by Merry Farmer
His explanation stopped when Mr. O’Brien turned both boxes upside down, dumping all of the cards onto the floor. Mr. Greeley yelped and dove to pick up the cards. Mr. Eastman laughed from his spot, tipped back in a chair smoking a cigar.
“Filing systems must comply with Wyoming bank regulations,” Mr. O’Brien sneered before tossing the empty boxes back onto the counter.
“These were alphabetized,” Mr. Greeley moaned.
“Clearly not.” Mr. O’Brien had already moved on to the ledger, turning its pages roughly.
Honoria did her best to catch Solomon’s attention so that she could send him a smile of support, but her dear husband was more distracted than she’d ever seen him. He rubbed his face, massaging his jaw, then rolling his shoulders. She figured it was his attempt to look nonplussed.
“This is not standard ink,” Mr. Lamb said, taking a new, sealed bottle of black ink out of one of the drawers in Solomon’s desk.
“I was not aware ink had standards,” Solomon answered him grimly.
Mr. Lamb snorted. He glanced first to Mr. Eastman, then Mr. Chalmers. For his part, Mr. Chalmers was frowning as much as Solomon as he went over older records in a cabinet to the back of the room. The men from the WSGA had all claimed to be gentlemen and professionals, but as far as Honoria was concerned, Mr. Chalmers was the only one she would have considered applying those labels to. If only he’d speak up.
“Seems to me there are a lot of things you aren’t aware of, boy,” Mr. Lamb said, giving Solomon a look that Honoria wouldn’t tolerate giving to a naughty child. Worse still, before any of them could react, he twisted open the bottle and upended it onto the papers strewn across Solomon’s desk.
Solomon gasped and made a move to rescue the papers, but stopped before he took more than one step. It was too late. The carefully-kept records and timesheets that Mr. Lamb had scattered across the desktop were instantly ruined. Weeks, months, of work were ruined with a splash. The desktop blotter could only take so much. It was more likely than not that the mahogany desktop was stained beyond hope as well.
“I found another offense,” Mr. Lamb snorted. “Improper record keeping for the last three months. That’s a serious offense, boy.”
Honoria gasped aloud. How dare the man accuse Solomon of not keeping records when everyone in the room had just witnessed him ruining them? What was even worse was that Solomon hardly blinked. He clasped his hands behind his back and stood there with fury in his eyes as if…as if he’d been treated the same way before and knew there was no point in resisting.
Just like she had spent years assuming there was no point in resisting Vivian and Melinda’s bullying. These men were as bad as her sisters and worse. Vivian and Melinda treated her abominably because they thought it was their right by virtue of birth-order. The men destroying Solomon’s bank in the name of protecting customers and investors had no reason to be so vicious other than the color of Solomon’s skin.
And the fact that he’d had the audacity to marry a white woman.
That thought was the last straw. She stood abruptly, draping her sewing work over one arm. Her fists were clenched, and indignation burned in her eyes. Solomon pivoted to see what had prompted her to stand, and his brow flew up in surprise.
“My darling, is something wrong?”
His term of endearment left the WSGA men gaping. Mr. Eastman recovered enough to spit tobacco from his cigar on Solomon’s clean floor.
“I can’t stand by and let this continue,” Honoria managed to seethe.
Solomon let his arms drop to his sides and rushed across the room to her. “There’s nothing you can do to stop it without making the situation worse. Trust me.”
She stared up into his eyes, holding his gaze. She trusted him with her life. What she didn’t trust was the malice of bullies and brutes. “I will stop this,” she said, barely above a whisper but as certainly as if she held all the power in the world in her hands.
“I’d rather you didn’t interact with these men,” Solomon said, leaning closer and speaking even softer.
Honoria shook her head, drawing in a deep breath. “I don’t need to speak to them to stop it.” Solomon frowned in confusion, but she went on. “I’ll be back later this afternoon.”
Without waiting for him to question what she meant or where she was going, she hugged the dress she’d been sewing tighter and marched for the gate in the counter and on to the lobby door.
“I keep asking myself what a pretty little piece like you would be up for without this monkey around to defile you,” Mr. Eastman called after her.
“I’ll thank you not to make comments like that about my wife,” Solomon growled in reply.
“You want to try to stop me?” Mr. Eastman challenged him.
Honoria had reached the door, but she turned back, catching Mr. Greeley’s eyes. “Do not let them get into a fight,” she whispered.
“I’ll do my best, ma’am.” Mr. Greeley shrugged.
