Nick Barkley was livid. It was bad enough that Ezra Craddock was trying to start a range war, scaring off the hands hired to harvest the year's orange crop, but having Hal Walker brush him off, telling him in that condescending tone that there was no way to get the land dispute heard by the courts in less than six weeks, just stuck in his craw. No, he wasn't Tom Barkley, and yes, he was only twenty-four, but that didn't give his father's lawyer the right to treat him like some wet-behind-the-ears kid!

He stormed into the saloon and stomped up to the bar. "Whiskey," he growled and the bartender complied without a word, not wanting to aggravate the obviously irate rancher any further than he already was.

"Lawyers," Nick muttered as he tossed back his drink and gestured for the bartender to leave the bottle. "A bunch of arrogant, no-good snakes, the whole lot."

"Having a few legal troubles?"

A smooth baritone broke into his thoughts and Nick looked over at the speaker. A pair of bright blue eyes danced merrily at him as the dark haired man took a sip of his own drink.

"Not that it's any of your business," Nick groused and topped off his glass.

"Nope, reckon it isn't." The other man pushed back his hat and leaned against the bar, idly playing with his drink.

Nick looked at him curiously and wondered why he seemed so familiar. "Have we met before?"

The stranger shook his head. "Just moved to town a couple days ago. Stockton's growing, seemed like a good place to set up shop." He finished his drink and Nick refilled it without being asked. Something about the blue-eyed stranger intrigued him.

"And what is it that you do?"

"I'm a lawyer."

Nick coughed a little on his whiskey. Put your foot in it that time, Barkley, he admonished himself. "Uh, sorry about what I just said. I guess you could say I'm having some legal troubles."

"So I gathered," the other man said with a grin. He held out his hand. "Jarrod Thomson, attorney."

Nick took the offered hand and shook it. "Nick Barkley. Say, you wouldn't have the time to maybe take on a new client, would you?'

"I just might." Jarrod pulled a battered old watch out of his pocket and checked the time before draining his glass. "Why don't we head over to my office and talk about it?"

Nick followed suit, placing his empty glass on the bar and readjusting his hat. "Sounds like a fine idea. Let's go."

.

"Nice place you got here," Nick commented as he looked around the spartan but scrupulously tidy space located a couple blocks off the main street and was unable to stop from comparing it to Walker's lavish oak panelled office.

"You take what you can get," the lawyer said as he hung his hat on a hook beside the door. He leaned on the edge of the desk and tucked his fingers in his pockets. "So, Mr. Barkley, what seems to be your legal problem?"

Nick slapped his hat down on the desk and draped himself into one of the chairs. "Land dispute. How much do you know about the area?"

Jarrod shrugged. "Some. Grew up a little over a day's ride from here, a mining camp up the Stanislaus."

"You may have heard of our family then."

Jarrod chuckled. "I don't think there's anyone near this valley who hasn't heard of the Barkleys."

"Well, the Barkley spread is bordered on the north by the Craddock Ranch. The divider is Green Creek, but there was a flash flood not long ago that changed the course of the creek and the darned thing cut way into our property. Put a big chunk of our orange groves on Craddock's side of the divider." Nick blew out a gust of air in frustration. "Ever since then, old man Craddock's claimed it was an act of God and says those orange trees are now his. He and his men have been taking potshots at anyone who tries to even get near to pick those oranges. Scared off half our harvest hands."

"And the courts can't settle it?"

Nick pounded his fist on the arm of the chair. "Pompous windbag of a lawyer says the case can't be heard for at least six weeks." He turned an almost repentant smile towards Jarrod. "No offence."

Jarrod walked across the room to look out the window. "And it's harvest time now," he mused. "I'm thinking you don't have six weeks."

"You got that straight. And that's just the least of our problems. We've spent years cultivating just to prove we can grow oranges. If Craddock gets his hands on that land, he'll chop down those trees and turn the land back to pasture!" Nick rose to his feet and paced across the small space. "So, what do you think?"

"Well…"

Both men turned as the door opened.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Thomson, I didn't realize you were busy."

"Please, come in, Mrs. Perkins." Jarrod bestowed a charming smile on the grey-haired woman. "What can I do for you?"

