A Sensible Arrangement (19 page)

“Not at all. Marty understands the situation. Unfortunately, however, we had a bit of an incident the other day. A man came to the house and threatened Miss Chesterfield in order to learn the whereabouts of a packet of papers her father should have been carrying the night of his death.”

Morgan frowned. “What papers?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

“The man didn't say what he wanted?”

Jake shook his head. “Only that they were in a bank-sealed envelope. A large envelope. It should have been in the satchel
that was in Mr. Chesterfield's possession, and apparently this man knew that it was missing. I wondered if you might know what was in that envelope that made it worth killing for.”

For several moments Morgan said nothing. He looked as if he were trying to remember. Finally he shook his head. “I'm really not at liberty to tell you the details.”

“So you do know what was in it?”

“I do, but very few others have been told.” He looked at Jake and seemed reluctant to share the information. “We were afraid of making a public scene. We didn't need negative stories to spread regarding the bank's security.”

Jake could understand that, given the problems the economy was already starting to see in 1892. “So might you enlighten me? After all, my family and home seem to be under some threat.”

“And your maid has no idea of what the man was talking about?” Morgan asked.

“None. She came to our employ with virtually nothing. If there were an envelope amidst the things she and her father owned, it was either destroyed or lost. All of their things were auctioned off to pay for the funeral and her medical expenses. Now, I'd like to know what this man is after.”

“I suppose you're entitled.” Morgan drew a deep breath and laced his fingers together. “It was full of gold certificates—worth a small fortune.”

Jake startled at this news. “Why in the world was he carrying something as valuable as that?”

Morgan shrugged. “It was the way we handled it. We put on a fussy show of guarded couriers for those who might think to rob us, while sending the real goods with no escort whatsoever. It worked quite well, and we shipped money,
certificates, stocks, and even some jewelry that way. In fact, Chesterfield was the first man we've ever lost.”

“Let me get this straight: You gave Chesterfield an envelope with a fortune in gold certificates to be delivered as if it were nothing more important than business correspondence?”

“Exactly.”

“And did he know what he was carrying?”

“Not to my knowledge. Oh, I mean he would have known there was value to the papers. He always knew that any delivery we entrusted to him was of vital importance. He was paid well, however. As for his knowing the contents . . . well . . . I can't imagine that he did. I certainly wouldn't have told him. There was no need.”

“But gold certificates were included in his satchel that night, and someone knew they were supposed to be there.”

“I don't know how they could have.” Morgan shook his head. “There were only a couple of us privy to the information.”

“Well, somebody talked,” Jake said.

Marty dreaded opening the letter in her hand. Either Hannah had mailed it before Marty's missive arrived telling her about Jake and the marriage, or she'd hastily posted it after hearing the news. Either way, Marty wasn't in any hurry to discover what was within.

She thought to distract herself with a nice quiet lunch alone, but after studying the thin slices of rare roast beef on her plate, she sighed. “I might as well read it. My mind won't rest until I do.”

Pulling the envelope from her pocket, Marty ran her dinner knife under the seal along the top to open it. The missive
was short—one page. Marty drew a deep breath and perused the lines.

My dear sister,

How wonderful for you to have found love again. I'm surprised that you worried I would think badly of your choice. I've long hoped that you could find another man to love. You are much too young to be a widow. Perhaps now you will have a family of your own and know the happiness of motherhood, as well.

Please know that William and I are praying for you and that we are so very happy for you and Jake. You have made him sound like such a wonderful man, and I look forward to the day we can meet face-to-face. William said we could use a banker in the family.

I know that you never planned to remarry after Thomas, but now that you have, I pray you will be happy. I was delighted to read that you are attending church once again, and I pray, too, that this new adventure in life will allow you to once again draw close to God.

Faithfully yours,
Hannah

Marty let out the breath she'd been holding. Hannah didn't mind, didn't protest the matter in the least. It was a surprise—her sister had carefully tried to manage Marty's choices for most of her life. The announcement of her traveling to Colorado had completely upset that tradition, and Marty had been certain her news would cause Hannah a fit of apoplexy.

“Thank goodness that's done with.” Marty folded the letter and put it back in her pocket.

She tried to think of what she should do next. She wanted to get the ranch matter settled and figured the best thing to do would be to write immediately to her sister and suggest that Will have the papers drawn up for her to deed the place back to him. Of course, Marty was married now and had no way of knowing if she'd need her husband's permission to conduct business. Laws were often funny about that, and married women didn't have the same rights that widowed women did. Perhaps she should seek the advice of a lawyer.

