Sensible Arrangement, A (Lone Star Brides Book #1)

by Tracie Peterson

  William nodded and rubbed his chin. “He’s been worried about the low water levels. It isn’t near as bad as the drought was in the ’80s, but we’re still suffering for water. I don’t have a problem with this plan, Marty. You tell Bert he’s welcome to bunk here again.”

  “And you’ll put him on your payroll?” Marty dared to ask. She hoped the question wouldn’t arouse suspicions. “I mean, since I won’t be around to oversee him and you can use him to work for you, I just wondered . . .”

  “Of course we’ll pay his wages,” William replied. “He’ll do far more for me than he will for you anyhow. You haven’t but about fifty head. We’ll just run them with ours, and if you aren’t back by spring, we’ll separate them out and brand the new calves with your mark.”

  “Or you could just take them in pay,” Marty said. “I don’t mean for you to be out money on account of my . . . desire to travel.”

  “Surely you aren’t planning to be gone so long as that,” Hannah said, leaning forward. She gave Marty an intense look. “Are you?”

  Marty shrugged and tried to appear unconcerned. “I might. Especially if I travel to see Andy, as well. I want to make provisions for every possibility. I figure I can close up the house and send the livestock to you. You can keep the animals as pay for checking in on the place from time to time.”

  “Nonsense. That’s what family’s for, Aunt Marty.” Robert set aside the robe he’d been admiring. “I don’t mind going over there to check things out. I’ll see to it.”

  “Thank you, Robert. Thanks to all of you. I know it might seem sudden, but as I said, I’ve been considering this for some time now.”

  “I suppose if your mind is made up . . .” Hannah didn’t finish her thought, and again the room fell silent.

  Finally, William reached out and took up the Bible. “Why don’t I read the Christmas story?”

  “I’d like that very much,” Hannah said.

  Marty thought she looked worried. I hope she won’t try to change my mind on this. She always thinks she knows best, and this time . . . well . . . this time she doesn’t. Marty bit her lip and lowered her gaze to avoid giving Hannah any opportunity to question her further. She gave a silent sigh.

  Just don’t challenge me on this, Hannah. Just let me go without a fuss, and we’ll all be a whole lot happier.

  Chapter 2

  Jacob Wythe couldn’t help but pull out the last letter from Martha Olson. “Marty,” he reminded himself with a smile. Rereading the beautifully penned script, Jake leaned back in his leather chair and breathed a sigh of relief. She had agreed to marry him, even knowing he wanted a marriage in name only.

  “Mr. Wythe, I’ve brought the ledgers you requested.”

  Jake looked up to find Arnold Meyers, his secretary, standing in the open doorway. In the younger man’s arms were several large record books. “Bring them in and put them on the table over there.” Jake stuffed the letter into his pocket. He’d only been made bank manager in September, after the previous manager had died. Having worked for one of the other Morgan Bank branches, Jake was singled out to take the position due to the owner’s high regard for his proven abilities. Given Mr. Morgan’s faith in him, Jake had taken it upon himself to carefully study the bank’s records. The more he familiarized himself with the details, the better he felt about his duties.

  The younger man deposited the ledgers, then turned back to face Jake. “Mr. Wythe, I understand congratulations are in order. Mr. Morgan said that you are to be married.”

  Had anyone other than the bank’s owner spread this information around, Jake would have reprimanded the man. Now, however, he supposed Morgan had made it public knowledge. “I am. My bride-to-be will arrive soon after the New Year, and we will marry immediately.”

  “Will there be a large wedding?”

  Jake shook his head and got to his feet. “No. We’ve both been married before and are fine to wed without any fuss. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work.” He crossed to the table.

  Arnold took the statement as his dismissal and left the office without offering further comment. Jake was grateful, as he had no desire to explain anything of his past to the young man. His past was, in fact, filled with more sorrow and poor choices than Jake cared to reminisce upon.

