Chapter Three

Previously:

Once the waitress had left, Jarrod asked if Carson minded meeting him at the sheriff's office once Carson was through with his meal. "I have to go talk to either the sheriff or his deputy for a few minutes before I head home. Afterwards, we could ride to the ranch together. No need for you to spend the night in town."

While Carson knew it would be the deputy that Jarrod would find in the office-unless Fred had returned to the office for some reason, he wasn't about to write that fact out on paper. After all, Jarrod would want to know how Carson knew it was Fred's house the sheriff had gone too. That being the case, Carson simply nodded and continued eating as Jarrod turned and walked away.

It was almost eight-thirty at night before Jarrod and Carson rode through the gates that stood in front of the Barkley mansion. They would have arrived sooner only there had been a disturbance in town, and they'd wound up helping the deputy apprehend a would be crook.

"May I take the horses?" Ciego, who had surprised Jarrod when he walked around the corner of the house, asked as Jarrod and the stranger with him dismounted.

"We'd appreciate that." Jarrod handed Jingo's reins to the long term Barkley employee. Carson did the same-once he'd removed the saddlebags he carried with him. The two men then headed for the house while Ciego led the horses toward the stable.

Soon Jarrod and Carson stood in the foyer watching Victoria-who had heard the front door open-descend the stairs.

"Sorry if we disturbed you, Mother. This is Carson Hudson. I've hired him." He then explained that they'd have to communicate through writing until Carson learned at least some sign language. That is, if Carson decided to go that route. "I figured he could sleep in the house tonight, and then I'll show him to the bunk house tomorrow."

"Of course, he may. Nice to meet you," Victoria held out her hand and shook Carson's hand. It was all she could do not to stare as she looked at his eyes. She might not have succeeded only the man looked more than uncomfortable, and she didn't want to make it worse. "Silas," She turned when she heard the gentleman walking up the hallway. "Would you show Mr. Carson to the guest room?"

"Sure thing, ma'am. Follow me, sir." Silas smiled as he started up the stairs, never letting on whether or not the man's eyes bothered him.

Once Silas and Carson reached the top of the stairs and turned the corner into the hallway, Victoria turned her attention to Jarrod-who had walked into living room and was getting himself a drink.

"I know that man from somewhere." Victoria said as she walked up to the small round table they kept the decanter and shot glasses on. "If his hair wasn't black, if there was so much of it, if he wasn't mute…." Her voice trailed off.

Jarrod put his hand on his mother's shoulder. "I know. As it is, I can't say where I know him from. It's not like I know anyone fitting his description." Jarrod then admitted his real motivation in hiring him. "I'm not saying I think he's a crook or anything like that. It's just…" Jarrod shrugged his shoulders as he glanced up the stairs.

When he didn't finish his sentence, Victoria did it for him. "You feel like he is in need of more help than he's admitting. You're hoping you can help him."

"Yes, I am." Jarrod finished his drink and then admitted he was more tired than he normally would be. "Early mornings and hard work can chase a man to bed earlier than he'd like. I'll see you in the morning." He left the room while Victoria walked down the hallway and entered the Billiard room.

When Victoria entered the room, Ava was sitting on the settee doing some needlework while her mother, an auburn-haired woman by the name of Theresa, was standing out on the veranda. Victoria joined Theresa on the veranda, telling her about Carson as she did so. "I only say something because of his being mute. You've been teaching us sign so we can communicate with Ava, maybe you can convince Mr. Hudson it would help him as well."

Theresa smiled. "I have no problem with doing that, if he wants it."

While the two women talked, Carson was emptying the contents of his saddlebags onto the bed he'd be using the for night. The first thing he did was pick up a small brown book. Opening it up, he sat down at the table that sat in middle of the room and, laying the book down, pulled his pencil out of his pocket and began writing.

I'm back in Stockton. More than one person who know me have seen me. As far as I can tell so far, they do not recognize me for who I really am. No, as far as I can see, they truly believe me to be a mute by the name of Carson Hudson. Let's hope it will be the same with my would-be assassin.

Carson put down the pencil. A part of him felt guilty at not speaking up and telling any of those he'd already seen who he was-guilty about those he would meet 'for the first time' when the dawn came. Remaining silent went against his nature; that had a part of him wanting to tell everyone who he really was-to pull Jarrod in to help him. Only, as far as everyone knew, he was dead-and it had been a year. Those who had cared about him, and loved him, would have gone through so much grieving. If his would be assassin did recognize him-or found out who he was before Carson wanted him to-the man would attempt to kill him again. If he succeeded, Carson did not want anyone to grieve for him a second time. No, as much as he hated it, as much as he wanted to change his mind-Carson promised himself yet again to remain silent in every way possible. He had to find out why his 'friend' had been willing to commit murder-even if it meant leaving those in the area he loved in the dark.