“But how do I go about that without Jake knowing what I'm doing?”

Jake noticed Marty's good mood that evening. She seemed more carefree and lighthearted than he'd ever known her to be. He had no idea what had caused the change, but he was glad for it. He thought back to his conversation with Mr. Morgan and wondered if he should spoil her happiness with the details of what he'd learned. Deciding against it for the time being, Jake chose instead to enjoy a quiet evening reading while Marty worked on some project of her own.

The clock chimed the hour, and Jake yawned. He stole a glance at his wife, who'd been quietly sewing. With her head bent over the garment, she looked completely content. Marty loved keeping busy, and he understood that.

She seemed to sense his gaze and looked up. Smiling, she rolled her shoulders. “I suppose it's time for bed. I tend to get caught up in what I'm doing.”

“What exactly are you doing?”

“Making a pinafore. It's for one of the orphans. I wanted to do something more for them, and I figured I could sew as well as the next woman.”

“Probably better, given your new circle of friends.” He watched her carefully tuck the sewing back into a basket by the chair. “You truly enjoy working with the orphans, don't you?”

“I do,” Marty replied. “They are so . . . well . . . they seem to thrive on my affection and attention. God knows they don't get much. The workers do their best, but it isn't the same as having a family.”

“No, I'm sure it isn't.”

“Speaking of family, I had a very nice letter from my sister.” Marty reached into her pocket and handed it over to him. “I finally told her about us.”

“You did?” Jake opened the letter and scanned the lines. He felt his chest tighten at the comment about Marty becoming a mother. The idea of having children with Marty had started to consume his thoughts more often than he liked to admit.

“She says you made me sound like a wonderful man,” Jake commented, concluding the letter. “Whatever did you say to cause that kind of response?”

Marty gave a light laugh and got to her feet. Jake quickly followed suit. He handed her back the letter and waited for her to respond. For a very long moment all they did was gaze into each other's eyes, however. Jake longed to take her in his arms, but he forced himself to stand completely still.

Finally Marty replied. “I told her you were good to me—that you were generous and kind. I told her that I was happy and wanted her to be happy for me.”

“And are you happy, Marty?” He was barely able to voice the words.

She smiled, and it warmed his heart in a way he'd never known. Neither Josephine nor Deborah had made him feel this way.

“Of course I'm happy. Especially now that my sister knows about our marriage and approves.”

“Her approval was that important?”

She shrugged. “I suppose it was. Family has always been important to me. I guess I didn't make it seem that way, running off as I did without letting them know. I just wanted to make my own choices and be responsible for my life.”

Her gaze held his. Jake wanted so much to tell her how he felt—how she had changed his mind about love. How he longed to alter their arrangement and start anew with a real marriage.

“I want to make you happy, Marty. I guess I want your approval, as well,” he finally managed to whisper.

She surprised him by reaching up to touch his cheek. “You are an amazing man, Jake, and you do have my approval. I think together . . . we can be very happy.”

He put his hand over hers. “I think so, too.”

Marty finished making her second pinafore when Brighton appeared with a large box. “This just arrived for you, madam,” he announced.

“Goodness, what is it?”

“I do not know.” He placed the box on a small table. “Would you like me to open it?”

Putting her sewing aside, Marty nodded. “Please.” She got to her feet and joined him.

Brighton opened the box, revealing a dozen red roses. The fragrance wafted through the air, and Marty inhaled the sweet aroma. She hadn't been given roses since long before Thomas's death.

“They're beautiful,” she murmured, gently touching one of the blossoms.

“There is a card, madam.” Brighton reached in and pulled it from among the flowers. He handed it to Marty.

Marty opened the card.
To my
wife. Thank you for the trust you've placed in
me. You make my life so much better. Affectionately, your
husband.

The sentiment surprised and disturbed Marty. Already
uncertain and confused by her own feelings for Jake, she didn't need this to further complicate matters.

But it's
not such a complication if he feels the same way,
is it? Should I be afraid of falling in love
with a man who clearly feels something for me?

“Would you like me to have Mrs. Landry arrange them in a vase?” Brighton asked.

Marty nodded. “Yes, please do.”

“Very good, madam.” He took up the box, leaving Marty with the note.

In the hallway he apparently ran into Mrs. Landry, because Marty could hear the two begin to pick at each other.

Mrs. Landry commented in a rather loud voice, “I know very well how to arrange flowers, you ninny. Don't be trying to tell me how to do my job.”

