A Sensible Arrangement (21 page)

But the women had been so calloused and unfeeling. Maybe it was their fear of change that made them so, but to Marty, they bordered on cruel. She thought of all the orphans in the city—would the elite put them on a train and rid their precious Denver of their presence, as well?

I won't apologize. For once I did speak the
truth, and they didn't want to hear it. They
were much too worried about their town being dirtied with
the poor and needy. And they call themselves Christians!
How she seethed. It made her want to march right over to the Morgans and give them both a piece of her mind.

It was past eight before she heard the carriage arrive with Jake. She panicked. What if he was livid over her actions? What if she'd ruined everything? Marty began to pace in
the sitting room. Jake cared for her, but he also cared about keeping his position at the bank.

It wasn't long before she heard Brighton greet her husband at the front door. There was a quick exchange that she couldn't quite hear, and then footsteps sounded on the hardwood floor outside the sitting room pocket doors.

The doors slid back, and Jake walked wearily into the room. Marty could see he was exhausted. She had arranged a very simple dinner for them that evening and hoped he wouldn't even feel the need to change his clothes.

“You look spent,” she said. “Why don't you sit here and I'll rub your shoulders.”

He shook his head. “I'd rather eat. I'm famished.”

“I waited dinner for you. It's simple fare, so you needn't redress. It's just you and me and we could even take it upstairs if you'd like.”

“No, that's all right. We can eat in the dining room, but I will take you up on the suggestion of not changing. I doubt I'd have the energy to return if I climbed those stairs.”

She smiled. “I'll let Mrs. Landry know.” She pulled the cord and waited until the housekeeper appeared. “Mrs. Landry, we'll have dinner in the dining room—right away, please.”

The housekeeper smiled. “I figured as much. Well, not the exact location, but I had Cook get to it when I heard Mr. Wythe's carriage.”

“Thank you. We'll be right in,” Marty said. “Oh, and please have Brighton ready a hot bath for my husband. I'm sure he'll need to soak a bit after he eats.” She looked to Jake, who smiled in spite of his exhaustion. “What are you smiling about?”

“You. The way you're taking care of me. Feels good. You're a real asset, Marty.”

She thought of the way she'd acted at the garden party. “You might not be inclined to say so after you hear about my day,” she said in as nonchalant a manner as she could manage. “But that can wait. Let's eat first.”

Jake awaited Marty's arrival at breakfast the next morning. She had told him of her falling-out with the society women, and he wanted to assure her that she needn't fear—at least not on his part—any repercussions. He couldn't care less about the social side of life. At one time it had seemed important, but financial crashes had a way of leveling the playing field, and Jake was beginning to see what a fool he'd been to even worry about such matters. Just looking back on the choices he'd made to please Morgan almost made him feel sick.

It seems all
my life I've been trying to please someone rather
than figure out what God desired for me in the
first place.

“I didn't expect to find you still here,” Marty said as she entered the dining room. “I was so glad you sent Alice for me.”

“I thought you deserved to see your husband in a rested state.” He held out her chair and helped seat her at the table. “Not only that, but I wanted to reassure you.”

Marty's expression changed to one of confusion. “Reassure me?”

“Marty, I haven't wanted to say anything, but I think our days in Denver are numbered anyway. Your falling-out with
Mrs. Morgan and the other great ladies of society may simply coincide with a progression of changes that cannot be stopped.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I feel confident, given the problems going on in the country, that it will only be a matter of time until our bank collapses. There are all manner of problems at our institution, and I cannot begin to figure them all out. I can say without a doubt, however, that changes are upon us.”

“It can't be that bad,” Marty declared. She shook her head when Brighton offered to pour her a cup of coffee. He retreated to Jake's side of the table and refilled his cup instead.

“I'm afraid it is. What you experienced at the garden party is just the tip of the iceberg, I'm afraid. The few ladies that were mentioned as having left the city with their families are only the start of what may well become a mass exodus.”

“But things aren't any better anywhere else, are they? I mean, my sister has even talked about how awful things are in Texas. Cotton prices have dropped so low that farmers aren't even considering replanting another crop.”

