Chapter 9

The moment Jarrod opened the front door to the knock he heard as he was going from breakfast to the library, Laura fell right into his arms. She was so sudden she nearly knocked him down, but he caught her, surprised, and laughed.

"Oh, Jarrod, thank God you're all right!" she blurted out.

Jarrod gave her a kiss on the forehead and laughed, watching Michael and Kate behind her. "I'm fine, I'm fine," he said. "Come on in."

He opened the door further for Michael and Kate to enter. Laura let him go but kept hold of his hand. "I was so worried, especially since none of us got sick."

"I'm fine now," Jarrod said. "Please come in, sit down."

He ushered them toward the parlour, where Victoria and Sarah sat together on the settee. Victoria got up, saying, "Why don't I have Silas bring some coffee in?"

"Thank you, Mrs. Barkley," Michael said.

Victoria left the room. Laura and Kate took the two chairs opposite the settee. "How are you feeling, Sarah?" Laura asked.

"About like Jarrod felt yesterday," Sarah admitted. "Mornings have been a little rough."

"Where's Nick?"

"He stays with me until I'm able to eat something, and then he's off to herd cattle," Sarah said. "How are all of you this morning? No one else felt sick?"

"No," Michael said. "Whatever it was skipped us."

Victoria came back in almost right away, saying, "Silas will bring coffee," and sitting back down beside Sarah.

"Thank heaven it skipped us," Laura said. "I'd hate for us all to be sick at the wedding."

"It's just about here," Victoria said. "Are you ready?"

"Very ready," Michael said, standing behind Laura and touching her shoulder. She touched his hand.

Jarrod stood at the fireplace mantle. "Is San Francisco ready for your honeymoon?" he asked.

"We'll find out," Laura said. Then she said, "Kate is staying here. Jarrod – I hope you'll look in on her once or twice."

"I'd be delighted," Jarrod said – to Kate.

But then Michael said, "I received a telegram after you left last night. Roger Whitman, my best man, will be arriving in Stockton tomorrow."

Jarrod felt that wash of being old come over him – and of having a younger rival. Silas coming in with a tray of coffee and cups interrupted any chance that others would notice his discomfort – and misinterpret it. He didn't feel sick. He hoped he didn't look like he did. In fact, he hoped like he hadn't changed in appearance at all.

Laura said, "We'll have to talk to Roger about all the wedding plans and get his part straight in only two days."

"Have you ever met him, Laura?" Jarrod asked.

"No, I haven't," Laura said.

"Nor have I," Kate added.

Jarrod didn't exactly know what that meant.

Victoria had been pouring coffee and handing it about. She gave Jarrod his cup last. Jarrod took it, took a sip, and said, "I'd like to meet with him too when he gets here, just to make sure we're all on the same page about how the wedding will go."

"Will you be in town tomorrow?" Michael asked.

"In fact, I have a trial starting at about ten o'clock," Jarrod said. "Not a complicated case. I'm hoping it will go to the jury by two and we'll have a verdict by three. When is Mr. Whitman supposed to get in?"

"Noon," Michael said. "We'll entertain him until you're available, if you'll meet us at the hotel when you're through."

We'll entertain him. That was not a comforting thought, but Jarrod knew there was no avoiding the possibility of a rival now – and it made him feel older and stupider for thinking he might even be any kind of real rival to a man closer to Kate in age. Jarrod sipped his coffee and then said, "We'll hope for the best and aim to meet at the hotel bar at about three-thirty, all right?"

"All right," Michael said.

They chatted more about the wedding but after an hour or so, Laura seemed to get restless with the subject. "I think we'd better be going. Kate and I want to try our dresses on to make sure we still fit in them, and I have a seamstress lined up in town just in case we don't. Don't feel like you need to come with us, Jarrod. I'd rather you took it easy so you'll be all right for the wedding."

"I'll be all right for the wedding," Jarrod assured her. "Besides, I have a bit of work here I need to get taken care of. I'll plan on seeing you in town tomorrow at about three-thirty, at the hotel."

