Chapter Five
Zella woke up groggy and achy with the sun streaming through the window. She remembered the whiskey and the anger of the night before. She poured a glass of water from the nightstand and looked over at Jack's side of the bed; it wasn't slept in.
She put on her quilted robe and went into their small living room. Jack was at the table working on the books.
"Morning darling," as he stood to kiss her.
She accepted the kiss closing one eye and shivering, "How drunk did I get?"
"Not drunk enough for all this conundrum we find ourselves in."
"Conundrum? What the heck? When did we get a conundrum?"
"Bull sh—and it stinks to high heaven."
"That I understand."
He reached over to her cheek and touched it with his finger, "You have an eyelash."
She took a deep breath and smiled deeply. She nuzzled into his arms, "That was when I knew I loved you, Jack Darby. Or at least lusted after you. You touched my cheek and picked off the lash. You kissed my cheek and gave me the key to your room. Called it the key to your heart."
"And you unlocked my room and my heart that night. And yep, I am going to say it, forever. You are the only woman I ever gave my word to. EVER. As long as we both shall live. Jack Darby is a man of his word."
"I do believe you, Jack. I do. It's just I can't stand the idea of another woman claiming to be your wife. Being Mrs. Jack Darby has made me the happiest woman in the world. I just want to pull that woman's hair out-kick her ass straight out of town."
"Zella, you have made me just as happy. Exasperated and exhausted but happy."
She swatted him playfully; he pulled her closer and deeply kissed her.
"Let's go renew those wedding vows, sweetheart. Remind me of that night above the High-and-Low."
She smiled seductively, "I might need some reminders."
"I think we can figure it out—-together." as he took her back into the bedroom.
"At least I can keep occupied while Jarrod makes his move. What a pleasant diversion with my beloved."
—&—-
Jarrod went back to his room after acquiring the room next door for Rosemary. He had a spring to his step. He felt he had taken some of the wind out of Dorothy and Phil's sails—and he would have time with his wife tonight.
He opened the door to find Tessa reading to Rosemary. The child was so active and precocious but would sit for hours being read to and memorizing every world. They acknowledged him with wide smiles which melted his heart. He kissed them both.
"I got the room next door. That noisy man from last night checked out,"
Tessa blushed and Jarrod winked. Her stomach dropped.
"Let's go to the park across town. By the river. Our little missy has been cooped up too long. And I see that in her mother's eyes too."
"Thank you, Jarrod. What would do without you?"
He kissed her cheek, "Well you would be standing up quite a bit with your grandmother's pillow at bay."
She swatted him as she grabbed her hat, "Let's go to the park."
He patted her bottom as they left through the door, "Just checking on my handiwork."
She winked back at him and whispered, "Might want to check on me later too."
His eyes grew wider and he whispered back, "You can count on it, Mrs. Barkley."
—-&—-
Dorothy and Phil Archer waited in the parlor as the maid went to get Matt Finn.
"Mr. Archer? Is Jarrod Barkley related to Jack? I swear it seemed like they were two peas in a pod. He's older and just as handsome—-and cunning like a fox. Is it possible he is a father or uncle to Jack? Looks really young to be that, though."
Phil sighed, "No, Dorothy. I have known Jarrod all my life. He is only about ten years older than your uh, uh husband. The Barkleys own one of the biggest spreads in California. They lord it over the rest of us. Jarrod graduated at the top of the class at law school. His name opened doors there too."
Dorothy rolled her eyes behind his back, "Hardly, I would say. I would say, he earned the top of his class after that oration—and I got the bottom. Wonder if Barkley is married? I might ought to change my tack if this Finn fellow doesn't pay up."
"Do you think Jarrod's father ever visited St. Louis?"
"It's possible and he has one illegitimate brother that way already. But I doubt Tom has anything to do with this."
"Why?"
"Audra and the whelp, Heath looks just like Tom Barkley. Blonde. Eugene too. My pa said Tom and Jim Barkley looked like Swedes sometimes cutting timber for land. Clearing the land. Victoria Barkley according to him was raven-haired in her youth—when she came to the Valley with him. Nick and Jarrod favor her in colouring. And I highly doubt she had another child in St. Louis after Nick. I did do the math and she would have been in the Valley that year. Year of the mine collapse #34. I just went through the old papers when I heard about Jack Darby's resemblance. I am always eagle-eyed when it comes to the Barkleys."
"Oh," she nodded, "He's smarter than I thought. Or is just jealous of the Barkleys."
She walked around the room observing the fine possessions. Her eyes settled on an old-fashioned painting of a couple. The young maid wore a seed pearl tiara and a lace dress with a quite serious, handsome young man seated next to her.
Matthew Finn walked into the room. The tall, handsome Swede wore work trousers and a plaid shirt. He was the most prominent wheat farmer in the state and married to the ex-mayor's sister. He had decided to run for the open seat of his imprisoned brother-in-law, and as head of the regulators—-no one would dare challenge him.
Except for that upstart, Jack Darby, and his fancy Stockton lawyer. He had decided to keep up the bigamy ruse to discredit Zella's owner. He believed gambling was straight from the bowels of Hell. A friend mentioned an attorney with a grudge against Barkley, and he engaged his services. Surely, indeed they were here to tell him Darby dropped out of the race just like he planned.
"Welcome guests. I am pleased to make your acquaintance. Our correspondence leaves much to the imagination. You, my dear are lovely, lovely as a meadow in spring—."
Dorothy smiled at his flattery. Phil rolled his eyes behind their backs.
"Mr. Archer? Matthias Finn."
"Good to meet you, sir. Your representative was very clear about your need to win the election."
"Yes. It is the dream of mine—-the Lord's work of cleaning up Modesto. Running out men like Jack Darby and his wife who run gambling parlors of iniquity. Opium dens springing up. Dirty Chinese pouring in like locusts. Good Christian families are afraid for their safety after sundown. Regulators have to provide security for our fair city. So close to the incorporation of Modesto. Almost a thousand people without an honest leader."
He stopped himself sheepishly, "Sorry I should save that for the campaign stump. Do we have a solution to our mutual problem?"
Phil replied, "No—not yet. Miss Darby and I met with Jarrod Barkley this morning. He is calling our bluff. Demanding us to produce the bigamy charges."
"Didn't my brother-in-law have a warrant? Evidence?"
"Yes he did but it didn't stand up to the Pinkertons or the St Louis magistrate. Wasn't informed that Barkley did his research last October at the first arrest. He just never told anyone. Just like Jarrod to hold his cards close. The warrant was null and void without a license. And our friend here doesn't have one? "
"I lost it in a quick move; I have a copy a friend did—-. I have the warrant I swore out if that helps."
"It does my dear but we can't take this into the legal system. Barkley will destroy you. Didn't you hear defamation of character? He could win." Phil added.
Matthias eyed the pair, "So what do I do?"
Phil smiled a little,'" Let me tell you about a gubernatorial candidate we had once. Did a lot of damage to the Barkleys and would have beaten them if he hadn't gotten too cocky. Put things down in writing that Jarrod could challenge in a libel suit and he lost his marbles trying to blow up the town hall."
They both stared at him aghast at the last part.
Phil chuckled, "We won't blow anything up but we will use his technique. Nothing in writing. Hit and run. Little innuendos around town. Unanswered questions. Make people believe it's true because they like to think poorly of the privileged."
The thought crossed his mind from his conscience, "Pot calling the kettle black."
Dorothy asked about the lady in the small tiara, "Family?"
"Yes, my grandparents. They raised me. My grandmother was a saint."