The elderly lady patted him on the arm and handed him a cloth-covered basket. "Some fresh baked bread and a dozen eggs and I'll bring you some more next week, just like we agreed." She looked at him hesitantly. "Are you sure it's enough, after the way you helped me out…?"

Jarrod set the basket on the top of the bookcase. "I think it's quite reasonable," he reassured her. He opened the door as Mrs. Perkins turned to go. "Now if you have any more trouble with that landlord of yours, you just come on by, all right?"

Mrs. Perkins smiled brightly. "Thank you again, Mr. Thomson," she said as she left.

Nick indicated the basket with a raised brow. "Bread and eggs?"

Jarrod just smiled. "I'd have to buy them anyway and this just saves me a trip to the store; plus, it's what she can afford. But don't worry, Mr. Barkley, I expect a man of your means to pay cash," he added with a light-hearted glint in his eye.

Nick had to laugh at that. "Assuming you can do anything worth paying for."

"Well, for a small retainer I'll look over the documents and precedents and let you know what I think." Jarrod gave him an appraising look. "Ten dollars sound reasonable?"

Nick fished a gold eagle out of his pocket and slapped it into Jarrod's hand. "You have yourself a client, Mr. Thomson," he said. "Can you meet me tomorrow, say, three o'clock?"

"I'll be here," Jarrod confirmed and Nick replaced his hat firmly on his head before leaving the office, smiling at the imagined look on Hal Walker's face when he found out he was no longer the sole lawyer for the Barkley family.

.

.

"Mother!"

Victoria winced from where she was arranging flowers in the parlour. "I'm right here, Nick," she admonished. "Must you yell?"

Nick took off his hat and stripped off his gloves. "Sorry, Mother, didn't see you there." He walked over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Where's Heath?' He turned and hollered up the stairs. "Heath!"

Victoria closed her eyes, "Really, Nick!" she said in frustration. "Your brother is out looking over the new horses. He said to tell you he wasn't able to find any new harvest hands for the oranges."

"Figures." Nick stalked over to the drinks table and poured himself a whiskey. "I'd hoped word hadn't gotten too far about our little dispute with the Craddocks. Guess I was wrong."

Victoria placed the last of the flowers in the vase. "I don't understand why Ezra can't be reasonable," she said as she came into the room. "I mean, Heath's idea of harvesting the crop and putting the profits into escrow until the dispute is settled works in everyone's favour."

"Yeah, well, some people just can't be reasonable and Craddocks are at the top of that list." Nick finished his drink. "Guess I should go up and get ready for dinner." He started up the stairs and then turned around. "Oh, by the way, I hired a new lawyer. Name's Thomson."

Victoria raised an elegant eyebrow. "And what happened to Hal?"

Nick snorted in exasperation. "Hal Walker treats me like a two-year-old. Figures I don't know the difference between a contract and a waiver. Can't get him to budge his sorry carcass and get something done before those oranges all rot on the trees or Craddock starts chopping them down."

"Maybe you just need to give him more time to get used to dealing with you," Victoria advised. "He was your father's lawyer since we came to this valley, you know."

"We don't have time!" Nick smacked his hand against the rail. "And I'm not Father and he points that out every time I see him. I've been running this ranch with Heath's help for almost a year, successfully I might add, contracts and payrolls and everything! What more do I have to do to get some respect?" He shook his head at his mother's cautioning look. "No, Mother, I think it's time for a change. And I dunno exactly what it is, but there's something about this Jarrod Thomson. I really think he's going do something for us."

"I certainly hope you're right, dear," Victoria told him. "Now, Silas is fixing chicken creole for dinner, so you don't want to be late."

.

Jarrod tossed a few of the eggs in a skillet, crumbling in the last bit of cheese from the cupboard as he stirred them. Not a great dinner, but better than a lot he'd had in his life. He'd be able to put aside some of the money Nick Barkley had paid him and use it for the rent on the office with the small room in behind he was using as living quarters, plus possibly save a bit to send home to his mama. He chuckled a bit to himself and sliced some of Mrs. Perkins' delicious-smelling bread as he thought of his new client. Definitely a case of being in the right place at the right time for a fledgling attorney to land a well-to-do client like that. Now all he had to do was keep him.

Jarrod poured himself a cup of coffee, took his meal to the small table wedged in the corner beside the bed and sat, pencil in hand to work out exactly how to start resolving the land dispute in the Barkleys' favour.