“Mr. Wythe! Mrs. Wythe! Whatever happened?”
This only caused Marty to laugh all the harder. Jake carefully lowered her feet to the floor, but the water-soaked skirt acted against her and, combined with her shaky legs, Marty’s knees buckled. Jake caught hold of her and hoisted her into his arms again.
“Willa, have Mrs. Landry see to it that Alice gets a hot bath arranged for Mrs. Wythe. Mrs. Standish, we’ll need something warm to drink. I believe Mrs. Wythe is quite overcome by her introduction to Colorado winter weather.” He gave Marty a wink. “I shall play the hero and carry her to safety.”
Marty felt her heart skip a beat at the gleam in Jake’s eyes. She was beginning to wonder if safety around this handsome man would continue to be possible. Apparently bandits robbing stagecoaches weren’t the only perils of which she should be aware.
Chapter 9
Jake’s mood lightened considerably after their snowy encounter, and Marty stopped worrying about whether she’d made a mistake in coming to Denver. What was done, after all, was done.
There remained a great deal they didn’t know about each other, a lot that they would need to learn, but she hoped in time they could at least be good friends. She liked to imagine them growing old together in an amicable friendship. Perhaps they would travel, as Jake had mentioned in one of his letters. Marty found the idea intriguing.
Jake proved an honorable man. He never suggested their marriage be anything more than they had agreed to, his character proven daily in his kindness and generosity to her—and without expecting anything in return. Well, anything other than keeping up appearances. With this in mind, Marty agreed to attend church at Trinity Methodist Church when Jake asked her to do so the Sunday before Valentine’s Day.
Truth be told, Marty had no desire to pretend her heart was in it. She had told Jake very frankly that she remained at odds with a God who listened to one person’s prayers and seemingly ignored another’s, answering in whimsical fashion at His leisure. Jake listened and nodded, not disagreeing. When Marty had concluded her comments, he simply told her to do what she felt best. She was touched that he wouldn’t impose church services on his wife—the wife demanded by the bank board, the wife required to meet society’s expectations.
It was with this latter thought in mind that Marty finally acquiesced. Part of their marriage agreement was for Marty to fill exactly this role. She had given her word, and if that meant she had to sit through stuffy, meaningless church services to prove to society that she was a proper and fitting wife to Jacob Wythe, then that was what she would do.
Attired in one of her new gowns, a powder-blue worsted-wool suit, and white velvet cloak, Marty felt rather like a princess. The enclosed carriage had been readied with blankets and warming pans so they could ride to the church in complete comfort despite the rather blustery day.
“They certainly do not have weather like this in Texas,” Marty marveled. “I’ve known some cold days, but nothing like this.”
“Mr. Morgan tells me it can get much worse,” Jake replied. “Last winter was my first here, and it wasn’t all that bad. Sure wasn’t as cold as this.”
“You came here from California, didn’t you say?”
He raised his eyes to meet hers. “I did. That’s where my folks moved after they sold off our ranch. But my heart’s in Texas and always will be—much as I appreciate the beauty of Colorado.”
Marty frowned. “What do you mean?”
He seemed to lose himself in thought for a moment. “Well, it’s like I’ve said before—ranching is in my blood. I grew up on a ranch my grandfather started, and I plan to one day return and buy it back or at least buy something nearby. I have my heart set on it. Ya’ll can take the boy outta Texas, but ya can’t take Texas outta the boy.”
His drawl reminded her of his origin. She bristled and tried to stay calm. “You’ve never mentioned that before.”
“I haven’t? I thought I wrote to you about that first thing. That was one of the reasons I wanted a Texas bride. I knew she would understand my love for Texas and want to return there one day. It was a particular bonus to me that you’d been a rancher’s wife. You already know how to do the job.” He grinned.
“But not all women love Texas,” Marty dared to say. Jake didn’t seem to notice, however.
