CHAPTER EIGHT

Jarrod to the Rescue

Tuesday, November 20, 1877

Jarrod strode out the door, out of the dorm, and across the street to the pub. With each step, his anger grew. He hoped to hell that Eugene didn't backtalk or lie to him. He wasn't sure how much he could control his temper. He again realized his fists were tight and forced himself to open his hands. Just a few more months and that kid would be eighteen. Jarrod shook his head. Not that Eugene was in any way responsible enough to be an adult, but Jarrod would still celebrate the event. It would be his emancipation.

Instead of batwing doors, the pub had open French doors. Jarrod walked in and looked around. At first he didn't see Eugene, but then he looked in the back corner. Gene sat at a table with a full mug of beer in front of him.

Jarrod again had to uncurl his fists. Damn, he should've brought Nick with him. No, Heath. Heath was calmer than Nick. If he'd brought Nick, he'd be pulling Nick off the kid right now.

Jarrod marched towards Eugene's table, his body shivering with rage.

Eugene had a textbook open and was making notes. He stopped and looked up as Jarrod threw a chair that was in his way.

Eugene froze, his eyes large.

Jarrod realized he should've gone for a long walk. Maybe he could've worked off some of this fury that made his body quiver. But it was too late now. He just hoped he didn't get the law called on him. He checked again to make sure his fists were open and took a deep breath.

Eugene stood and ran to Jarrod. He wrapped his arms under his rigid older brother's arms and hugged him tightly. "I'm so glad you're here," he said, his shoulders trembling. Moisture covered Jarrod's shirt. "How did you know I needed you?"

Jarrod didn't know what to say. He just stood there.

"Oh, Pappy, I'm in so much trouble, and I don't know what to do." Eugene pulled back from Jarrod, his eyes shiny even in the dim light.

Jarrod literally felt the anger fleeing his body. First his jaw slackened and then his muscles relaxed. Thoughts of beating the boy flew away as though on wings. Then his chest tightened with concern for this young man. He pulled his kid brother into a bear hug. His voice gentle, he said, "Tell me what's going on, little brother."

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Eugene dropped back down into his chair. "I don't know where to start."

"It's usually best to start at the beginning," Jarrod stated, taking the seat across from him.

A waitress stopped by their table. "Could I get you something, hun?" she asked, looking at Jarrod.

"Coffee?" Jarrod asked. It wasn't much past nine a.m.

"I can do that, but the house rule is that you can stay here as long as you want as long as you buy a drink first."

Jarrod glanced at the untouched beer. Well, that explained that. "Coffee and a shot of scotch."

"I'm sorry, hun, but we don't carry scotch. I can get you whiskey."

"That would be fine. Do you have any food?"

"Not until eleven. But I could toast you a piece of bread."

"Thank you." He glanced at Eugene. "Better bring coffee and toast for my brother as well."

Eugene sent a flirty smile with an eyebrow twitch to the waitress.

Jarrod rolled his eyes.

Eugene watched as the young woman sashayed away, then faced Jarrod. "Just trying to stay in practice."

Jarrod scratched the back of his head. "Okay, then. Now, tell me about your problems."

Eugene sighed. "My roommate, Henry, has had a tough time of it. His father was injured in a mining accident and is paralyzed from the waist down. His mother is busy full-time taking care of his father and the house and the kids and so on. He has six younger siblings. Fortunately, he's brilliant—the smartest person I've ever met, and that's saying a lot since I know you—"

Jarrod gave him a slight chuckle.

"Anyway, he had dropped out of school a few years ago to work two jobs to feed his family. He really wants to be a doctor—he wants to figure out how to help his father—so he applied at Berkeley—and, after he passed all the admission exams with the highest ever score—they gave him a full scholarship—one of the few given. His family was against his coming here because they need the wages he'd make by working. So, he works for eight hours every evening and twelve hours every Saturday and Sunday, and studies every waking minute between. He sends every penny he makes home to his parents."

Jarrod wondered if Eugene might not be smarter than he gave him credit for. He'd already disarmed Jarrod's anger, and now, instead of telling him about stealing girls' undergarments, he was talking about his roommate. But Jarrod had nothing else to do, so he'd hear him out. "Go on."

