A Sensible Arrangement (25 page)

Proverbs 12:19 was one of the first that came to mind.
The lip of truth shall be established for ever: but
a lying tongue is but for a moment.

The lip of truth shall be established forever.

That's what
I'm afraid of. If I tell the truth, it
will forever be established and divide me from Jake.

She flipped to 3 John 1:4 and read aloud. “‘I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth.'” She sighed.

I want to please you, Father.
I truly do. I know that means I need to
be honest. I know that you hate lies. Please help
me. I want so much to make this right.

Marty fell to her knees and prayed in earnest.
Father, I
love him. I love him so dearly, and I never
thought I could love another. I know I've done
wrong. I know I should have told him about the
ranch the first time he mentioned his longing
for Texas
. Oh, Father, I just don't know if I can
endure that again. I fear that Jake might be injured
or killed if we take up ranching. And now that
Hannah and Will are taking the ranch back—I know
it's really too late.

She paused and shook her head.
No, that isn't right. They would quickly
return the ranch to me. It's not too late,
and that's what makes this so hard. With everything
falling down around us, Texas seems to be the answer
to all our needs. But I don't want it
to be the answer.

Tears came to her eyes. Was a ranch in Texas the price for love?

Marty lost track of the time as she prayed and wept before God. She paused occasionally to pace the room or read the Scriptures, but she always ended up back on her knees. And that was where she was when Jake knocked on her open dressing room door.

“Marty?”

Without reserve, she rose and at the sight of him flew to his arms. Jake's surprised expression said it all, but Marty didn't let that stop her. “I love you, Jake, and I want to be your wife.” She pressed her lips to his, not letting him respond.

But it was clear Jake didn't need words. He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her with all the pent-up passion they both felt. Marty melted against him, hoping the moment might never end. She knew she still needed to tell Jake the truth, however.

Pulling back, she met his gaze. “I need to tell you . . .”

He put his finger to her lips. “Tell me later.” He lifted her in his arms. “Much later.”

Jake looked at the woman sleeping by his side and smiled. Marty loved him. It was amazing that he should know the love of such a woman. She had given him a new reason to face the day, and despite all the problems that awaited him at work, Jake was inspired to forge ahead.

Careful not to wake her as he slipped from the bed, Jake couldn't keep himself from gazing at his wife for just a moment longer. He was in love and nothing else mattered. He would have whistled a tune if not for disturbing her peaceful slumber. Without waiting for Brighton, he gathered his things and dressed by himself. He was halfway downstairs when Brighton met him on the landing.

“Good morning, sir. You are up very early. I'm sorry to not have been ready to assist you.”

“No problem.” Jake glanced back at the upstairs hall. “Uh, you might want to wait to make up my room until later. Mrs. Wythe is still sleeping.”

Brighton glanced upward but said nothing. He gave a professional nod and continued as if nothing were amiss. “Sir, I wonder if I might have a word with you.”

“Of course. Let's do it while I eat, however. I'm pert near starved to death.”

In the dining room, Jake was pleased to see breakfast already waiting on the sideboard. He helped himself to scrambled eggs, which Cook had blended with green peppers, ham, and onion. It was one of his favorites. The day was looking better all the time.

By the time he sat down, Brighton had toast and coffee waiting for him. Jake offered a quick silent blessing.
Father, I don
't know quite what to say or how to thank
you, but . . . thanks a lot. Amen
.

He looked up to find Brighton waiting. “So, my good man, what can I do for you?” Jake asked in an animated tone. He dug into the egg concoction.

“I wanted your . . . permission to marry Mrs. Landry.”

Jake nearly dropped the forkful of food. He couldn't contain his grin at the stately announcement. “I'd give you a good ol' Texas whoop, but I'm afraid it might wake up Marty. That's wonderful news, Brighton, and of course you don't need my permission.”

The man gave a small smile. “Thank you, sir. Mrs. Landry spoke to Mrs. Wythe last night and I thought perhaps you two had discussed the matter already.”

“No,” Jake said, lowering his face so that Brighton couldn't see his grin. “We didn't have much of a chance to . . . talk last night.”

“Mrs. Landry, it would seem, has asked Mrs. Wythe's permission to claim the larger room on the servants' floor for us to use after our vows are said. Would that be acceptable to you, as well?”

“Of course. If Marty said it was all right, it's fine by me. When will you two marry?”

“I believe next week, sir. So long as we can put everything in order.”

“I would love to be there,” Jake said, finally feeling able to meet Brighton's gaze. He smiled. “I know Mrs. Wythe would want to, as well.”

“We thought only to see a justice of the peace, sir.”