  Picking up one of the ledgers, Jake returned to his desk and tried to focus on the task at hand. Instead, the past came unbidden and flooded his thoughts. Josephine was the first image that came to mind. She was his last attempt at falling in love. The lovely young woman had been the daughter of his father’s good friend in California. She was flirtatious and flighty, but Jake had fallen hard for her. They’d married three years earlier, and Jake had never known greater happiness. At least for the first few weeks. After that Josephine grew bored and began to nag him about travel and finding a bigger and better house. Her expensive tastes were more than he could keep up with; however, it was her constant and loudly voiced disappointment in him that caused Jake to grow bitter.

  At one time Jake had thought her very much like another young woman he’d fancied himself in love with years before. Deborah Vandermark lived with her family in eastern Texas. When ongoing drought caused Jake’s father to sell their Dallas ranch and move to California, Jake hadn’t wanted to leave Texas. So rather than join his father, Jake had gone looking for work elsewhere. Unfortunately, the ranching life he loved was not afforded him, and he took a job working for the Vandermark Logging Company.

  He couldn’t help but smile at the memory of Deborah and her family. The Vandermarks were good people—people he would have very much enjoyed remaining near.

  “I would have loved to have married Deborah and called them my own family,” he mused. But Deborah had married another, leaving Jake feeling more displaced than ever before. It was then that he had decided to join his family in California and return to college to complete his studies. At least that had been a wise choice. Perhaps his only one.

  Opening the ledger and turning one dusty page after another, Jake noted the figures for the first quarter of the year. As they headed into 1893, he wanted to assure himself that the bank was completely solid. There had already been rumors of instability to come, and Jake wasn’t about to wait until trouble was upon them to learn whether or not his bank could survive. But try as he might, Jake couldn’t help but return his thoughts to Deborah and Josephine.

  The two women he’d loved were both dark-eyed and dark-haired. Both were beautiful and intelligent, but where Deborah was kind and godly, Josephine had a wild streak that often made her seem cruel. Cruel and unfeeling. Barely six months after they’d married, while Jake struggled to establish himself in his new career, Josephine established herself with another man. Leaving nothing more than a hastily written note, Josephine deserted him for an adventure with this stranger. Less than six months after that, word came that she had died from some disease in a South American hospital. Jake hated himself for feeling more relief than sorrow.

  But now I’m slated to wed again. And for what purpose?

  As if on cue, Paul Morgan, the bank’s owner and a distant relative of the well-known financier J. Pierpont Morgan, bound into the office without Arnold even having a chance to announce him. Josiah Keystone, branch bank president and board member, followed in the owner’s footsteps.

  “Mr. Morgan. Mr. Keystone,” Jake said, getting to his feet. “I’ve just been going over this year’s books.”

  “You’re a good man, Wythe,” the owner declared. “I was skeptical at first about promoting a junior officer to head manager, and had it been anyone but you, I would never have considered it. However, seeing your work and believing you capable of more, I’m glad to have taken the chance.”

  Keystone nodded. “Yes, in just this short time you have done a great deal to reorganize this establishment. It’s to your credit that things are running so smoothly.”

  Jake was relieved to hear their praise. “I’m glad to know that, sirs.”

 
“If I had ten more just like you, my other branches might run in an equally efficient manner,” Morgan said. “But that’s not why I’ve come today. With New Year’s just two days away, I wanted to invite you to join us Sunday afternoon for tea. Mrs. Morgan hoped you might otherwise be uninvolved, as she wanted to know more about this new bride of yours.”

  Breathing a sigh of relief that there was nothing more pressing than an invitation on the old man’s mind, Jake smiled. “I would love to join you on New Year’s Day, but you will have to remind Mrs. Morgan that I haven’t yet acquired my new bride. She is slated to arrive in the middle of January.”

  “Well, you know how anxious women can be.”

  “Bank boards, too,” Jake murmured under his breath. He’d been badgered to marry since accepting the branch management position. An unmarried man in a position of such responsibility had worried the board members.

  Apparently neither Morgan nor Keystone understood his muttering. At least neither acknowledged it, and for that Jake was relieved. He hadn’t meant to be so flippant.