“It’s like I told you a while back, my plans and Mr. Morgan’s take two different directions. Mr. Morgan would see me continue to seek social status and civic popularity. At least that’s what he says. I’m not sure why he’s taken such an interest in me, but I suppose it had something to do with my father’s influence and that of his California business cronies. Anyway, he sees me continuing in the business of banking.”
“There’s nothing wrong with becoming successful in the banking industry.”
“No, of course not. Not if that’s your calling.”
“I see. But it’s not your calling?” She got a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“No. My calling is to return to Texas. I’ve always known I would. I’m a cattleman. As soon as I have enough money to buy a ranch, that’s what I plan to do. I figured I’d made that clear—and I apologize if I didn’t.” He smiled. “But you’re a Texan, very nearly born and bred. You’ve known ranching all of your life. You know how it gets in your blood.”
“I do, and that’s just the problem.”
The carriage stopped and Jake appeared completely oblivious to her comment. “Ah, we’re here. Now you can see the inside of the church. It’s quite amazing.”
Marty wanted to stop him—to demand he listen to her and understand that she had no desire to return to Texas. If this was his plan, then they would need to revisit his dream and their marriage of convenience. But instead, she allowed him to help her from the carriage.
Stepping onto the cleared sidewalk, Marty noted what seemed like a hundred carriages lining the street around the church. Gazing upward, she was again taken in by the tall steeple.
“They say it’s nearly two hundred feet in height,” Jake whispered, as if reading her thoughts. “Can’t really see why it needs to be that high. I suppose it’s their little tower of Babel,” he mused aloud.
“It’s beautiful. I’ve always liked church steeples,” Marty said, remembering her childhood. “It always made me think of us somehow reaching up to God.”
Other well-dressed people made their way into the church, barely pausing to offer nods. The wind was growing stronger, and no one desired to endure its chill for long. Inside, Marty allowed Jake to lead her into the massive sanctuary. He stopped at a pew about halfway up on the right-hand side and stepped back to allow her admission. The other occupants nodded in greeting and scooted down to make room.
Marty had barely had time to take her place when music started booming out from the organ. Glorious music filled the air, unlike anything she’d ever known. The entire congregation rose to its feet for song.
Without any prompting, the people began to sing the doxology in perfect pace with the music. Marty knew the words, but had no desire to partake.
“‘Praise God from whom all blessings flow.’”
She didn’t feel much like offering praise. For all the blessings that God gave, He also took away. Didn’t Job even speak to that? She recalled the verse. The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.
“‘Praise Him all creatures here below.’”
Discomfort crept up her spine. Marty would have exited the row had Jake not blocked her. Coming here was a mistake. She’d not been in a formal service since Thomas died. That was when her anger at God had reached the boiling point. Until now, she’d been fairly good at keeping that rage under control.
“‘Praise Him above ye heavenly host.’”
She tried to calm her breathing and silently wished she’d thought to include a fan in her new white velvet purse. I can do this. I can do this. She focused on breathing in and out. Just a little longer.
“‘Praise F
ather, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen.’”
The music and singing ended, and from the front of the cathedral a prayer began. Marty bowed her head, not to pray or even out of respect, but mostly because it helped to calm her nerves. Why was this happening? Why had Jake talked about moving back to Texas—to own a ranch, no less?
I own a ranch—a Texas ranch.
It was one of the little facts she’d not shared with her husband. No doubt if he knew, Jake would insist on throwing off his banking duties to move her back to Texas that very day.
I won’t go back.
Jake tugged on her arm, and Marty could see that everyone was now taking their seat. The pastor welcomed the congregants and spoke of how the blessings of God were upon them that day. She ignored his words and tried instead to figure out what she might do to persuade Jake that remaining in Colorado was the better part of wisdom.
