A Bargain For A Bride (Westward Hearts Book 8)

by Blythe Carver

  “You’re up to something.” Phoebe’s eyes narrowed. “I feel it.”

  “I am not!” Cate insisted, reminding herself not to protest too much and give herself away. “I wish you had a bit more faith in me. What could I possibly be up to?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t care very much, either way. I want to be with my husband by supper.” Rachel motioned to her valise, packed and ready to go.

  Phoebe would not be so easily put off, however. “You look awfully nice for a quick ride in and out of town,” she observed, eyeing Cate’s grey woolen tea gown and fur-trimmed hat and cape. All of them were new, purchased especially for the coming season from the dressmaker in town.

  “Since when is it a crime to dress nicely when one is about to be seen in town?” She turned in a circle, arms held out. “You never know when I might catch the eye of some eligible young man. Just because neither of you cares for such things any longer does not mean I have put my heart to bed.”

  Phoebe giggled at this. “I see. Your kindness is nothing more than a ploy to lure a potential suitor.”

  Cate merely shrugged, smiling slightly. Let her sister believe this was all in service of finding a husband. It was safer for her to believe that than to know the truth.

  Roan was on his way out to the stables when he happened to find the girls preparing to leave and was kind enough to load their things into the rear of the buggy. “Do you have enough blankets? Hot bricks for your feet?” He’d lived so much of his life in the wilderness, facing harsh conditions, and tended to be a bit overprotective when it came to ensuring the girls’ safety and comfort.

  “Yes, yes, Molly saw to it.” Cate patted his arm with a smile. “You might tell her when you see her, or Lewis, that I have taken the buggy out to drive the girls into town.”

  “Perhaps you can stay for supper?” Rachel asked, climbing into the buggy.

  Roan’s brow knitted. “Do you think it would be wise to bring the buggy back at a late hour?” Ever since Holly was kidnapped by men along the road into town, the men of the ranch were more concerned than ever for the safety of the women. It was after escaping her kidnappers that Holly met Roan, her husband of only two weeks.

  “You make a good point. You’re welcome to stay, Cate.” Phoebe joined Rachel, the two of them waiting impatiently to be on their way

  Yes, perhaps it would be for the best to spend the night in town. She might have more time at the bank and not feel quite so rushed. Besides, there was no guarantee that anyone would be able to see her immediately. If she had no choice but to remain in town until it grew dark, she would have to explain to her sisters why she’d been so late and why she needed to spend the night. This way, she already had that problem taken care of.

  It seemed things were lining up in her favor. She took this as a good sign and climbed into the buggy with greater confidence than ever.

  “Yes,” she decided as if she’d deliberated at all. “Please tell Molly and Holly that I will spend the night in town and return tomorrow.”

  They tucked the blankets around themselves, hot bricks warming their feet, before Cate tapped the reins against the backs of the chestnut mares hitched before them.

  Indeed, this was how she would make her dream come true. She would go to the bank and implore them to provide the investment for the building of a theater. That was what they did. Was it not? This would be an investment for the entire town, and any business person worth their salt would surely see it.

  That was the problem with going to her sisters. They could not see beyond the ends of their noses and were unable to rid themselves of the notion that acting was, on the whole, a profession far beneath her.

  She managed to join in the happy chatter as the team whisked them away from the ranch. Even in spite of her excitement and nervous energy, she felt a sense of gladness for her sisters. They were so clearly overjoyed at the prospect of being with their husbands again.

  She wondered—vaguely, in the back of her mind—whether she would ever experience such deep, abiding love.

  No, she did not want that yet. She wanted to be an actress, and an actress could not tie herself down to housekeeping and childrearing. She needed to be free, to travel and perform and touch the lives of countless audience members. Just the thought of doing so sent a thrill through her.

  “Allow me to take the reins,” Phoebe offered. “You must tuck your hands beneath the blanket for a time.”

  Cate gladly relinquished the reins and did as her sister suggested. While it had already been cold upon leaving the ranch, moving as swiftly as they did only made the chill feel more pronounced. She tucked her chin beneath her muffler and huddled close to Phoebe, with Rachel doing the same on the other side.

  “We’ll need the sleigh soon,” Rachel called out from behind her net veil. “I hope we do not have a harsh winter. I would hate to think of trying to make this drive through deep snow.”

  “We shall think warm thoughts, then,” Cate decided, and the three of them laughed.

  It had always been this way. Even the most contentious mornings invariably gave way to warm, friendly afternoons. No matter how they fought, and no matter how often her sisters teased her and disapproved of her choices, Cate knew that at the heart of everything was a deep well of love.

  They passed the rest of the ride this way, the three of them taking turns with the reins, until the familiar sight of the town’s buildings became clear on the horizon. The flag flying above the state capitol building waved in the wind, an ever-present landmark which guided travelers coming from all directions.

  Anticipation thrummed through Cate’s veins, sending her pulse racing wildly. She fought to keep her excitement under control, unwilling to give herself away. They would surely wonder why she was so thrilled over the prospect of spending an evening with them and their husbands, and she could only tell so many lies convincingly.

