"I'd like to see Judge Parker please."
Jarrod turned a dashing smile on the auburn-haired receptionist as she looked up from the document she was copying. Her cheeks flushed under his gaze when she returned the smile.
"Do you have an appointment, sir?"
"No," he said, removing his hat and leaning slightly on the desk. "When do you think is the earliest I could make one, Miss…?" Jarrod had taken the morning to peruse the papers in the county records pertaining to the boundary between the Barkley and Craddock ranches before heading to the courthouse to search out precedents. With arguments marshalled and papers in order, all that was left now was to get the judge to sign the court order.
"Carson," the pretty secretary replied. "Amelia Carson." She flipped through a calendar on her desk. "The judge has a very busy schedule, Mr…" She also paused, waiting.
"Jarrod Thomson, attorney, at your service," he said gallantly. He took her hand in a genteel handshake and held it slightly longer than strictly necessary. "My client has a very urgent matter that needs to be addressed. The lives of several thousand oranges are at stake if it isn't resolved immediately."
Miss Carson smiled at his light-hearted manner. "Well, Mr. Thomson, I'm afraid the judge doesn't have any time until…" She looked again into his blue eyes as his gaze never left her. "Why don't I see if he has a moment now?"
"The oranges and I would be eternally grateful, Miss Carson," Jarrod told her and the charming smile never left his lips.
She blushed again as he moved around the desk to hold her chair as she got up. "Just wait here."
"I won't move an inch," Jarrod promised.
The redhead disappeared into the inner office and came out a moment later. "Go right in, Mr. Thomson."
"You," he said, picking up his hat before taking her hand and kissing it lightly, "are an angel."
He left the sighing receptionist in the outer office as he closed the door behind him. The tall greying man behind the heavy oak desk stood and extended his hand.
"I don't believe we've met, Mr. Thomson," he said as Jarrod shook his hand with a firm grip.
"Haven't had the pleasure yet, Your Honour." Jarrod turned the charm he had used on the judge's secretary into an air of confidence. "I've only been in town for a few days and I'm still trying to get everything in order."
"Have a seat." The judge gestured to a chair in front of the desk and Jarrod sat as the judge moved back to his own comfortable leather chair. "Now what can I do for you? My secretary led me to believe it was an urgent matter."
"It is." Jarrod pulled the papers he'd prepared out of their folder and handed them to the judge. Judge Parker perused them carefully as Jarrod outlined the situation. "So you see," he concluded, "if this dispute isn't resolved right away, the financial repercussions will be significant and there have already been reports of threats and violence."
The judge stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I will need time to review the matter," he said slowly, "read the depositions, hear statements from the involved parties…" He looked up sharply. "Isn't this matter is already on the docket for a few weeks from now?"
"In a few weeks, the matter will almost be moot if the oranges aren't picked," Jarrod said quickly. "I understand the time needed for due process, which is why I'm only requesting that you order that the trees be left standing and my client be allowed to harvest his crop. That way, the oranges won't spoil before the case can be heard properly. He's willing to hold on to any proceeds from the harvest until ownership can be confirmed." At least, I hope he's willing to do that, Jarrod thought. Nick Barkley wasn't supposed to meet him until later that afternoon but he hadn't wanted to waste time. Oh, well, he can always fire me if he doesn't like it.
The judge slowly nodded, picked up his pen and signed the bottom of the prepared paper. "Here's your court order, Mr. Thomson," he said, handing it across the desk to Jarrod who folded it and returned it to the folder. "I look forward to seeing you in my courtroom."
"And I look forward to being there, Your Honour," Jarrod replied and gave the judge a parting handshake before gathering his things and leaving the office.
"Are the oranges saved?" Miss Carson asked as Jarrod paused at her desk.
"They've been given a reprieve," Jarrod told her with a smile as he donned his hat. "I hope I'll have the pleasure of running into you again, Miss Carson."
"I'm looking forward to it, Mr. Thomson," she said with a lovely smile of her own.
He tipped his hat to her as left and wondered whether he had the funds to ask her out to dinner sometime soon. He was whistling as he unlocked the door to his office and looked up when he heard the jingling of spurs.
"I hope your good mood has something to do with my case, counsellor," Nick Barkley said, leaning against the wall as Jarrod opened the door.