Hadn’t he mentioned something about the country struggling with certain financial problems? She tried to recall the conversation they’d shared a few nights back. Jake had spoken of several concerns the bank had regarding railroads that were facing receivership. It was the main reason he’d been under so much pressure. She hadn’t completely understood the implications of such actions, but it was obviously not good. If the entire country was having trouble related to money, then Texas would be suffering right along with the rest of the states. Not only that, but there were still problems with the lack of predictable water. Her brother-in-law had been concerned about that even when discussing running her cattle with his.
The congregation rose to listen to the Word being read and then the organ boomed out again with a rousing arrangement of “Onward, Christian Soldiers.” Everything seemed to vibrate, as if a part of the music itself. Marty glanced around at the vast sanctuary. Jake had told her the church held over a thousand people. The beautiful and intricate woodwork of the interior was unmatched by anything Marty had ever seen. Someone had taken great pains to make this an incredibly beautiful place of worship.
Seated once again, Marty’s mind remained on what she should do regarding Jake’s desire to own a ranch. She didn’t hear anything of the sermon, and when the service was over, Marty was no closer to figuring out what actions she should take.
When at last they were dismissed, several of societies’ finer attendees commented in passing that they would be eager to spend time with Marty at the Valentine’s ball, but they didn’t linger to talk. With the weather colder than ever, most folks were happy to move on. For this, Marty was truly thankful.
Jake helped her into the carriage, then settled down beside her. “We might as well try to stay warm together,” he said, throwing a blanket over their legs. “Sure don’t get this cold in Texas.”
“I heard talk that the water shortages in Texas are worsening,” she blurted without thinking.
“It’ll never be as bad as when my father up and sold our ranch. It took me a long while before I could forgive him for that.”
“I suppose it would be hard to lose your home.”
Jake shifted his weight. “It wasn’t just my home. That ranch had been owned by my grandfather and father. It was my birthright—and my father sold it. If he’d just held on a little longer, we . . . Well . . . he didn’t hold on, and now I’m here.”
“But you seem well suited to banking.”
“The ranch was always what I loved most. It was the reason I went off to college in the first place. I wanted to learn more about the business side of things and about any new methods to make the ranch more profitable. Banking was never in my plans.” He sounded almost disgusted. “I just happen to be really good with numbers.”
“That’s a very valuable skill,” Marty pressed. She hadn’t meant to get him dwelling on the past and all that he’d lost—she’d only wanted to remind him of how difficult things were in that ghastly place.
“Might be, but it doesn’t hold my interest like ranching does.”
“My brother-in-law owns a ranch, and they aren’t doing all that well,” she lied. “The drought ruined a lot of water sources, and they are still struggling to get enough water for the cattle. And I don’t need to tell you that the price for cattle has gone down considerably. It’s a hard time for everyone, but especially folks in ranching. That’s one of the reasons I was anxious to answer your advertisement for a wife.”
“Agriculture is suffering, too,” Jake agreed. “I was just reading that the price is bottoming out for cotton. But these things do tend to cycle around.”
“I know you’ve voiced concerns for the economy and the railroads folding. I think you should count yourself fortunate to have a solid position at the bank.” Please let him see the truth in what I’m saying. Marty wasn’t at all sure to whom she was speaking, but she wished with all her heart it might be so.
Jake looked away and nodded. “I suppose I am. What was it that the pastor said this morning in his sermon . . . about wisdom?” He shook his head. “Something about God giving it if you ask.”
Marty hadn’t heard the sermon, but she had been well schooled in the Scriptures. “It’s from James. It tells us that if we lack wisdom, we should ask for it from God because He gives it liberally.”
Jake smiled. “Yes. Yes, that was it. I suppose I should just ask for wisdom about my situation and seek God’s direction. I haven’t done a whole lot of that, though I know it’s what’s right.”
Marty couldn’t hide her frown fast enough, and Jake’s brow rose in question. “You seem to be angry at God. Why? I know you said you weren’t much for church or religion, yet you know the Scriptures.”