"Last semester, in Latin class, Henry was accused of cheating on an exam. I can't for the life of me figure out who accused him or why, since we'd studied together and I know Henry knew every damn—darn—word, its spelling, its meaning, its conjugation. Anyway, someone in the class reported that Henry had copied his answers. It turned out that all their answers were exact, although I'm sure it was the other guy who copied him—everyone knows how brilliant Henry is. He couldn't prove his innocence and the proctor couldn't prove his guilt, so the dean put him on probation. As long as nothing else happened, he wouldn't lose his scholarship."

Jarrod tilted his head. "There's not that much creativity in a Latin test. So what if they had the same answers?"

"Because the man with the exact same answers reported to the proctor that Henry had copied from him."

The waitress brought Jarrod's whiskey and two cups of coffee. "The toast will be right out," she stated.

Jarrod gave her a gold coin.

"Thank you so much, hun," she said.

Eugene leaned towards her. "Thanks, Shelly."

She winked at him.

After she sashayed out of sight, Eugene returned his attention to his ever-patient brother. "So then this happened."

Jarrod poured his shot into the coffee and stirred it. "What happened?" He wanted to hear what Eugene would tell him without Eugene knowing he already knew.

Eugene released a long breath. "The resident assistant came to our room and asked if he could search it. We didn't have anything to hide, so of course we told him he could. And he found something in Henry's dresser drawer."

"Something?"

Eugene's cheeks reddened. "Women's undergarments."

Jarrod leaned back. "And how did they get there?"

"We'd surely like to know," Eugene stated. "The dean called Henry into his office and accused him of stealing them. Henry denied it, of course, but the dean said that he'd be expelled and his scholarship permanently revoked." He swallowed hard. "Henry was so upset when he came back. I knew he hadn't taken them! The man has no time to do something like that—and it's not something he'd do anyway."

"So you said you'd stolen them."

Eugene's eyes grew large. "How did you know that?"

Jarrod tossed the letter from the dean onto the table. "I spoke to the dean an hour ago."

Eugene looked up and met Jarrod's eyes. "So you already knew?"

"That part of the story. What else am I missing?"

"I mean, I didn't want to be expelled either, but at least it wouldn't be as catastrophic for me as it would be for Henry. This is the only chance he has to make something of himself." Eugene shrugged. "So now I'm trying to figure out how we can prove Henry was set up. I have a suspicion of who did it, but I can't prove it."

Jarrod nodded at the book open in front of Eugene. "Looking for the answers in your anatomy books?"

"No. I'm just trying to keep up with my work so once we figure out and prove who did it and I get reinstated, I can still pass this semester."

"What do you have figured out?"

Eugene opened a notebook and showed Jarrod a list of things they knew and a list of things they needed to know.

"So you don't know how they knew the missing garments were in your room?"

"No." Eugene scowled. "I asked the dean, and he said he couldn't reveal that information to me."

Jarrod smiled. "He revealed it to me."

Eugene stared at Jarrod. "He did?"

"Well, he gave me the folder with all the paperwork and notes in it, and I looked at the details." He leaned back. "Do you have any inkling as to who might want to do this to you or Henry?"

"Geoffrey Fulton and Hiram Hickman. We also think they were the ones who said Henry cheated. They were both in that Latin class and they weren't doing well."

"Is that the only reason you think they did it?"

Eugene took in a breath. "I know it wouldn't stand up in court, but they just seem to make it their mission in life to make Henry's life as miserable as possible. They are constantly doing little things to annoy him and trying to trip him and making fun of him. He only has two shirts, and they cut holes in one of them during class. We're also pretty sure they stole a paper he wrote early this semester, although we couldn't prove it because we weren't able to see the papers that were turned in. Fortunately, Henry never forgets anything and was able to write the entire paper after he got in from work at midnight. It took him all night, but he did it."

Jarrod nodded. "It was Hiram Hickman who reported he saw someone put the lingerie in your room."

Eugene jumped out of his chair. "I knew it!"

The waitress chose that time to place a plate of toast in front of each of them.

"Thanks, Shelly," Eugene said with a wink.

"I get off at six today, sugar," she said with a smile.

Eugene glanced at Jarrod. "I doubt I can stop by then."

She nodded, and Euguene watched as her hips swayed with each step she took back to the bar.

Despite Jarrod's half-amused, half-irritated expression, Eugene waited until she was out of sight, then jumped up. "C'mon! We have to go see the dean."

