Chapter Ten
Jarrod and Heath looked around the Peterson's living room. From the size of the house, they had not expected such a large living room. There was a piano that sat in the northeast corner. A fireplace was on the west side. A large rug, along with a nice sized mahogany, round table sat in the middle of the room. The sofa they sat on was against a large window on the south side of the room. There were a few chairs as well; Mr. Peterson sat, legs crossed in one that sat off to the right of the fireplace. There was also a built in bookcase on part of the east wall. They could tell by the look of conflict in his eyes, the gentleman was experiencing quite the inner turmoil. It did not help them relax.
"Is our brother alive?" Jarrod finally had to ask the one question that had been bothering him since their arrival.
"Yes," Mr. Peterson shifted his weight. "Only he's not working for me anymore, left two years ago."
"Where is he now?" Jarrod figured if the gentleman knew Nick was alive, he had to know where he was.
William, who admired Nick greatly, felt the same as Ben and Adam…Nick needed to reconcile with his family. However, he wasn't just going to send these men away without making sure they knew everything he did. In his opinion, they needed the information.
"Before I say anything, how much did Ben tell you?" William didn't want to repeat things his guests already knew.
Jarrod sighed and told their host that they knew about Melissa's miscarriages and the loss of their first two children. "Is there more? Besides the fact that he knew about the intentions the railroad had towards Father and the farmers that lived around Stockton," The fact that Nick would warn them about the railroad, but stay away from the fight or keep tabs on the situation well enough to know their father had been killed irritated Jarrod, but he wasn't going to say that to Mr. Peterson.
William tapped his chair and kept a steady gaze on Jarrod and Heath. He then surprised them both apparently doing what Jarrod had done to Heath—replied in such a manner that made the two brothers think he had read Jarrod's mind. "You're wrong. Your brother did more than send those letters."
Jarrod and Heath's eyes widened as they felt shock waves go through them. "What do you mean, he did more? We haven't seen him since he left the house back in eighteen sixty-three, and those letters are the only time he's written!" Jarrod sat straight up, doing his best not to bark.
"He and my foreman went the rounds with a two of Jordon's men a couple months after he sent those letters. The men they fought had orders to kill your father. Instead, they lost their lives and your brother fought for two weeks to keep his." When Jarrod and Heath's mouths fell open, Mr. Peterson added, "Yes, he was wounded in the fight." He paused and then pulled the rug out from both brothers when he quietly added, "He blames himself for your father's death, bet you don't know that either."
"What?" The confusion Jarrod and Heath felt could be seen as clear as the noonday sun.
"He had an army friend overhear more plans being made to kill your father. He left him determined to stop the man as he and my foreman had the first two only your father was dead by the time he got to California." Mr. Peterson stood up, walked over to bookcase, pulled out what appeared to be a large book…only he shocked them by opening it up and revealing a hidden compartment instead. He walked over to where Heath and Jarrod were sitting and handed them the box.
Jarrod took the 'book' and he, along with Heath, looked inside. Their hearts skipped a beat as they saw their father's obituary, along with other paper-which Mr. Peterson informed them were copies of paperwork his foreman and Nick had turned over to the government. "I'm waiting to hear from your brother. I wrote to him and asked him what he wanted done with this box-I recently discovered it in the attic."
"This doesn't make sense." Jarrod looked at Mr. Peterson, feeling an array of emotions. "Why would he warn Father, risk his own life to keep our father alive and then do his best to get to California to keep him alive and not come to the house and talk to us? Why not come to the funeral?"
The moment Jarrod asked the last question he sucked in his breath and Heath said, as he stiffened up, "He did come! Didn't he?"
William slowly nodded his head. "There were thousands who attended that funeral…many who never met your brother. It was easy for him to slip in and out without anyone knowing he'd been there."
"But why?" Jarrod's logical mind needed an answer, one that made sense, and none of this was making any sense.
William, who had sat down once again, tapped the arm of his chair once more. He prayed he was right in telling these men everything he knew—or his opinions anyway. He finally decided to clarify he could only do that very thing-give them facts and his opinions. "The facts can't be changed, but I could be wrong in my observations. Once you actually meet up with your brother, he'd have to confirm anything I might say."
"Fair enough," Both Jarrod and Heath replied at the same time, something that had Mr. Peterson smiling just a little.
"I think it boils down to a few things. One, at first,…in his eyes he was protecting his wife. As far as he knew, none of you trusted or approved of her. Yes, he could have contacted you after the war and ironed that one out easy enough only when one is grieving they need the support of people who love and trust them." He saw Jarrod flinch just a little. Inwardly he sighed, and then continued. "I'm not going to hash over their time on Ben's ranch. I'm skipping to their time here." He paused and waited until Jarrod and Heath acknowledged they'd heard and understood.
Just as Mr. Peterson began talking, his wife came in and announced it was time for supper. "We can continue this conversation after supper, out on the porch. That is, if you two don't mind."
"We're fine with it." Jarrod told him as he and Heath followed their host out of the living room, down a short hallway and then turned into the kitchen that lay to their right.