“I suppose I’m angry at God because I believe Him unjust and unfair. The Word talks about how He sends the rain where He will. He loves whom He will. He saves one life and lets another die—and very often the innocent suffer.”
“But that’s not all there is to God. Why would you focus only on that? I mean, I’m not a deeply spiritual man, but I do revere the Lord.”
Marty didn’t wish to get into a discussion of religion. “My first husband was a God-fearing man. He read the Bible and worshiped God in his heart and in the church. But God didn’t save him from being gored to death by a riled-up longhorn. I’m sure you could offer something similar about your first wife. Do you not ever wonder why such a loss was visited upon you at such a young age? The Bible says that God is love, but I see nothing loving in allowing such sorrow and pain.”
Jake frowned, and Marty feared that she’d touched a nerve. She’d never discussed his first wife with him prior to this. He’d shared very little regarding the first Mrs. Wythe in his letters. And, because he was new to Denver, she couldn’t even question the household staff about the woman. None of them had ever met her.
After several minutes of silence, Marty apologized. “I’m sorry. I often speak my mind without thinking of where it will take me. I shouldn’t have expressed my feelings in such a bold way.”
“Of course you should have,” Jake replied. “I want there to be honesty between us. I’ve been deceived in the past, and I don’t like it. I’d prefer we always be truthful with each other. Don’t you think that’s best?”
Marty swallowed her guilt. “I do,” she lied again. “I think honesty is always best.”
“Well then, let me just say that my marriage was not a happy one. Not like yours. My wife was only interested in the next sparkly thing. I guess that’s why I’m pleased with your reserve. That’s why I wanted a Lone Star bride,” he said, seeming to forget she was even there. “Josephine didn’t love me. She loved what she thought I could give her. I was ten kinds of fool. Even her folks were embarrassed by her attitude . . . and actions.”
“I’m sorry.” Marty looked at him, but he continued staring at the carriage top.
“She found someone else and ran off not long after we married. I didn’t know where she’d gone, but a part of me was glad to have her gone. She made me so miserable with her nagging about wanting a bigger house in a better neighborhood.�
� He gave a harsh laugh. “She would have given her buttons and bows to be in your place.”
Jake finally seemed to realize he was rambling. “I didn’t mean to go on like that.”
“It’s all right. I want to know about you,” Marty admitted.
“Well, now you do.”
“Where did she go? Did she come back?”
He shook his head. “She ran off with another fella, and then got herself sick in South America. South America of all places! Who even wants to go there?” He shrugged. “She caught some disease, and it killed her. A priest sent us a letter and her things. Her mother cried for weeks on end and very nearly ended up dead herself. Me, I was . . .” He let the words fade. “Never mind. We’re home, I see, and Mrs. Standish promised us a wonderful Sunday dinner.”
Marty said nothing, but nodded. She couldn’t help but wonder what Jake might have said. Perhaps one day he would tell her.
Later that evening as Alice helped her ready for bed, Marty remembered her words to Jake and stuffed down an overwhelming urge to seek him out and confess.
It won’t do any good to tell him that I own a ranch. I’m not willing to move back to it, and it would only be a source of argument between us.
“Better to leave it be,” she murmured.
“What did you say, ma’am?” Alice asked.
Marty suppressed a yawn. “Oh, nothing of importance.” Alice finished braiding Marty’s hair and secured it with a ribbon. Rising, Marty gave the girl a smile. “Thank you. You’ve proven yourself quite capable these last few days, and I couldn’t be more pleased.”
“Thank you,” Alice replied. “I know you took a big chance in hiring me.”
“We all need a big chance now and then. I don’t understand why the bank didn’t compensate you somehow for your loss—especially since your father was in their employ and it was their goods that attracted the attention of thieves. But in a way, they are providing now, since Mr. Wythe also works for Mr. Morgan doing your father’s old job. It’s Morgan money that pays your salary.”
A Sensible Arrangement Page 9