  Morgan smiled and took a seat opposite Jake. The man’s dark hair was graying at the temples, giving him a most distinguished appearance. This, coupled with the expensive cut of his suit and top coat, left little doubt that this was a man of means.

  “Have you set the date for your wedding? You know the board is most anxious to see you settled.”

  Jake nodded. He was already settled, as far as he was concerned. He’d taken up residence in the house allotted him in a rather imposed manner. The board had presented him with loan papers and the keys on the day they’d promoted him to bank manager. He’d had little choice but to accept the offering. Even so, the house was quite lovely and positioned in the best neighborhood in Denver. It wasn’t exactly what Jake would have chosen for himself, however. He was far more inclined to live modestly and save his extra money. He’d mentioned this to Morgan, only to receive a strict dressing-down on how a bank manager had a certain reputation to uphold.

  “The wedding will take place when my fiancée arrives in Denver. As you know, I am a widower and my bride-to-be is a widow. We don’t see any sense in making a fuss. We plan to be very quietly married in the rectory rather than the church as soon as Mrs. Olson arrives.”

  Morgan nodded. “I’m glad to hear it. It will put everyone’s mind at ease once you are settled in as a family man. Married men are much better risks than bachelors.” He smiled and cast a quick glance at Keystone. “I think we can all remember our wilder days without good women in our lives to keep us on the straight and narrow.” Keystone laughed, but Jake only nodded. He couldn’t agree with the men.

  Josephine caused me more trouble than good. The straight and narrow wasn’t a path she was at all familiar with, nor did she want it for me.

  “So I will tell the board that you have arranged to marry by the middle of the month. Sunday you may tell Mrs. Morgan the same. I know she’ll want to throw you a party.”

  “That isn’t necessary,” Jake protested. “I would never expect someone of your social standing to even give us a second thought.”

  “Nonsense. I believe you will make something of yourself in no time at all,” Morgan stated, getting to his feet. “I have confidence in you, and I’m not one to be ashamed of small beginnings . . . just small endings.” He gave Jake a nod. “I believe there are great things ahead for you, my boy. If I thought otherwise, you wouldn’t be in my hire.”

  “Thank you for your confidence in me.”

  Morgan nodded. “We will see you Sunday, then. Good day.” The men exited the room as quickly as they’d entered.

  Jake sat back down and considered the bank owner’s words. Great things for this man would no doubt be associated with banking, and that wasn’t what Jake wanted for his future. Ranching was in his blood, and it was the same that called out to him on a daily basis. He longed to return to the land—to the hard work. He enjoyed fending for himself, sleeping out under the starry skies. He didn’t even mind long hours in the saddle. It was office chairs that made his back ache. He’d only taken on this career in order to set aside enough money to purchase his own ranch. Unfortunately, it was taking a lot longer than he’d planned on.

  “Sir?” Arnold peeked in through the open office door. “It’s closing time. Will you be staying on this evening?”

  Jake glanced at the ledgers and shook his head. “Lock these records up for the holidays. I’ll get back to them when we return on the second of January.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  Jake paid little attention as Arnold scurried around to do his bidding. The younger man was small and pale and didn’t appear to resent the business attire that threatened to strangle the life out of Jake. Neckties and stiff collars were akin to torture devices, as far as Jake was concerned.

  How he longed for the days of a well-worn shirt, riveted pants, and a sturdy pair of boots. Jake gazed out the window for a moment and sighed. Would he ever see Texas again?

  Sunday afternoon, Jake found himself seated in the grand salon of the Morgans’ palatial home. Located near Sixteenth Avenue and Grant Street, the large Queen Anne was only one of many gems set in Denver’s Capitol Hill crown. Most of Denver’s high society held court on “The Hill.” The opulent homes were graced by equally fashionable people who seldom left the confines of their wealthy estates except to visit other people of equal means. Jake thought it all rather nonsensical. In Texas, his father had been one of the wealthier ranchers before the drought. That didn’t mean isolation, however. If anything, it sent people his way on a daily basis. He had good breeder cows and strong bulls. He grazed some of the finest beeves in the South and had made a small fortune during the postwar years.