Jarrod walked them to the door and saw them off. Kate gave him a smile as she turned to go out. Jarrod closed the door behind them once he was sure they were safely in the buggy they had come in.

He went back into the living room, feeling a little weary. He saw his mother and sister-in-law eyeing him. "Don't worry, I'm fine," he said. "I'm just thinking of the work I have to do, so I will go get to it."

"We'll see you at lunch?" Victoria asked.

"You'll see me at lunch."

"And you'll rest a little this afternoon?"

"And I'll rest a little this afternoon." Jarrod leaned over and kissed his mother on the forehead. "Quit worrying."

He headed off to the library and set his mind on the work he had to do, and he didn't think anymore about Roger Whitman. Tomorrow would help tell that story. Nothing else that would happen today would.

XXXXXX

The next morning at a few minutes before ten, Jarrod sat his client down at the defense table in court. They had met at eight and prepared for this trial since then. Jarrod was a stickler for preparation, even though this trial was not a big one at all. His client, a banker named Carlisle, was accused of one specific misdeed – stealing the money of a depositor named Rimbald. The only evidence the prosecution had was that Rimbald, a large landholder in another part of the county, said he had deposited a draft from another landowner in another part of the state, and the money had not appeared in his account. Jarrod had evidence that the draft had not been honored and returned to Rimbald, but Rimbald said he never got it. It was never honored anywhere that anyone could find, so the landowner who had written it was not out any money, but he refused to give Rimbald another draft, so it was Rimbald who was out money.

Rimbald was a powerful man and got the local district attorney to bring the charges by going through the mayor, but no one except Rimbald thought the case was going to go anywhere, and it didn't. After all the testimony, after all the arguments and jury instructions and deliberation (after lunch – the jurors thought they deserved to eat on the county's dime), the jury came back by three o'clock. Just as Jarrod had predicted. And just as everyone had expected, Carlisle was acquitted, and Rimbald stalked out of the courthouse swearing at the prosecutor.

"Sorry you got stuck with this, Al," Jarrod said to the prosecutor as Rimbald took off alone down the street.

Al Jenson, the prosecutor, said, "All in a day's work, Jarrod."

"It looks like Rimbald is headed for the mayor's office."

Jenson heaved a sigh. "He probably is, but I'm an elected official and the mayor can't throw me out of office. He can only complain to the press, and I have a feeling he's just going to leave that in Mr. Rimbald's lap. See you around, Jarrod."

Jarrod heaved his own sigh, took his briefcase back to his office, and then headed for the Yosemite Hotel, feeling like he was more uneasy about how the rest of this day was going to go than Al Jenson was. He was going to meet this young Roger Whitman. He was probably going to be a good-looking young man, close to Kate's, Laura's and Michael's age, far more reasonable a potential mate for Kate. Jarrod set his resolve, facing the inevitable, and sought his young friends out in the Yosemite bar.

There they were, all four of them, at a table for four. It was so graphic that Jarrod couldn't help feeling like the proverbial fifth wheel. Worse yet, they were all laughing at something the one person he didn't know had said. That would be Roger Whitman – sandy-haired, good-looking, commanding the table, and young.

Jarrod grabbed a chair from another table and pulled it up to the table, deciding at least to have the good grace not to put himself between Kate and Whitman. That would have been far too tacky. He pulled up between Kate and Michael, saying, "Hello, everyone."

"Your trial is over!" Laura said, almost amazed. "You were exactly right about the timing!"

"It was pretty easy to predict," Jarrod said, and then he reached his hand across the table to Roger Whitman. "Jarrod Barkley, Laura's former guardian and the one who's going to escort her to the altar."

"How do you do?" Roger said, smiling. And then he said, "I've been told that before I do anything else upon meeting you, I need to convey greetings from Miguel Escobar."

Jarrod visibly flinched. "Miguel Escobar?" He spoke as the waitress, who knew him too well, brought him a scotch. Jarrod thanked her and took a sip. "Well, I heard you were from Santa Fe and I was going to ask if you knew him."

"I know him well," Roger said. "He's my father-in-law."