"Partially, Mr. Barkley," Jarrod assured him with a grin and ushered the tall rancher inside. He put the leather folder down on the desk and took out the paper signed by the judge. "Judge Parker issued an order stating that you have the right to harvest your crop while we're waiting for the hearing, provided the money is put in escrow until the final decision. And I've found enough precedents to feel confident that decision will end up in your favour."
Nick's face broke out in a wide grin and he gave Jarrod a hearty slap on the back that almost knocked the wind out of him. "Now all I've got to do is stuff this in Craddock's face," he gloated, smacking the paper into his gloved hand. "Care to come with me, Thomson?"
"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Mr. Barkley."
.
.
Nick chortled with glee as they walked off Ezra Craddock's porch and gathered their horses' reins. "Did you see his face?" Nick said as he mounted. "Never seen a man look so much like a landed fish."
"We still have to win in court, Mr. Barkley," Jarrod cautioned, but he was filled with satisfaction as well.
"Pah," Nick said dismissively. "Just a formality. And it's Nick."
"All right, Nick." Jarrod smiled. "Just don't count your chickens before they hatch."
Nick only chuckled as they moved down the road. He couldn't help noticing Jarrod's cavalry straight posture and the easy way he held the sorrel's reins in his left hand with his right resting casually at his side. He thought the posture seemed somehow familiar, but a lot of men rode like that, including his late father and Nick shrugged off the feeling.
"Hey, Thomson," he called as the attorney took the turn to town, struck with the urge to get to know the dark-haired man better, "if you don't have any other plans, why don't you come to the ranch for dinner?"
Jarrod stopped and shifted in the saddle to face Nick. "I wouldn't want to impose," he replied, "and if it's Nick, then it's Jarrod."
"Won't be an imposition at all, Jarrod," Nick assured him. "There's always plenty and I think the family'd like to meet you. What do you say?"
Jarrod nodded after a moment. "All right, Nick, sounds good." He turned his horse's head and they rode together in the direction of the Barkley ranch.
"Nice place." Jarrod looked around at the sprawl of outbuildings topped off by the huge white mansion. "Ranching and oranges seem to be paying off."
"We do all right," Nick said dismissively as they dismounted, but Jarrod caught the gleam of pride in the hazel eyes. "Hey, Heath!" he called as they led their horses in the direction of the barn. A young blond cowboy turned and pushed back his hat as he sauntered over to them and a stablehand took the reins of the horses to lead them away.
"Hey, Nick," he said, looking over at Nick's guest. "How'd things go in town?"
"Jarrod here got the judge to issue an order saying Craddock has to let us harvest the crop," Nick replied with a grin. "You should've seen the look on old Ezra's face when we gave him the good news."
"Well, boy howdy, that's music to my ears." Heath's face sported a grin of its own.
"Oh, forgot the introductions." Nick turned to Jarrod. "Jarrod, this here's my brother Heath. Heath, this is Jarrod Thomson, our new lawyer. I invited him to stay for dinner."
"Mr. Thomson," Heath greeted and shook his hand.
Jarrod smiled at the formality. "Jarrod, please."
"I'm about done here," Heath told them, "we can go tell Mother to set another place for supper."
The three men strode companionably toward the house.
.
Victoria heard the footsteps on the porch as she walked out of the dining room and her heart almost stopped as she entered the foyer.
It can't be.
She blinked and the brief vision of her husband and two sons coming into the house vanished and was replaced with that of Nick and Heath, an unfamiliar man between them. Regaining her composure, Victoria pushed away the unsettling feeling the dark haired stranger gave her and smiled graciously.
"Mother," Nick greeted, moving to sling an arm around her shoulders, "this is Jarrod Thomson, the lawyer I was telling you about. Got done in one day what Hal Walker hasn't been able to do in six. Jarrod, my mother Victoria Barkley.'
Jarrod chuckled. "I keep telling Nick that the land is still disputed and I haven't really done anything yet but he doesn't seem to listen." He inclined his head politely. "Mrs. Barkley, it's a pleasure to meet you."
"You as well." Victoria shook off the shiver his deep voice gave her. "Nick, I'm assuming you've asked Mr. Thomson to stay for dinner?"
"Yep." Nick walked into the parlour and held up a glass. "Jarrod, what'll it be? Whiskey or scotch?"