  “Mr. Wythe, I was just telling Mr. Morgan how happy I was to hear about your upcoming nuptials,” Mrs. Morgan said, interjecting herself into Jake’s memories.

  An immaculately dressed servant offered Jake a cup and saucer. “Would you care for cream or sugar?” the woman asked.

  Jake shook his head. He was no great lover of tea to begin with, but adding cream and sugar only seemed to make it worse. “No, thank you.”

  Mrs. Morgan frowned and cast a sharp glance at the servant. Jake had no idea what the woman had done wrong, but she quickly scurried back to the tea cart looking most dejected.

  “As I was saying before my girl interrupted, I was glad to hear that you have the wedding date planned. Mr. Morgan tells me that your fiancée is to arrive around the middle of the month. Is that still correct?”

  “That’s correct, ma’am.” Jake drank from the teacup and forced a smile.

  “Why such a delay? Could she not leave her people in Texas?” Mrs. Morgan asked in a demanding tone.

  Jake put the cup down. “She is visiting friends in Colorado Springs.” He smiled and tried to change the conversation. “I must say, this is a beautiful drawing room. Is that Italian marble?” He nodded toward the fireplace.

  “Oh goodness, yes,” Mrs. Morgan said, looking down her nose at him. “We had an entire shipload delivered to America when the house was being built.”

  Just then Paul Morgan and several other men entered the room. Jake had no idea where they had been. Since his arrival, he’d only been in Mrs. Morgan’s company and was beginning to feel uneasy.

  “Mrs. Morgan, please forgive our delay.” Mr. Morgan gave his wife a nod, then turned to Jake. “Mr. Wythe, may I introduce some of my associates. Just so happens they are my friends, as well.” Jake got to his feet. “This is Mr. Charles Kountze, a man well known in our banking industry.”

  “It’s nice to make your acquaintance, sir.”

  “Pleasure is mine. I’ve heard some great things about you from Paul.”

  Morgan ignored the reference and continued to make the introductions. “This is John Brown; he’s the owner of that monstrous structure at Ninth and Grant. I’ve heard it said that folks call it ‘the schoolhouse,’ but I cannot say I’ve heard it said.”

  Brow
n laughed and extended his hand to Jake. “It’s because I have so many children—nearly a dozen. It’s good to meet you, Mr. Wythe.”

  “Likewise, sir.”

  “And this is Mr. Moffat.” Morgan stepped aside so the two men could exchange pleasantries.

  “A name I know well,” Jake admitted. Fact was, he knew each of these men by name and reputation, although this was his first encounter with them face-to-face. The two men shook hands.

  I’m standing in the presence of royalty.

  At least Denver’s royalty. Jake retook his seat as the men settled into chairs. He marveled at the collective worth of the gentlemen gathered there. Their fortunes came from banking, mining, railroads, and a vast number of other investments. Each was a savvy businessman whose actions had done much to develop Denver into a thriving metropolis.

  “Again, I apologize for the delay in joining you here today,” Morgan said, refusing a cup of tea from the servant. He motioned her instead to the liquor cabinet. “I had hoped to conclude our business prior to your arrival. After all, this is a holiday.”

  “A new year, 1893,” Moffat said, shaking his head. “Hard to believe this century is nearly gone from us. This year stands on sandy foundations, but if wiser minds prevail, we will see it soon reinforced.”

  Jake had heard all manner of rumors concerning the state of finances in America. The government about to take office blamed the Sherman Silver Purchase Act, which had required the government to purchase silver using bank notes based on silver or gold holdings. People had been arguing for and against bimetallism as a major issue of politics since the act had gone into effect two and a half years earlier.

  The servant returned with a bottle of amber-colored liquor and five glasses on a silver tray. She started to pour Morgan a glass, but he took the bottle from her and held it up. “Gentlemen, may I interest you in a drink?”

  “Oh, Mr. Morgan, must you?” his wife questioned.