  Though she suspected neither of them would care much, either way, seeing as how they were too involved with their own romantic concerns.

  The men were at the jailhouse, as they normally were during the day, so Rachel and Phoebe planned to get to work preparing supper soon after arriving at the little house belonging to Rance. “I hope Mason and I are able to have a little house like this one day for ourselves, wherever we go,” Rachel confessed as they descended from the second floor where she’d left her bag to be unpacked later.

  “You don’t think you’ll stay on the ranch?” Cate asked.

  “Even if we stay in the Carson City area, I can’t imagine Mason wanting to live in the big house,” Rachel shrugged. “Besides, I think every woman wants a home of her own, to run as she sees fit. Phoebe and I have already butted heads enough over the management of this house, and we are only here for half the week.”

  As the house truly belonged to Phoebe, she felt as though her decisions ought to be final. Rachel, on the other hand, had ideas of her own. But Mason’s future had not yet been decided. Would he wish to return to his uncle’s detective agency in Pittsburgh once Rachel’s year on the ranch was up? It had seemed unwise for them to purchase their own home just yet.

  Cate could not understand what was so difficult about managing a household, and what could possibly inspire the two of them to fight as they had over it. Chores were chores. Cooking was cooking. What else was there?

  It was already past two o’clock, and Cate knew she had to get to the bank quickly or else risk being put off until the following day if the men working in their offices were too busy to speak with her. “I believe I shall take a walk down Carson Street. That is, if you don’t mind. I can return soon to help with supper if you wish.”

  Once again, Phoebe eyed her with suspicion. “Are you meeting with someone? Is that why you were so eager to come with us today?”

  “Yes, why are you so set on getting away from us now?” Rachel asked as she tied an apron around the waist of her striped work dress.

  Both women had changed out of their heavier woolen clothing
now that they were inside the house and working in the warm kitchen.

  She found herself at a loss for an explanation. Luckily, she did not need to provide one.

  There was a knock at the kitchen door just a moment before it swung open, and in bounded Jesse. “Aunt Phoebe!” he shouted before throwing himself at her, flinging his arms about her waist and squeezing hard. “I lost a new tooth!”

  “Another one?” Phoebe asked, examining his mouth. “If you don’t slow down, you’ll have no teeth left at all!”

  Martha chuckled upon entering the kitchen. Her son always managed to run ten steps ahead of her, no matter where they were going, and as such, his arrival nearly always preceded hers. “We saw you ride past and there was no keeping him away,” she offered by way of apology. “You know I would rather give you the chance to settle in before coming for a visit.”

  “Nonsense,” Rachel chided with a smile, pulling an extra teacup from the shelves, along with a tin of cookies.

  “Just think, we shall have to begin the Christmas cooking and baking soon,” Phoebe murmured with a gleam in her eye and a quick glance Jesse’s way.

  The boy’s eyes widened as he imagined all of the good things which would come out of their kitchen. “I can help!” he offered. If he’d licked his lips, it would not have come as a surprise.

  Cate joined them in laughing merrily, then slowly backed out of the kitchen as the women engaged in conversation. Only four days had passed since they’d last seen each other, yet it might as well have been a lifetime.

  She was glad they’d found a good friend in town and was even more glad for Martha who’d been rather lonely after the death of her husband.

  But at the moment, she was most glad for the diversion. Were it not for Martha’s timely arrival, she might need to explain the importance of getting to town. She fastened the large, shiny buttons of her coat, wrapped her muffler around her neck and tucked the ends into her collar before affixing a fur hat in place and sliding her hands into her seal skin muffler.

  It was always good to make a fine impression when going on such important errand.

  And this was perhaps the most important errand she had ever gone on in her life. Nothing less than her entire future hung upon this visit to the bank.

  Her footsteps were quick as she walked from the house down the three blocks between it and Carson Street. So long as neither Rance nor Mason stopped her going into the bank, she would be safe.

  And once she got there, it seemed an inevitability that a sensible man would see the potential in her idea.

  The bank sat catty-corner from the jailhouse, and she cast a watchful eye in that direction before turning toward the large, stone building with gold-painted letters spelling BANK above the front door.

  She realized with a start that she’d never been inside a bank before. There had never been a reason to. Molly had always taken care of the banking in Baltimore, and now Lewis managed things for them. She had no doubt she and her sisters could manage for themselves were not for the way men tended to look down upon women as being less capable. Lewis had warned early on that the bankers of Carson City were more likely to take seriously a man’s presence than that of a woman.

  She only hoped that was not the case today.

  It was dark inside. The glass shaded lamps at each worker’s window giving off little light beyond that which the men behind the counter needed to see by. She counted no fewer than five brass spittoons as she crossed the marble floor, and that plus presence of thick, almost choking cigar smoke spoke of a heavily male presence in the place.

  She did her best not to wave the smoke away nor to cough visibly, smiling at the first man who caught her eye. Now that she was here, her knees quaked terribly. Good thing her heavy skirts and coat concealed this as she marched over to where the young man in question stood behind the brass grate which ran the length of the counter.

