who this was. He didn't know what to do or say, so he gripped Charger's reins and waited for the apparition, the ghost of his father Tom Barkley, to speak again.

"Nick always did have a good eye for a horse, do you too?"

"So...so they tell me," croaked Heath.

"You know who I am Boy?"

"I know who you were," retorted Heath in a stronger voice.

Tom Barkley threw back his head and laughed, it was the same clear, joyous laugh that Nick Barkley had. He fixed his illegitimate son with a compelling look.

"You told that woman you had never met your father," he said flatly.

Heath's own lop-sided smile dawned, "so you thought you'd rectify the omission?"

The ghost's answer surprised Heath, "no Boy, I came to tell you that I don't like my sons telling lies."

Heath stiffened, "I wasn't lying," he grated.

"I'm afraid you were Son, though I'm sure you didn't know it."

Heath's eyes narrowed, "are you saying that we met when...when you were this side of the grave?"

Tom nodded, "do you remember a skirmish you were involved in during the war, a little place called Booth Ferry?"

Heath frowned searching his memory, "yes," he said at last, "I fell foul of a few fellas in my unit, they were older than me."

Tom's rich chuckle came forth again, "well Heath, most everyone in your unit was older than you, on account of you should have been in school not the Army!"

Despite his very confused feelings about his father, Heath couldn't help himself returning the ghost's smile.

"I remember three of them backing me into a corner, when the raid was over, they were going to beat the tar out of me."

Tom nodded, "but you gave a pretty good account of yourself all the same."

"I did, but all the same I was getting the worst of it."

His father said, "do you remember what happened then Heath?"

"An officer came," said Heath, trying to remember, "a colonel, he swept down on us on horseback and he kicked the two still on their feet into the nearest ditch. Then he stretched down a hand to me, helped me up behind him on his horse and rode off with me. He set me down back with the rest of the men and went off to find my C.O. Those men never bothered me again, in fact nobody did."

Tom smiled, "well there you are then Heath, at least we rode together once, after a fashion."

Heath stared at the ghost of Tom Barkley, "it was you?"

"It was me," confirmed his father.

Charger pranced nervously and Heath brought him under control again. He looked helplessly at the father he had never known and thought he had never met, he didn't know what to say.

The apparition lifted a hand, "Heath, I wish...well...I wish a lot of things Son."

Heath remembered that colonel, the power of the man's personality and his strength of spirit, suddenly he felt warmer toward Tom Barkley than ever before.

"Me too Sir," he whispered.

"Enjoy the rest of your life my fine son and know that you have your father's love."

The ghostly form vanished on the words, leaving Heath trembling on the path, his restive horse plunging and snorting as the peculiar mist cleared away as swiftly as it had fallen. Drawing a shaky breath, Heath Barkley urged the frightened Charger forward and rode for home.

THE END