"A scotch sounds good." Jarrod followed and took the proffered glass after Nick filled it.
"Mother? Heath?" Nick offered and poured for the rest of the family before getting his own. He held it up. "To the orange harvest," he toasted.
"If we send the hands we've got out there first thing tomorrow morning," Heath observed after everyone drank to Nick's toast, "the word'll get out and we could have a full crew within a day or two. I know Pedro and a few of the others said they'd be back when it was safe."
"Say, Jarrod." Nick gestured with his drink. "If you've got some free time, you should come on a tour of the place. See those oranges you're helping us save."
"Well, I probably should spend some time in my office," Jarrod reminded him. "It's going to be hard for new clients to find me out in an orange grove."
"Bah." Nick waved off his concerns. "Once folks find out you're working for us, business'll be beating down your door. Get out of that stuffy office and dirty those lily white hands of yours, why don't you?"
Jarrod glanced down at his hands and Victoria could see they were scarred and weathered and wondered a bit. They weren't the sort of hands she'd expect on someone who made his living at an office in town.
"I guess they could stand to get dirty once in a while," he said lightly. "All right, Nick. How about tomorrow?"
Nick's answer was cut off as he saw Audra come down the stairs. "Audra," he announced, "this is our new lawyer, Jarrod Thomson. Jarrod, this lovely young woman is my little sister Audra."
"Miss Barkley," Jarrod said courteously to the pretty young blonde.
"Hello," Audra replied and gave him a brilliant dimpled smile before turning to her mother with a slightly puzzled expression. "I didn't realize we were hiring a new lawyer. Did Mr. Walker move or something?"
"No, dear," Victoria replied, "but Mr. Thomson has impressed your brother a great deal. Silas," she said as the major-domo came out of the archway, "please set another place for dinner. We have a guest."
"Of course, Mrs. Barkley. Dinner will be on the table in a minute." Silas took a second glance in their guest's direction before returning to the dining room and Victoria wondered what he'd seen to put that strange expression on his face.
.
"So, Jarrod," Heath asked after they settled down to eat, "what brings you to Stockton? Nick told us you just moved in not long ago."
Jarrod reached for his water glass, taking a moment to admire the finely cut crystal before answering. He'd been invited to dinner several times by more well-to-do acquaintances and was always amazed by the sheer amount of food that graced the table. He wondered if the family appreciated how fortunate they were.
"I wanted to hang my shingle someplace not too far from home," he explained. "Stockton seemed to be the logical choice."
"And where is home?" Audra wanted to know.
Jarrod took a sip. "You probably haven't heard of it. A little mining camp called Strawberry. Not too many people live there anymore since the mine played out."
Victoria slowly put down her fork as the food in her mouth turned to sawdust. No, her mind denied as pieces started clicking into place. No, he can't be. She ruthlessly pushed away the growing suspicion and refused to acknowledge it.
"I've heard of it," Heath told them. "Mother, didn't Father own the mine up there, a long time ago?"
Victoria nodded as her heart raced. "Yes, we sold it before Nick was even born. More potatoes, Mr. Thomson?" she asked, trying to appear calm.
"Yes, please." Jarrod took the offered bowl.
"So how does a kid from a mining camp end up going to Harvard?" Nick wanted to know. At Jarrod's raised eyebrow, he added, "Noticed the degree on your wall. Pretty impressive."
Jarrod shrugged. "The attorney I read law with gave me a recommendation before he passed away," he said modestly. "He didn't have any family and bequeathed me a generous amount, almost enough to cover tuition." He thought about the long hours loading freight at the train yard to make ends meet and marvelled, not for the first time, that he managed to find time to study and sleep as well.
"Your folks must've been real proud," Heath commented as he speared a slice of roast beef out from under Nick's fork. Nick gave his brother a good-natured glare before grabbing another.
Smiling, Jarrod said, "I've never seen anyone look as happy as my mama when I showed her."
"And your father?" Audra asked brightly and Victoria held her breath.
Jarrod cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Never knew my father, Miss Barkley." There was an awkward silence around the table until Nick spoke up.
"So, Jarrod, how does eight o'clock sound for that tour tomorrow?"
"Sounds good, Nick."