Leaving was excruciatingly painful, but she had to do it. As soon as the bank door shut behind her, Honoria dashed down the street to Wendy’s shop. She barely had time to return the dress and ask if Travis had any horses at the livery that she could borrow before she was moving on to have him saddle one of those horses. She hadn’t done much riding in her day, but she had been raised on a ranch. She knew enough to hook her knee around the sidesaddle and to nudge the horse into a run.
The ride out to her father’s ranch passed in a blur as her mind swirled around and around over what she could do or say once she got there. It was a huge risk to ride back into the lion’s den after making her escape, but she couldn’t let things continue on the way they were going.
It was a piece of luck that the entire family and Bonnie were sitting out at the table on the porch enjoying their lunch as she rode up.
“Oh my heavens, is that Honoria?” Bebe half stood out of her chair, raising a hand to shield her eyes.
By the time Honoria reached the side of the house, Bebe wasn’t the only one standing. Her father and Bonnie had gotten up too. Only Melinda, Vivian, and Rance continued eating as though nothing were out of the ordinary.
“It’s about time you came to your senses and returned to your family.” Rex greeted her with a victorious sneer.
Honoria struggled down from her borrowed horse and glared at him. “I have not come to my senses.” It wasn’t what she had planned to say, but she was damned if she was going to take back a single word that came out of her mouth where her father was concerned.
“Then why are you here?” Rex’s smugness melted to suspicion.
“Come have lunch with us,” Bebe asked, a hint of desperation in her voice.
“Who are you to issue invitations, you ignorant twit?” Melinda snapped.
“She’s an idiot,” Vivian followed, though not as enthusiastically as Honoria would have expected. “You can’t expect anything sensible to come out of her mouth.”
“But I was just asking if Honoria—”
“Shut up, Bebe!” Melinda and Vivian rounded on their sister simultaneously.
Honoria felt sick to her stomach as her suspicions about the way Vivian and Melinda were now treating Bebe seemed to be proven. It wasn’t long until she had other things to feel sick about.
“You sure are fetching when you’re riled up, Viv,” Cousin Rance snorted. “Gets me all hot and bothered.”
“Don’t you dare touch me, Rance Bonneville!” Vivian snapped with such ferocity and with a hard jerk to the side. Honoria didn’t need to see it to know Rance had groped her under the table.
Honoria had taken advantage of the distraction to tie her horse to the porch railing and to ascend the stairs to face her father. “I want you to tell those men from the WSGA to stop tormenting my husband and to go back to wherever it is they came from.” She was shocked at the strength of her demand, but not shocked enough to back away from it.
For a moment, her father looked like he didn’t know what to make of
it either. All too quickly, his brittle grin returned. “Leave them alone to do their work. You don’t understand it anyhow. You don’t understand what’s in your own best interests.”
“Don’t I?” Her voice rose an octave. “I understand what’s right for me far better than you do. I demand you stop this at once.” She clenched her hands into fists at her sides, certain from the heat that infused her that she was red with fury.
“Honoria.” Bonnie stepped forward, hands held out cautiously to her. “Are you quite certain this is the best way to approach things? You’re in such a delicate condition as it is.”
“Did that n— knock her up?” Rance blurted.
The edges of Honoria’s vision blackened with shock and fury. Melinda yelped in offense. Vivian burst into tears and hid her face in her hands.
“So help me, God,” Rex seethed, “if that mongrel has spoiled you with his seed, I will personally see him hung by his entrails.”
There was no way for any of them to know that pregnancy was the furthest thing from Honoria’s mind or capabilities, but it only proved what her father was capable of. “I would view any child of Solomon’s growing within me as a miracle and a blessing. If you’re so small-minded that you would destroy an entire family because it doesn’t fit your profile, then perhaps you shouldn’t consider me a part of your family at all anymore.”
“How dare you?” Rex stepped closer, towering over her and raising a hand.
“Rex!” Bonnie rushed forward to grab his fist before he could land any blow. Rex shook her off violently. If not for the nearby porch rail, Bonnie would have spilled to the ground.
“Wow!” Rance called from the table. “I guess if I wanted some fight in my filly, I married the wrong sister.”
Oddly, his boorish comment deflated some of the dangerous tension on the porch.
“You can have him,” Vivian wailed. “He’s nothing but a vulgar, overbearing, foul, heathen who can’t keep his hands—” She snapped her lips closed and hid her face in her napkin.
“Aw, come on, Vivs.” Rance guffawed. “I thought you liked it when I got all handsy with you.” He winked, and in a shockingly bold move, closed a hand around one of her breasts and made a sound like a horn.