"Hold on," Jarrod stated, slathering some butter on the toast. "Before we see the dean, we need to be able to present our case so he's willing to allow us to see the folder on the cheating incident. We need to make a list of what information we know and what information we need to know, and then we need to gather as much of that information as we can." He took a bite of toast, chewed it, and swallowed it down with the spiked coffee.

"Speaking of information, who's undergarments are those supposed to be?" Eugene asked.

Jarrod considered whether he should reveal that information. "You know you can't let anyone else know, right? It could be devastating to the young ladies involved."

Eugene nodded.

"Martha Littleton and Mary Margaret Johnson."

"Mar-Mar and Mary-Mar? No way!" Eugene shook his head. "That proves it right there. I would never have to steal their undergarments."

Jarrod's forehead wrinkled.

"If I wanted their undergarments, I'd just ask and they'd hand 'em over."

Jarrod stared at his youngest brother. He already knew Eugene was a flirt. But this? Jarrod cleared his throat. "I don't think that's something you should be bragging about—or repeating."

"But if that could prove—"

Jarrod held up a hand. "And then your lady friends would be getting expelled. No, you shouldn't mention that to anyone for any reason." He took a sip of coffee. "In fact, you shouldn't even admit to knowing that."

"What if they voluntarily said that to the dean?" Eugene asked.

"Gene, I don't think you realize something. Women are at an extreme disadvantage at colleges and universities. If you—or they—said anything that might taint their reputations, they could be expelled just for suspicion of lewd and licentious activities."

Eugene frowned. "Guess I better not say anything then."

Jarrod rolled his eyes.

"But," Eugene stated. "I'm sure Mar-Mar and Mary-Mar would tell the dean anything I asked them to. Maybe they could say—"

"Gene!" Jarrod scowled. "We want to find the truth. Not just complicate things with more lies."

Eugene looked back up at his oldest brother, a faint smile playing at his lips. "So I probably shouldn't be revealing the things I know about the other women enrolled in this university?"

"No, Eugene, you should not. Maybe you should spend more time studying and less time chasing after women."

Eugene's smile erupted. "I don't have to chase. They chase me."

Jarrod scratched his head. "Let's stay focused on resolving this problem. We have one huge issue we need to overcome."

"What's that?"

"Your signed confession."

Eugene's face dropped. "I didn't know what else to do!"

"I know, but the fact that you orally confessed and then signed a confession doesn't bode well." Jarrod slowly chewed another bite of toast. "The only way we can probably fight it is to explain your thought process in confessing." He shrugged. "Which still doesn't give us too much of a chance. After all, you're now telling them you not only lied but then falsely signed a legal document." Jarrod glanced up at his brother. "That doesn't make it likely they will believe much of what you say."

"What can we do?"

"We can try to find witnesses who saw what happened." Jarrod shrugged. "Also, let me see the notes you have there. Maybe between the two of us, we can figure out some other holes in the accusation." He rubbed his chin. "We also need to get our hands—legally, of course—on the folder for the cheating incidence. If they kept the tests in the folder as they should have, we can compare handwriting. Also, we could get the professor of that class to state why he believed Hickman—if Hickman was indeed the accuser from that class—over Henry."

"We could start by going to the girls' dorm and asking if any of them saw anything."

Jarrod shut his eyes and sighed deeply. "We can do that. But first, we have a lot of other work to do, and it would help if you'd think about that instead of girls." He took Eugene's notebook and wrote, "Find character witnesses."

Eugene leaned over the table to see what he wrote. "Any of the girls will—"

"Forget the blasted girls, Eugene. Is there anyone—a professor, a minister, anyone well respected—who can vouch for you? Someone who still thinks you're a responsible, honorable young man?"

"You're respected," Eugene stated. "You can vouch for me."

"Do you know why I'm respected?" Jarrod asked.

"Kind of."

"I'm respected because I tell the truth and I never bend it. And I damn well hope you've learned something about being truthful, because once you lie, you ruin your reputation and you'll never be believed again."

"But you can still vouch for me, right?"

"I know you too well," Jarrod growled. "I suggest you find someone who doesn't."

Eugene met Jarrod's eyes. He grinned, making him appear younger than his seventeen years. "I'm glad you're here, Pappy."

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