Marty looked down at the card again and frowned. Why was this happening now? And why did it bother her as much as it did? Surely she should feel a sense of relief that the man she'd married was a good match—that they both enjoyed each other's company and had found some semblance of happiness in the aftermath of losing their prior mates.

So
why do I feel so uncomfortable?

Marty tucked the card into her sewing box and moved back to her work. She tried to calm her mind, telling herself it was a kind gesture, nothing more. But there had been moments of tenderness lately that stirred her heart. . . .

Jake had made it clear in his letters prior to their marriage that he didn't want a romance. Had he changed his mind? Had she changed hers?

Marty had to admit the aching in her heart was evidence that something was afoot. She had thought herself incapa
ble of loving again—Thomas had been the love of her life. Wouldn't it be a betrayal to his memory if she were to give her heart to another?

Folding the pinafore carefully, Marty tried to reason through her feelings. Thomas was dead. There was no one who could bring him back. Thomas himself would have been the first one to tell her to be happy—to find something in life she could enjoy and live for. He would have wanted her to remarry and have children.

“I saw the flowers,” Alice said, entering the small sitting room. “They're beautiful.”

“Jake . . . Mr. Wythe sent them,” Marty replied.

Alice looked at her for a moment. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Why do you ask?”

“You seem troubled. I just wondered, given your . . . arrangement . . . if it made matters difficult for you.”

Marty shrugged. “I've been asking myself the same thing, to tell you the truth.” She put the pinafore into her sewing basket and frowned. “I never figured to have these feelings again, and now that I do, I have to say they're making me most uncomfortable.”

“What feelings are those?” Alice asked in her innocent way.

Marty met her maid's gaze. The girl was young enough to have been Marty's daughter. Her blond hair even resembled Marty's own thick tresses. For reasons Marty couldn't even begin to put into words, Alice touched a special place in her heart.

“I suppose . . . love,” Marty finally answered. “I'd hardened my heart against it until I came here. Then I found myself moved by you and your plight, touched by the orphans and theirs, and . . .”

“And you're falling in love with your husband?” Alice dared to ask.

Marty wasn't yet ready to admit that idea aloud. “I don't know.”

Alice smiled. “I think you do, and that's the problem. You just don't know how to face the truth.”

Marty heard male voices coming from the hallway and glanced at the clock. It was only half past two. Had Alice's tormenter returned? She looked to Alice, who seemed to wonder the same thing—if the look on her face was any indication.

“Don't worry,” Marty said. “You're safe.”

Jake marched into the room with an expression of grave concern. “There's been an unexpected board meeting called at the bank this afternoon, and I've been asked to attend. I expect it will run well into the evening, and I wanted to let you know.”

“What's wrong?” Marty questioned. The tone of his voice and his countenance were most severe.

“The president has called for an emergency session of Congress. He hopes to repeal the Sherman Silver Purchase Act. It won't bode well for anyone, but especially not this state. We rely heavily on silver holding its value, and this will change everything.”

“Is it really that bad?” Just last week she'd dined at one of Denver's finest homes, and the wealth there flowed like an undammed river.

He stopped in front of Marty. “It is. Colorado is responsible for over 60 percent of this country's silver. It's not right that the president should imagine silver is the culprit for all our financial woes, but apparently he does. This is only going to make matters worse, the way I see it.”

Marty longed to offer him comfort. “I'll wait up to talk
with you. Perhaps once you know more about it, things won't seem so bad.”

“It'll probably be late. You might as well go to bed.”

“I don't mind waiting,” she said softly. “I'm sure it will be important for our future.”

He nodded. “I'm afraid it's going to completely alter the future of a great many folks.”

Marty had never heard him sound so grave. She knew at one time she would have encouraged solace with prayer. A sparking in her heart told her she should again suggest such recourse, but bitterness quickly snuffed out the ember. Why ask God for help? If He cared, wouldn't He have already offered His protection?

Another thought came to mind. “Should I send someone with a meal for you and the others?”

Jake smiled. “I doubt anyone else has thought of that.”

“I could have Cook put together some sandwiches and cookies. Food that would be easy to eat without benefit of table service.”

“That sounds like a grand idea, Marty. Thank you. Why don't you send Samson over with it at about six?”

“That will give us plenty of time to arrange it,” Marty replied, smiling. She was glad to be able to do something to make things easier for him. “Try not to worry,” she added. “These things have a way of working out.”

“I hope so. God knows this isn't going to be pleasant for anyone. We may well watch the collapse of our entire country's financial foundation.”

The evening passed in relative silence. Alice helped Marty dress for bed early.

“Are you sure you don't want me to keep you company for a while?” Alice asked.

