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Ryder.”
    “Give me a minute.”
    Jared watched him retreat into his tiny cabin. He was probably making a quick call to Samuel Glover, the chief butler and manager of the house-keeping staff to confirm Tara’s employment.
    He put his hands in his pockets as he shuffled a pebble at his feet, waiting patiently for the guard to give him the go-ahead. Samuel Glover knew him well-enough to know he was far from any threat to the Callum family. He only wanted his sister off the Callum property. He was darned if any of his family would slave for a hog or a dog.
    His mind swept through an image of the elderly butler, giving his approval in that familiar firm but polite tone. Samuel Glover could very possibly be in his sixties with impeccable manners and always buttoned to his neck in a more impeccable suit. He’d never had a problem with Samuel Glover. But he was also quite aware of the differing opinion Samuel carried about his sister working in the governor’s house. He always was expressing it more freely to him than Jared felt comfortable.
    “Mr. Ryder?” the guard stepped out of the cabin. “You’re cleared to pass through. Mr. Glover will see you in his office. I’m told you know the way?”
    Jared winced inside. “Yes, I do. Thanks,” he gave him a short wave and then trudged further up the driveway.
    The green luscious lawns were immaculately groomed; a far cry from the world he had come from. Peach trees laden with fruit covered the hill side with beautiful flowers encircling the base of its trunks. The breeze was cool and smelt of fresh pine. In the distance, he noticed the small pine forest bordering the horizon.
    The house loomed like a large white castle on the crest of the hill, its foyer double doors marking the end of the driveway. But those doors were meant to greet the finer gentry of society. He took the usual turn to the side and walked round to the back of the house and through the kitchen.
    The kitchen staff rattled busily as they prepared the next sumptuous Callum meal. The stainless steel bench was dusted with flour while one of them kneaded and punched at his ball of dough.
    “ John,” he greeted the head chef.
    The chef looked up at him, his toque still remarkably balanced on his head despite the entire rigor with which he handled his dough.
    “What are you doing here, Jared? Come to get Tara?” the cook asked him back, not at all surprised to see him appear so suddenly in his kitchen. “We were betting on how long it would take for you to get here?” He grinned at his staff.
    “Is Sam in his office?” Jared asked, trying to ignore their jibing.
    “He should be. Now that he knows you’re here,” the chef smirked, dusting off some stray flour from his double breasted jacket.
    He left them laughing behind him as he headed into the lavish spacious corridor of the building. He had been here only a handful of times but he was already strangely abreast with the plan of the house. It had always been like that for Jared. He never did put much effort into learning anything. Instead, his skills had come naturally to him, such as his archery lessons from his father.
    He stood outside the wooden door across him. He pulled in a deep breath before knocking onto it. He hated confrontations; particularly with Samuel Glover who always managed to make him look like a fool. He’d almost always leave his office feeling twice the idiot than he’d have felt when he walked into it.
    The door swung open. “Jared,” the butler said in his deep, baritone voice. “Come on in. The guard told me you were here.”
    “Is Tara here?” Jared asked, as he entered it.
    “No,” the butler replied flatly, moving lithely around his table. “Why don’t you sit down for a minute?”
    “I’m here for Tara. If you don’t mind letting her know that I’m here, I’ll grab her and get out of your way.”
    Sam studied him thoughtfully and then settled himself into his chair. “Sit down, Jared.”
    Jared stood