“I know, but it would seem that folks of means are tightening their belts just as we are. Instead of having three or four homes at their disposal, they're consolidating and selling off some of their holdings and real estate. At the very least they are closing the houses in an effort to save money. I heard Mr. Morgan speak of selling his seaside place in California. He may move back east if he finds it necessary to close down the banks here. All I'm saying is that I didn't want you to fret over what happened with the ladies. You aren't to blame. You've a kind heart, Marty. That's something most of them can't understand.”

“And you believe we'll need to move, as well?”

Jake nodded. “I never wanted this house in the first place. For now, Mr. Morgan told me to sit tight. He's not even requiring I make the mortgage payment on it since he's had to cut back on my salary.”

“I didn't know that he'd done that,” Marty said, the worry in her tone obvious.

“I didn't want to scare you.”

“What will we do if you lose your position?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I don't know. I do know, however, that there's little we can accomplish by being afraid. We'll take this one step at a time.”

Marty looked unconvinced but said nothing more on the subject. They made small talk over a light breakfast of eggs and toast, but Jake could tell her heart wasn't in it. He finally pushed back from the table.

“I'd best get down to the bank.” He moved to where Marty sat and gave her a kiss on the cheek. In the past he'd only done this for show, but now he felt his heart beat a little faster at the mere touch of his lips to her face.

“Will you be late?” she asked. Her gaze lifted to meet his.

“Probably. But don't worry about me, Marty. You need to take care of yourself.”

He rode in silence to the bank and arrived twenty minutes before the doors were to be opened to the public. Jake tensed at the sight of Mr. Morgan's fine carriage. There was another carriage parked in front of Morgan's, and Jake guessed it belonged to Mr. Keystone.

Making his way into the bank, Jake spotted the men waiting for him in his office. “Good morning, gentlemen,” he said, walking to his desk. “Did we have a meeting this morning?”

“No,” Morgan replied. “But we need one. I've been going over the papers you sent me. It would appear there are problems with some of the numbers being duplicated, just as you stated.”

Jake felt a sense of relief. He'd almost worried that the men were there because of what Marty had said and done at the garden party. “Yes, it's clear that there are duplicated numbers and a lack of inventory to back up what's been declared.”

Morgan smiled and lit a cigar. “Well, I know we'll get to the bottom of it in time. I just wanted to tell you that you've done a fine job here. I'm going to turn it all over to Mr. Keystone, and he will take care of it.”

“I'm glad to hear that. I've enough on my agenda to keep me busy. Is there any other news out of Washington?” Jake asked.

“Not per se,” Morgan replied. “Although I read this morning that Lizzie Borden will most likely be acquitted of murdering her parents.”

Jake had read about the Massachusetts woman who had been accused of killing her parents with an ax. He nodded but had no desire to discuss it. “I thought maybe something related to the economy and the well-being of the American people.”

Morgan gave a laugh. “Oh, there is news out of Washington, but it's from last month. However, it continues to amuse me. It would seem the Supreme Court has finally ruled that a tomato is a vegetable.”

“Well, that's a relief,” Keystone said sarcastically. “At least now waiters will know the proper place setting for it.” He and Morgan roared with laughter, and even Jake couldn't help but chuckle. The world was falling down around them,
but at least they now knew that a tomato was officially a vegetable. And because the Supreme Court had declared it such—it must be so.

“Mrs. Wythe?” a little boy said in a questioning tone.

Marty looked to her left and found the little waif looking at her with great expectation. “What is it, Wyatt?”

“Do you have children of your own?”

The seven-year-old's question threw her for a moment. Marty finally shook her head. By now several other children had gathered at her side. “No, I don't have any . . . yet.”

“Maybe I could be your little boy.” His eyes were filled with hope, and it made Marty want to snatch him up and pledge her undying love.

“Well, right now all of you are my children,” Marty replied. “I so enjoy getting to be with you and share our stories together.”

“But it ain't the same as havin' a real ma and pa,” one of the older boys stated.

Marty caught his look. She saw betrayal and hurt in his eyes. This was a child who had been gravely wounded. “You're Adam, aren't you?” The boy nodded. Marty wondered how best to answer the lad. “You know, when I was a newborn baby my mother died. My father died when I was five, and my sister raised me. I know it's not the same as having to live in an orphanage, but I think it's important to find love wherever we are.”

“Do you love us?” a little girl Marty knew as Nettie asked.

Marty smiled. “I do indeed. I love each and every one of you. You make my day brighter.”