Victoria was relieved at the change of subject and saw that relief echoed on the face of the young lawyer. She remained quiet through the rest of dinner and let the talk wash over her, her mind in something akin to a state of shock. No, she thought over and over, no, Tom, how could you? How could you?
.
Heath noticed something was up with his mother throughout dinner. He wasn't sure what it was; the conversation was innocuous and their guest was charming and well-mannered. Nick took Jarrod into the library after dinner to show him some of the boundary maps for the ranch with Audra tagging along, so Heath took the opportunity to speak to Victoria once they were alone.
"Mother?" he asked. "Are you feeling okay?"
Victoria looked up at him and blinked. "What was that, dear?"
"I was wondering if you were feeling all right," he repeated. "You were awfully quiet through dinner."
She gave him a small smile. "I'm fine, Heath. Just thinking is all. Heath," she continued after a moment, "what do you think of Jarrod Thomson?"
"Seems like a nice enough fellow. He and Nick get along real well." He gave her a lop-sided grin. "Better than Nick and Hal Walker. There's been more than a few times I've had to rein in Nick's temper when Mr. Walker tries to brush him off." He regarded her closely. "You sure you're all right?"
Victoria patted him on the arm. "Don't worry about me, dear. Why don't you head into the library with Nick and our guest? I'll just see if Silas needs a hand."
Heath shook his head as he watched her leave the room. And she complains I never open up when something's bothering me. He chuckled. At least he came by it honestly.
.
Victoria bypassed the archway, deciding to go up the back stairs. Silas was in the kitchen readying a tray and looked up when he heard her.
"Just taking some coffee in," he told her. "Will you be joining everyone?"
Victoria shook her head. "No, Silas. I'm just… not feeling very well at the moment. Could you please give them my regrets?"
"Of course, Mrs. Barkley." Silas placed the sugar bowl on the tray. "Mr. Thomson seems to fit right in with your boys," he said, seemingly out of the blue.
Glancing at him sharply, Victoria recalled the expression she'd seen on her long-time friend's face earlier. He wasn't looking at her as he arranged the cups. "You noticed something, didn't you, Silas?"
"Not my place to say, Mrs. Barkley." He picked up the tray and looked at her. "But from what I saw at dinner, he seems like a fine young man."
Victoria nodded as she blinked to keep the moisture in her eyes at bay. "Yes, he does, Silas," she answered quietly, "a credit to both his parents."
She slowly climbed the stairs, going to her room and shutting the door. She sat at the dressing table and unfastened her hair before picking up her ivory-handled brush and slowly pulled it through the silver locks.
Strawberry. She hadn't thought about the place for years. When Tom sold the mine, she'd closed that chapter of their lives, having forgiven her husband for his indiscretion long before.
Forgiven, but not able to be forgotten, she realized, the product of Tom's liaison with Leah Thomson having coffee in the library at that very moment. She had no doubts; by Silas' comments he recognized the resemblance the young man bore to her husband the same as she had and the name and place fit the circumstances like a glove.
How, Tom? she thought. How could we have missed realizing that there could have been a child? Why didn't that young man's mother contact us, let you know you had a son? She thought of the scarred and calloused hands she'd noticed and wondered what kind of childhood a fatherless boy would have had in a rough mining camp like Strawberry. She was under no illusions that it was anything like the life Tom's other sons had, knowing the stigma an unwed mother and her child lived under. With no husband to support her, Victoria shuddered to think of what Jarrod's mother might have resorted to in order to provide for him. She didn't know much of the woman her husband had betrayed her with, only her name and the circumstances of their meeting that Tom had finally revealed to her in a moment of guilt when he was unable to live with the secret of his infidelity any longer. It had taken a while for Victoria to forgive him, but she never could fault the young woman for taking in a stranger who had been beaten half to death and nursing him back to health. She easily understood how Leah had fallen for Tom, his good looks and rugged charm able to sway his wife even until the last days of their marriage.
What should I do, Tom? she wondered as she picked up the picture she always kept on her desk. Tom Barkley's eyes gazed out at her, a match for the brilliant blue of the young lawyer downstairs. His mother seems to have raised him into a fine man and he's done well for himself. Do I have the right to disrupt his life? And do I have the right to deny him knowledge of his heritage, his birthright as your son? Those thoughts weighed on Victoria's mind as she readied herself for bed and she was no closer to an answer when she finally drifted off to sleep.