  “I would like to speak to someone in regard to an investment,” she announced, reminding herself that an actress could portray any emotional or physical state of being. She needed to be confident now, so she did her best to pretend to be.

  The young man—he might have been no older than she was—wore a pince-nez on the bridge of his nose through which he peered at her as if he didn’t believe she existed. His hair was slicked down with pomade, gleaming even in the dim light from the lamp positioned beside him. “An investment, you say?”

  She nodded, eager now. He hadn’t told her to leave, which she took as a good sign. “Yes. I wish to open a theater here in Carson City and would like to speak to someone in relation to securing the financial investment needed for such an undertaking.” She was quite proud of herself for sounding as though she knew what she was talking about.

  The man blinked, clearly surprised by her forthrightness. “I… That is, it…”

  She waited. When the gentleman did not continue, she prompted, “Is there someone here I might speak to?”

  “What’s this all about?” An older man appeared, emerging from an office behind the row of clerks. The cigar wedged firmly between his teeth belched blue-gray smoke her way, which she struggled not to choke on as she raised her chin in what she hoped was a confident gesture.

  The young man paled slightly, turning to the older man and murmuring something close to his ear.

  The older man paused, then, withdrawing the cigar from his mouth, laughed heartily. “You say this young woman is here to ask for a loan?”

  Rather than waiting for the young man to answer, Cate spoke up. “Yes, that is exactly why I’m here. My name is Cate Reed, of Reed Ranch. My father was Richard Reed.”

  “Yes, yes, we are all well aware of who you are, Miss Reed. And of your parentage. However…” The man’s face went red as he laughed again. “We are not in the business of extending loans to young women. Do you have a husband to speak for you?”

  A husband? Indignation filled her head, threatening to spill out of her mouth. A husband! “I have not,” she muttered, her teeth clenched though she bared them in a smile. “I have a mouth of my own and can speak for myself.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, but you’ll need a man to take out a loan,” he snorted, shaking his head and laughing again as if he’d heard the funniest thing imaginable.

  By now, he had alerted half the bank to her presence and to his dismissal of her. She felt their eyes on her, the eyes of so many men, and she wished she could sink into the floor and never return.

  For they were not kind eyes, not kind men.

  They considered her nothing more than a silly girl. Some of them even chuckled, shaking their heads at what they perceived to be her foolishness.

  She could do one of two things in this situation. She might either stay and stand her ground, demanding he grant her the chance to speak her mind as a future landowner and account holder with the bank.

  Or, she could turn and run, wishing she’d never made such a foolish mistake.

  Pride demanded the latter, and so she turned and stormed out with all the dignity she could muster while her dreams fell to pieces all around her.

  It was never to be. She would never see her dreams become reality. Why did her sisters get what they wanted most while she could only grasp at smoke?

  A phosphate at the druggist’s might soothe her sorrows. She could not possibly return to Rance’s home in this state. Her sisters would know in an instant that she was upset and would pester her until they found out why.

  One day, when she was on stage, she would recall this dreadful embarrassment and use it in a performance. Otherwise, this would all have been for nothing, and she would have no one to blame but herself for the laughter which echoed in her head.

  “Excuse me, Miss?”

  She was so upset, her hands shaking inside her muff and her knees trembling almost too hard to support her, that she almost did not hear the man who approached from behind her.

  “Miss? Cate Reed, was it?”

  She whirled around, prepared to give this
man a piece of her mind. Now that she had been turned down before she could even present her speech, there was no longer any reason to keep the social niceties in mind. “What? Did you follow me out here so you might laugh at me, too?”

  He took a backward step, frowning. She took him in with a practiced eye. He was rather handsome. Dark hair just visible from beneath the brim of his bowler hat. Full lips on a firm mouth. Blue eyes which she now discovered seemed filled with concern.

  He was well-dressed, right down to the gold pocket watch on a gold chain visible thanks to the fact that he had not buttoned his overcoat before following her outside.

  “I had not intended to laugh at you,” he assured her. “My name is Landon Jenkins, and I believe we can help each other.”

  3

  “Thank you for agreeing to sit down with me.” Landon studied the girl now that they were seated in the back corner of Ruby’s Restaurant, as private a setting as he could imagine on the spur of the moment.

  His first impression of her at the bank was of a naïve, headstrong young thing who’d worn her finest clothing as a weapon against the snide, patronizing men in the bank. That was what they were. They dismissed her without waiting to hear what she had to offer.

  Now he saw that she was, indeed, young. Also very pretty, with her shining brown hair and sparkling dark eyes. Outrage, embarrassment, and chill in the air had lent a pink tinge to her cheeks.

  “I would like some tea,” she murmured, eyes sweeping the room before darting out the window and surveying the sidewalk beyond. It was mid-afternoon and thus not very busy, with most people hard at work.

  “Are you looking for someone?” he asked after a minute of her staring outside.

  Her eyes met his, then lowered to the tablecloth. “My brothers-in-law work here in town, and I ask myself if they might see me here. They will naturally wonder why I’ve sat down with a stranger.”