by Paty Jager
“By then your reputation will have been sullied.” His worry lines etched deeper. His tone grew more accusing.
“Her reputation is only being sullied by you arguing and causing a scene.” Clay stood. “When I asked to court your daughter, you threatened me.”
Rachel placed a palm on his forearm. It overwhelmed her to witness the way he came to her rescue even though he couldn’t see his assailant.
“In Portland, I plan to purchase a ring to prove my commitment, and if by the end of this trip Rachel still wishes to spend her life with me, I’ll marry her.” He crossed his arms. “So, sir, you’re the only person who’s finding fault with your daughter’s happiness.”
Rachel stood beside the man she loved. A man who believed in her. “Father, please leave. We both know what we’re doing.”
Her father peered at her, at Clay, and back at her. “It appears there’s nothing I can do to sway your decision.”
“No.” Rachel looped an arm through Clay’s.
Her father’s shoulders drooped. He stared at their locked arms and sighed. “I’ll tell your mother.”
Rachel nodded and drew Clay back down on the seat.
“Do you think he’s giving up?” Clay asked.
“I hope so, but with father, you never know.”
Chapter 20
Five hours and multiple stops later, the train pulled into the Portland station. Rachel stood and stretched her aching back from the bouncing of the train and her legs from sitting so long. She linked her hand with Clay’s, leading him from the passenger car.
“What do we need to do first?” she asked, when they stood on the train station platform. The clatter of the wheels over the metal tracks still rang in her ears and her body wanted to sway like the motion of the train.
“Find out the cost of tickets to Baker City, have them hold our baggage, find a bank, and then a jewelry store.”
Clay pulled her hand into the crook of his arm and waited. She leaned against his shoulder in a brief hug to show him she was still in this adventure whole-heartedly. Glancing at the flow of the crowd, she merged Clay into the stream and kept an eye out for the ticket office.
She stopped to the side of the ticket booth and read the signage. “It’s eighteen dollars per person to Baker City. And it says two dollars more for a Pullman car.” Her eyes skimmed all the information as Clay waited patiently. “The next train leaves at seven tonight and will arrive in Baker City at noon tomorrow.” She faced Clay. “You need to telegraph your brother.”
“Find the telegraph office here, and while I take care of that and get directions to a bank and jewelry store, you can have our baggage held to go on tonight’s train.”
His confident smile made her laugh. “You sound like a seasoned traveler.” She spotted the sign above the telegraph office and set out in that direction.
His confident strides matched her own. He moved through the people milling about as though he saw each and every one. “The trip out here with Ethan and his family, I paid close attention believing I’d return alone.”
She expanded her chest with pride at his stature and confidence. Other women gawked at him with wistful smiles. He cut a fine figure and he was all hers. Heat coiled in her center. The more time she spent with him the more her body craved his touch and kisses.
“The telegraph office.” She placed his hands on the ledge of the window opening. “I’ll hurry back.”
Clay leaned on the casing, listening to the rapid tap of Rachel’s heels departing. “I need to send a telegram to Hank Halsey, Sumpter, Oregon.”
“I can help ya with that.” The male voice had an aged warble to it. “Want to write it down?” A pad bumped his hand.
“No. You can write it down if you need to. Coming home. Train noon tomorrow. Brought a surprise. Clay.”
“That’s simple enough. It’ll be two bits.”
“Thanks. After you send that I have a couple questions for you.” He twisted, leaning one elbow on the sill. Random footsteps tapped, thudded, and clicked, skirts swished, children whined, muffled men’s and women’s voices floated by in fluctuating waves. Scents familiar, sweet, harsh, and foul wafted on the air currents.
“I’m done. What did ya need?” the telegrapher asked.
“Directions to the closest bank and jewelry store. And if you don’t mind, would you please write it down.”
Graphite scratched against paper.
“Here ya go.”
Air wafted toward Clay’s face. He held a hand palm up, and the paper dropped into it. He folded the paper in half matching the corners.
“Is there a decent eating establishment near the bank and jewelry store?”
“Do ya want fancy or something to fill your stomach?”
“Fancy. I’ve a lady to impress.”
The man chuckled. “Try the Hotel Perkins. They have a fine dining room.”
Clay slid a half dollar across the sill. “Thank you for your help.”
“Much obliged!”
Clay stepped away from the window and leaned against the building. Was Rachel having problems? He’d expected her back before he’d finished his tasks. He couldn’t wander off searching for her. Who knew where he’d end up.
Frustration gnawed at his gut. This was why he needed an independent woman. And why he pushed her to continue with her doctoring. A clinging, dependent woman would be useless. He needed someone who would walk beside him through life and help make decisions. Luckily, he’d fallen in love with a very independent woman.
Rapid steps approached. He listened intently. They had a familiar cadence. Firm and quick.
“Finished?”
Rachel’s sweet voice flowed to him as her arm slid around his.
“Yes.” He handed her the folded paper. The paper rustled and she laughed.
“I should have known. It looks like these are only a few blocks away. Do you want to walk or take a cab?” She strode forward, and he fell in step beside her.