“That's fine. Marty and I would be happy to stand as your witnesses.”

“Very good, sir. I would like that.”

Jake could see a twinkle in the older man's eyes. “I can't tell you how happy I am for you both. It's been a time in coming, but I'm happier than a dog with a new bone.”

Brighton covered what sounded to be an amused chuckle with a cough. When he'd cleared his throat a couple of times, he excused himself.

Jake finished his breakfast and was out the door before anyone else appeared to speak with him. The joy of the night and morning fled, however, as Samson pulled up to the bank. There were people lining the walkway outside the bank and the line stretched clear around to the side of the building. Jake waited for Samson to open the carriage door, wondering if he might need the man to assist in making a way through the crowd.

As he stepped out, a chorus of cries erupted. “We want our money!” “Let us have our money—it belongs to us!” “You thieves aren't gonna take my savings!”

Jake looked to Samson, who seemed to understand. The big man stepped forward and the people parted like the Red Sea for Moses and the children of Israel. When Jake reached the locked bank door, he paused and turned. Raising his hands, he called to the crowd.

“Folks, if you'll quiet down, I'll hear you out. But not if everyone just keeps talking over the other.”

“This bank is failing,” a man close to him said. “We know it, and we want our money. I heard you folks weren't of a mind to let us have it.”

Jake shook his head. “I've not heard anything of the kind. However, I am to attend a meeting this morning. Most likely they are awaiting me now. I would very much appreciate it if you'd give me time to speak to my board, and then I can better understand what's going on.”

This did little to calm the crowd, but there was nothing else Jake could do. With Samson at his back, he turned and unlocked the bank's front door. “Thank you, Samson. Come for me at five. I'm not staying late tonight.”

“Yes, sir.”

With that, Jake closed and relocked the door behind him. He turned and found a wide-eyed Arnold standing near his office door.

“They started coming at eight. I've never seen the likes.”

Jake nodded and noted the time was half past. “Quite a crowd for just half an hour.”

“Yes, sir. And they aren't at all happy. They've been out there yelling and demanding they be let in here the entire time.”

“I can well imagine. Tell me, have the board members arrived?”

Arnold nodded. “They're assembled in the back room away from the noise. They weren't any happier than you are about the scene.”

Jake handed Arnold his hat and made his way to the back of the bank, where the board had assembled. He opened
the door hesitantly and peered inside. Already the men were arguing and pointing fingers.

He slipped in and found an empty seat at the table just as Morgan slammed his fists down on the hard oak wood. “I won't have this kind of insubordination. You may be the bank's board of directors, but I'm its owner and you will listen to me.”

“Those people indicate otherwise,” Mr. Cooper declared. “It would seem we will have to keep the bank closed or face a riot.”

“We'll face a riot if we keep the bank closed,” Keystone threw out.

“I've telephoned for the police,” Morgan replied. “I didn't build up this business just to watch a bunch of dim-witted fools tear it apart.”

“They've cause to be worried,” one of the other board members declared. “I can't say that I don't have my own concerns. Especially given that we're facing the complete devaluation of silver. Most of those people know the truth, and they aren't going to be easily reassured.”

Morgan eyed Jake as if just realizing he had joined them. “What say you, Mr. Wythe? I realize you are only the branch manager, but I'm sure you have dealt with these customers.”

“I have,” Jake replied. “My guess is that they won't be put off. You have a lot of folks out there who live nickel to nickel. Now that they know you aren't planning to let them have their cash, but instead are giving them bank checks, I think they're going to panic. They'll figure the money could be lost to them.”

“That's my take, as well,” Keystone agreed. “They are like children. It only takes one to start raising a ruckus until all of them join in.”

A knock sounded on the door. It was Arnold. “Mr. Morgan, sir, the police have arrived. They are working to disperse the crowd. However, they want a word with you.”

Morgan got to his feet. “Very well. Keystone, carry on.”

Josiah Keystone didn't look excited to take the helm of this sinking ship, but he did nevertheless. “We will suspend all cash transactions, as Mr. Morgan has explained. Instead, we will be issuing bank checks. If this is not agreeable, the people will either need to await further notice to get their money in cash, or they will have to do without it altogether.”

Jake listened to the discussion of the members, with talk centered on the fall of stocks and gold reserves and the role of the government.

“The president of the United States will get his repeal—of this we can be sure. The House has already passed it, and the Senate is just concluding their discussion on the matter. By summer's end we will face a devastating situation in this city. The western states' economy will collapse like dominoes,” Mr. Cooper declared. “There will be no stopping it. We might as well close our doors now and keep them closed.”