“So couldn't you 'dopt us?” Wyatt asked.

How she wanted to tell him yes. She knew these children were afraid of their future. They only had the employees of the orphanage to show them affection and love. She hated that she couldn't just tell them to line up—that she'd take them all.

“Children, it's time for lunch,” Mrs. Staples called from the door. Most of the children made a mad dash for the dining room.

Wyatt gave Marty one last hopeful look, then ran after his friends. Marty knew that as long as she lived, she would never forget that face.

“Are you all right, Mrs. Wythe?” Mrs. Staples asked.

Marty looked up and met the woman's questioning gaze. “I suppose so. I . . . well . . . what are the chances these children will find homes?”

Mrs. Staples shook her head. “Not good. Especially now. The wealthy have never been inclined to take in poor children—except as servants, of course. The families who would be likely to adopt are now doing without daily provisions for themselves. So many are out of work and can't feed the folks already reliant upon them. And of course the poor are the ones who brought us most of these youngsters to begin with. They found themselves unable to raise children even when the economy was booming.”

The woman gave a sigh. “I'm afraid in the very near future, most of the older children will simply be put out from the orphanage in order to have enough money to tend to the younger ones.”

“Put out . . . where?”

“On the streets.” Mrs. Staples shook her head again. “It isn't what any of us want, but there aren't very many options.
We encourage the children to seek out the churches for help. We encourage them to find places where they can work for room and board. Sadly, it's only going to get worse before it gets better.” She glanced over her shoulder and then back to Marty. “I'd best get in there. Miss Hayden has a difficult time handling the older boys.”

Marty let the woman go without another comment. Her heart ached at the thought of Adam being turned out of the orphanage. She had no idea what age classified a child as “older,” but surely it wouldn't be that long before Adam would be on that list.

Gathering her things, Marty walked to Mr. Brentwood's office and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” he called, and Marty opened the door.

“I was about to leave but wondered if I could speak to you.”

“Of course,” he replied, standing. “Won't you have a seat?”

“Thank you. I heard today that you will have to release some of the older orphans.”

He frowned. “I'm sorry to say that is true. Given that our support comes from private funds and donations, I'm afraid we can no longer afford to keep everyone. In order to see to it that the little ones have a minimal amount of care, we have no choice.”

“I wonder if you could delay long enough for me to contact my sister in Texas. She and her husband own a ranch. They might be able to provide work for some of the children. I know you said that there were several who wanted to work with cattle.”

He looked at her for a moment and rubbed his chin. “How long would this delay take?”

“Only as long as it takes to get a telegraph off to Texas
and receive an answer,” Marty replied. “A letter would be better, as I could explain in more detail, but I think I can get my sister to understand the situation with a telegram.”

He nodded. “I don't know why it couldn't wait a day or two—maybe a week at most. We haven't yet spoken to the children.”

“Good,” Marty said, getting to her feet. “Don't. I will check with my sister and see what she can offer. Perhaps there will be other ranches in the area who can take on a boy or two.”

Mr. Brentwood stood. “Mrs. Wythe, you are a saint. I know that God sent you to us in our hour of need. No one else has posed any kind of solution for helping these children—just you.”

“Well, I don't know how much of a solution it will prove to be, but I'll do what I can.”

As she made her way to her carriage, a heaviness settled on her heart. Marty wanted to make life better for the children, but she was just one woman. What could she do? Save Adam? Wyatt? But what of the others? John and Tim were in their teens, nearly adults. Nettie and Willen were each twelve. Would that be enough to send them from the safety of the orphanage? There didn't seem to be any reasonable answer. Even if Hannah and Will could take a good number of them—there were hundreds left.

“Samson, I need to stop by a telegraph office.”

“Yes'm.” He helped her into the carriage and by the time Marty had settled in, Samson had the horses in motion.

She mentally composed the message she would send.
Numerous orphans to be turned
out on the street. Can you take some for ranch
work? Need answer immediately. More to follow in letter.

With the telegram on its way, Marty felt that she had done at least a small thing for the welfare of the orphans. Of course, Hannah and Will might say no. But she doubted it. They were just as concerned about assisting the helpless as she was. Maybe even more. It saddened her to imagine children trying to live on their own, begging passersby for food.

Upon arriving home, Samson helped Marty from the carriage. He beamed a smile, but it didn't change Marty's mood.