“After all the sitting on the train, I could use the walk.”
“Me, too.” She strolled at a leisurely pace. The hollow thud of each step indicated they sauntered on a board walkway. The bustling noise of the train station subsided. Footsteps and the waves of motion had slowed.
“I see the bank,” Rachel said.
“Is it a large bank? What’s the name?” He hoped it was a reputable bank and one that would honor his request.
“I’ve never seen a bank as large as this one. It looks like—yes, it’s the First Bank of Portland.”
“We need to speak with the manager.” His funds in his Baker City account held more than he needed. Plus, during the four months he’d been gone, Hank should’ve added more.
Rachel’s small hand placed his on a door handle. He pulled it open, allowing her to enter, and followed behind. She slid her arm through his once more.
Their steps rang out as they crossed a hard floor. Rachel stopped at the fifteenth step.
“Mr. Halsey would like to speak with the bank manager, please.”
Rachel’s congenial tone, tipped Clay’s lips into a friendly smile.
“This way, please,” a male voice replied.
Seventeen steps and they stopped.
A knock resounded. “Mr. Shepard, a Mr. Halsey would like a word with you.” He liked the business clip of the man’s words.
“Come in, Mr. and Mrs. Halsey,” a voice boomed from the back of the room. Clay smiled at the misconception but didn’t bother to correct him. The man would never see them again, and if he did, by then they would hopefully be married.
Clay caught the scent of rum-soaked cigars mixed with the subtle trace of leather. Ten steps into the room Rachel stopped. The edge of a desk pressed into his thighs. He extended his right arm.
Long, thin, smooth fingers grasped his hand.
“Mr. Shepard. We’re passing through, and I would like to have you write up a bank draft. I have the funds in my account at Baker City National.”
“Have a se
at and tell me a little about yourself.”
Clay smiled. He knew the man wouldn’t hand over money without knowing some history. Rachel tugged on his sleeve, guiding him to a chair. He sat.
“My brothers and I have a stamp mill on Cracker Creek.”
“Halsey… I believe one of your brothers was in here over a year ago. He procured some funds this way as well.”
The man’s genial voice and good memory boosted Clay’s confidence. “That would be my oldest brother, Ethan. He was here arranging the delivery of our equipment.”
The sound of a drawer opening and the rustle of paper was a good sign.
“How much did you and the missus need?” Mr. Shepard asked.
“Two hundred.”
Rachel’s intake of breath filled his chest with pride.
“That’s a large sum, but since your brother wrote notes for more than that last time and there wasn’t a problem, I’ll write this up and get the money.”
The scratch of a quill on paper relieved some of his worry. If the banker hadn’t agreed to the transaction, he wasn’t sure where he could have gone next.
“I need your signature.”
Heat from the banker’s presence hovered beside him. Clay ran a hand over the desktop searching for the paper. Rachel’s small hand slid the quill into his fingers. She placed the finger of his left hand on the paper.
“Thank you.” He grinned at her and wrote his name beside his finger.
“I’ll get your money.” The banker’s heavy footsteps faded.
Rachel clutched his arm. “We don’t need that much money.” Her whisper puffed against his ear.
“We need train tickets, your ring, and dinner. I’d rather have too much than not enough.” He patted her hand.
“But I don’t need a ring, especially an expensive one.”
The worry in her voice tugged at his heart. “Yes, you do. I want to prove to you and everyone else my intentions. I won’t have you wearing some circle of tin when I can purchase something with meaning.”
Footsteps approached and her hand slipped from his arm.
“Mr. Halsey. Here is your money.”
Clay stood at Mr. Shepard’s voice. “Please, hand the money to Rachel.”
Paper rustled and Mr. Shepard said, “Since you’re traveling I broke it into tens and twenties.”
Clay preferred coins as they were easier for him to discern, but the sum in coins would have been unwieldy. Rachel would have to help take care of their finances during the trip.
Clay held out his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Shepard. It has been a pleasure doing business with you.”
“You and the missus have a good rest of your trip.”
Clay smiled as Rachel’s arm slid around his. “We plan on it, sir. Thank you.”
She maneuvered him out of the office and onto the bustling street.
“When we get to a place that’s secluded, I want you to give me half of the money and separate the denominations.”
Rachel’s arm tightened and her steps faltered.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s so no one sees that much money on you and tries to take it.”
Rachel relaxed and chided herself for thinking he didn’t trust her. Her heart fluttered at his protectiveness. “I understand. Why didn’t you correct him when he called me missus?”
“I didn’t hear you complaining and it was easier to let him think that than try to explain.”
Rachel pulled him into the stoop of a closed establishment. She backed against the door, drawing Clay close in front of her.
“How do you want the money I give you?” she whispered.
“Give me half in a bundle of tens and a bundle of twenties.”
She placed the folded money in his hand. “Three twenties.”
He bent the upper left corners over.
She handed him the remainder. “Four tens.”
He bent the upper right corner on them and put the twenties on top of the tens, slipping the folded money into his pocket. He kissed her cheek and backed away, motioning for her to return to the boardwalk. She looped her arm in his, relishing the feel of his strong arm and peering up at his powerful height.