And that was the way the rest of the meeting continued. Finally Jake had stomached all he could. When Morgan returned, he asked if he could be excused to attend to daily business, and Morgan quickly agreed.

Jake slipped from the room and made his way to the solace of his office. Unfortunately, he was not to find peace of mind there, either.

Jake had barely sat at his desk when Winfield Mays appeared in his doorway. The older man, a longtime teller at the bank, looked almost sick. “Mr. Wythe, I must speak with
you.” He twisted his hands and looked to the floor. “It's important, Mr. Wythe, or I wouldn't have bothered you.”

Jake nodded. “Come in and take a seat, Mr. Mays. What can I do for you?”

Mays closed the door, then walked slowly to the desk. He didn't sit, but instead continued to twist his hands as he glanced up a bit. “I've wronged you, Mr. Wythe. I've wronged the bank, but I tried to make it right.”

Jake couldn't imagine what the old man was talking about. “Go on.”

Mays nodded. “You see, Martha—she's my wife—has been very sick.”

Jake immediately thought of Marty and smiled. “I didn't realize you were married, Mays. I am very sorry to hear that she's been sick.”

“It's been going on over a year now—closer to two. The doctors have tried all sorts of things, but nothing much has worked. It's been hard on me to pay all those bills, and some of those newfangled medical procedures . . . well . . . they are expensive.”

“I can imagine,” Jake replied. “But what does this have to do with me or the bank?”

The old man cleared his throat. “I know you've studied the books. I know you saw the discrepancies in the bank's listed assets. It's my fault, Mr. Wythe, and if you want to put me in jail, I ask only that you wait until my Martha passes. It shouldn't be long now.”

Jake finally understood the direction the conversation was taking. “You took the money?”

“I did. Put it back, too. See, I knew I couldn't get a loan with the bank. I didn't have any assets to put up as collateral.
One day when the doctor told me he had a new procedure that he thought would save Martha's life, I just lost all sense. I took the money that I needed. Only for the procedure, mind you. I knew in time I could pay it back, and I did.”

“So why are you telling me this now? Surely you know that Mr. Morgan told me to just consider it a fluke—money mislaid and refound.”

“I know that, sir, but I also know that things aren't going well for the bank. I've found it hard to live with myself. . . . Now that my Martha is passing on, I don't much care to live in this world without her.”

“I'm sure her loss will be difficult,” Jake replied. “Even so, you can't give up on life, Mr. Mays. The good Lord will let you know when your time has come.

“As for the money,” Jake said, shaking his head, “I am sorry you felt that you had to take it in such a manner. There should have been a provision for a bank employee to receive a loan against his wages. However, it was a crime, and your confession puts me in a difficult position.”

“I know that, sir. Like I said, my Martha won't be here more than another day or two.”

“Then why are you here?” Jake asked, moved by the man's situation and need to come clean.

“I have to keep my position for as long as possible,” the old man replied. “I . . . have a funeral to pay for.”

Jake got to his feet and pulled out his wallet. There wasn't a great amount inside, but definitely as much as the old man made in two days' time. He handed the cash to him. “Take this and go home to your wife. Be at her side. That's where you belong. The bank will most likely not even open today.”

“I can't take your money, sir. It wouldn't be right—especially now.” The old man had tears in his eyes as he tried to push the cash back into Jake's hands.

“Mr. Mays, I am your superior here, am I not?” Jake asked with a gentle smile. “I have told you to take this money and not return to work for at least two days. You take all the time you need. For as long as this bank is solvent, you will have a job. I will fight Mr. Morgan and anyone else to see to it.”

“But after what I did—”

“You've confessed your sins and made restitution. Now I ask that you say nothing more about the matter. That's the end of it. Even Mr. Morgan declared it so, and I see no reason to contradict him.”

Mays looked at the cash in his hands and then back to Jake. Without another word, he simply nodded and left the office. Jake sighed and reclaimed his chair. At least now he understood what was going on with the missing and replaced money.

At five o'clock Samson picked Jake up at the bank. They had kept the doors closed and the crowd had finally given up and gone home. Jake knew they'd be back on Monday morning, however. What he didn't know for sure was how Morgan intended to handle it. Josiah Keystone had come to see him after their meeting concluded and indicated they would open as usual on Monday at nine, but Jake feared the crowd would no doubt storm the place without regard to anyone's safety or well-being. It would be mass chaos.

Despite this, Jake couldn't keep a smile from his face as he approached home. Marty would be there waiting for him. He knew it would be a little awkward to face each other after last night, but he was eager to see her again. He wanted to tell
her how much he loved her—how glad he was that God had put them together. It seemed that his prayers had mattered to God after all.