Marty shook her head. “No, go enjoy an evening to yourself. You work hard, and I appreciate all that you do. Besides, I'm just going to sit here and read.”

“I think I'll do the same,” Alice told her. “It'll be nice to just have the time to myself.” She picked up the rest of Marty's clothes and smiled. “I'll take these to the laundry first. Good night.”

“Good night.”

The day had been warm, so Marty opened one of her bedroom windows and breathed deeply of the night air. She could smell the scent of flowering trees and marveled at the slight chill to the air. The weather here was so different. The day could be hot and dry, then often in the afternoon a brief rain would come down from the mountains and by night the air would be cool. She marveled at the glow of electric lighting coming from the neighboring houses. Folks in this elite community wouldn't know how to function without their wealth. If things were as bad as Jake thought, Marty couldn't help but wonder what would happen to these people.

Of course, she knew that the rich usually had contingencies for such things. They wouldn't suffer as much as those poor souls who relied on the generosity of the wealthy.

Rubbing her arms, Marty closed the window again and took up her book. She heard the large grandfather clock chime the hour. Nine o'clock. And still there was no sign of Jake. Marty wondered how the meeting was going—what it would mean for them.

She couldn't help but think of the ranch. She knew that
Jake had put aside money for what he hoped would be his future purchase of a spread in Texas. She knew that this tragedy could prevent that from ever happening. Maybe that was the answer to her problems.

Am I hopelessly greedy in wanting
things my own way? Is it wrong to hope that
the financial situation will keep us right here in Denver
?

Marty had read nearly half of her book by the time she heard someone at the door to Jake's bedroom. She listened and waited. She'd left both of her dressing room doors open wide in hopes that he would come and tell her all about the meeting. Voices were soon evident.

“I won't need anything, Brighton. Go ahead and retire. I'm sure that anything I have to see to can wait until morning.”

“Very good, sir.”

Marty heard the exchange and noted the weariness in her husband's voice. Maybe it would be better if they didn't speak. Maybe the news would be so bad that she'd be unable to sleep.

But maybe
if I share the load with him, Jake will rest
better.
Given her guilt over the ranch, Marty wanted to push aside her own selfish needs and reach out to Jake.

“Marty?” Jake called from the dressing room.

“I'm in here. Please join me,” she called back. She put the book away, then adjusted her robe to make certain she wasn't being immodest.

Jake entered the room in a state of undress. His tie was gone and shirt unbuttoned partway but still tucked into his trousers. He'd shed his shoes, coat, and vest and looked more tired than Marty had ever seen him. It gave Marty a start. He looked far more like a Texas cowboy than a Colorado banker.

He plopped into one of the wingback chairs by the fireplace and began to rub his neck.

“Let me,” Marty said, pushing his hands aside. “I'm pretty good at this. Years of milking and toting gave me strong hands.” She began to knead his tight muscles.

“Oh, that feels so good. Thank you.” For several minutes he said nothing more. Marty remained silent, as well. It was one of the most intimate moments she could recall having with him. They were like an old married couple at the end of a busy day. The thought made her smile.

Finally, after nearly ten minutes had passed, Jake stilled her hands and motioned her to sit. “The news is better taken sitting down.”

“That bad—already?”

He nodded. “They fully expect that hundreds of banks will close almost overnight in anticipation of what's to come. Ours isn't one of them—at least not yet. We're strong enough to survive for a time, but there's no way of knowing how long that will last. Morgan has in mind to close a couple of the branches and consolidate all his efforts into just a few banks. Ours would be one of them, and he wants me to oversee the reorganization.”

“So you won't lose your position?”

“Not yet. But who knows what will happen in the months to come. There's no way of estimating just how bad this is going to get, Marty. Most of the silver mines are going to close. The value of silver has dropped already. This will send property values sliding. I feel bad because I promised you pleasantries and a life of ease, and now this is going to change everything. We're going to have to let some of the staff go and tighten our belts.”

“That's all right. We can manage.” She tried to not think of what Alice might do. The poor girl needed protection, as well as a job. Perhaps she could send her to Hannah.

“I figure we'll keep Samson, Brighton, Mrs. Landry, and Alice for now. Oh, and Mrs. Standish. Unfortunately, the others will have to go.”

“If need be, Jake, I'm a pretty fair cook and I know perfectly well how to care for horses and hitch my own carriage, although I'd hate to lose Samson. I can also wash clothes and clean house. I am, as you have always said, quite capable.”

Jake nodded. “You've proven that again and again. You know how to handle yourself and you don't need anyone.”