“I see the jewelry store up ahead.”
Giddiness bubbled in her throat like champagne. She, Rachel Tarkiel, would receive a ring. Her feet floated across the board walkway. Her practical side tripped her, and her feet dumped back on solid ground. There wasn’t a valid reason to spend money on a ring.
“I don’t need a ring.” The words nearly choked her, but they were the truth. In all honesty, she didn’t need a ring. Since their first meeting he’d shown his interest in her, and his attentiveness proved he cared.
“I want you to pick out something that you like, not something that’s inexpensive.”
“I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of a ring.”
He stopped and fumbled, grasping her hands. “Because it means I’m pledging a commitment to you. Something I take very serious.”
Her heart leapt into her throat, strangling her ability to say anything. She knew he cared for her and hoped they would have a future, but she hadn’t realized, until this moment, the depth of his loyalty. He would never treat her like William had.
People stepped around them, gawking. Rachel wrapped her arm around his and walked down the boardwalk. “Okay, I see this is a symbol of your commitment. But I don’t need a ring. You prove to me every day you care for me.” Her heart skipped around in her chest. If all went well, he would prove it to her the rest of her life.
“Take my gift of the ring and wear it to remind you.”
The sincerity ringing in his voice brought tears to her eyes. She blinked, trying to wipe them away and clear her sight during their last few steps to the shop.
“We’re here.” She placed his hand on the door handle, and he ushered her in.
“Can I help you?”
Rachel turned to the voice and found a stooped older woman sitting on a stool behind the counter, knitting.
“We’re looking for a special ring,” Clay said, crossing the room. Rachel grasped his hand and followed.
The woman’s wrinkled face grinned. “You’ve come to the right place. My husband makes the most beautiful rings.” She slowly stood and shuffled to a glass case to her right. Rachel drew Clay to the case. Glistening gems of every color twinkled on a bed of black velvet.
“They’re gorgeous!” She couldn’t hide her appreciation. Clay squeezed her hand, and she gazed at his beaming face.
“Pick the one you like the best.”
If his eyes held emotion they’d have danced with glee in the delighted expression he wore. Happiness at his delight and the commitment he wanted fluttered in her chest like hummingbird wings.
“You have dainty hands. I’d go for one of the smaller stones.”
The woman pulled out a tray of sparkling rings. Rachel picked up several, each one more stunning than the last, and studied them.
“I like this green one. It reminds me of spring and new things growing and blooming.”
“That’s a wonderful choice. Emeralds are a stone of love and contentment.” The old woman held two rings. “Try them on. If they don’t fit, my husband is in the back, and he can make it work.”
Rachel held out her hand and slid the first sparkling gem on her finger. It fit perfectly. “This one will do.”
“Let me see.” Clay held his palm out. She placed her hand in his, and he fingered the ring, tugging slightly and feeling the stone. “You say this looks good on her finger?” he asked the woman.
The woman’s face scrunched in anger as though she thought he disbelieved her. Rachel cleared her throat and nodded to her hand. The woman watched his fingers skim over every slant of the stone.
“Yes, sir, that stone looks right pretty on her finger.”
Clay smiled and raised Rachel’s hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Then we’ll take it.”
“Tha
t one’s sixty dollars. It’s an excellent quality stone.”
Rachel gasped at the price and studied the woman. Had she added to the price due to Clay’s blindness? The woman met Rachel’s gaze straight on, her gaze never wavering.
“Clay, you don’t need to spend that much.” She wasn’t like her mother and sister. Expensive things didn’t make her happy. All she wanted was him.
“You like it, the proprietor says it looks beautiful on your finger, we’ll take it.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out the money she’d given him.
Rachel held a snicker as the woman stared opened mouthed as Clay counted out two twenties and two tens and placed them on the counter.
“I’m starving. Let’s celebrate with a nice dinner before we board the train.” Clay held out his arm and she slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow.
“Thank you for all your help,” he called to the woman as they exited the shop.
Chapter 21
Sitting in the dining room of the Hotel Perkins, Rachel stared at the crimson velvet drapes framing lace panels filtering the sun through the front windows. The bustling wait staff darted around carved pillars stoically holding aloft the tin ceiling design. She’d eaten in other fine restaurants in Portland over the years while traveling with her family, but this establishment left her speechless.
“Is the atmosphere right for our celebration?” Clay asked, his hand reaching toward hers across the intimate table.
“Yes, it’s— I can’t even explain how grand it is.”
He smiled, and her heart tumbled even more for the man.
When they’d entered the restaurant he’d told the first person who approached they were celebrating. The man had led them to this wonderful little table and brought a bottle of champagne—a gift from the management. She’d only tasted the bubbly concoction once before.
“You didn’t have to buy me a ring or do this.” She waved her hand around the room. “But I’m enjoying every minute of it.”
“As long as we’re together, I promise to only make you happy.”
He squeezed her fingers, drawing her hand across the table and to his lips, dropping light kisses on each knuckle. Her stomach fluttered. Heat flushed her body like a vat of hot water poured over her.