Vivian burst into a sobbing scream and pushed her chair back. She leapt up from the table and lunged toward Rex. “Why did you make me marry him, why? He’s nothing but a loud brute!”
“He’s a Bonneville, and since I have no sons—” He glared at Bonnie. “—he’s the closest thing I have to an heir. He will learn how to manage this ranch, and the two of you and your children will inherit it when I’m gone.”
“I don’t want to inherit the ranch!” Vivian wailed. “I don’t want to have his children. Give it to someone else. Give it to her!”
Honoria’s eyes popped wide as Vivian flung a pointed finger in her direction. Vivian then proceeded to wilt with tears, so much so that she would have collapsed if Melinda hadn’t jumped up to catch her.
“Well, I for one am never marrying,” Melinda declared. “I’m not ever going to let a man touch me the way that animal…” She let her proclamation drop as Vivian redoubled her crying.
Up until that moment, Honoria was ready to rush to Vivian’s aid, no matter how horrible she’d been over the years. It was unbearable to think that her sister was being used and abused by a garish husband and a callous father. But something in the overabundance of Vivian’s tears, something in the suspicious way Bonnie pressed her lips together and Bebe rolled her eyes, told Honoria that there was more act than truth to Vivian’s hysterics. Was it possible life with Rance wasn’t as bad as she made it out to be, and that she was only carrying on to suck in all the sympathy she could?
“Not one of you is as useful to me as a son!” Rex bellowed, throwing up his hands.
“Hey!” Rance finally stood, still chewing a bite of roast as he did. “I thought you said I was just as good as a son now. I’m learnin’ the whole ranching business, ain’t I?”
Rex sighed heavily and wiped his hand across his red and sweating face. “If you don’t run the place into the ground first.” Honoria was certain he hadn’t meant to issue his complaint loud enough for her to hear, but hear she did.
Hear and absorb.
Something clicked in her chest. Something that felt very much like leverage.
“I demand that you call off your dogs where Solomon is concerned.” She tried her ultimatum again. “He’s the greatest ally you could possibly look to in your future.”
“What?” Rex snapped, scowling at her.
Honoria laughed humorlessly. “By your own admission, the ranch is in trouble. Your precious ranch that you’ve always loved more than any of us, more than mother.”
The fact that Rex didn’t dispute the accusation, but only stood there looking peevish was enough to prove it.
“Bringing in a cousin to marry Vivian and take over was a horrible mistake, and I think you know it,” Honoria rushed on. “In spite of your meddling, Solomon will rise above the mess you’ve thrown him in. Someday when I’m gone, he’ll be the only person you can turn to.”
“When you’re gone?” Rex paled.
“I’ll be dead before you know it.”
She clamped her mouth shut, certain she would be blushing furiously if she wasn’t already red from anger. She hadn’t come out here to tell her family she was dying. The last thing she wanted was for them to get a single hint of her illness. They would think it made her weak, able to be manipulated.
But to her great surprise, her father stepped forward and grasped her arms. “What have they done to you? What have they threatened you with?”
For the first time in the confrontation, Honoria wanted to shrink back. Rex held her firmly in place, though, an inexplicable panic in his eyes. “I—”
“I told them they were not to hurt you, only him. They weren’t to harass you or lay a single finger on you. You’re my daughter!”
Any temptation to think that her father wanted her spared out of love was dashed by those last words. No, he just didn’t want his property damaged. But his outburst proved what she’d suspected all along.
“Those men are harassing my husband under your orders.” It was a statement, not a question. She knew the truth, and she could see her father for everything he was now.
“I told them not to hurt you.” He let go and took a hard step back.
“Then tell them not to hurt Solomon either.” Her mind raced. There was no guarantee her father would do a single thing she said. The only thing she could bargain with was his own sense of pride and self-importance. “I swear to God above, Papa, if any of those men lays a finger on Solomon, I will go down with him, fighting all the way.” Death would come for her sooner than later, so why not use it to her advantage? “And everyone will know you were behind it.”
Rex took another step away from her. The blood drained from his face. He wiped his hand over his mouth as though trying to wash away a sour taste. And that was how she knew she had him. She wasn’t proud of the way she’d won, but she’d won nonetheless.
“I’ll tell them to use no physical force,” he conceded at last, voice hoarse with frustration. “I cannot and will not stop them from completing their investigation.”
“They will find nothing wrong with the way my husband conducts business,” Honoria promised him. “You will come out of this looking like a raving, jealous fool.”
“How dare you speak to Papa that way?” Melinda yelped.
“Does no one care about my poor, wretched nerves?” Vivian wailed.
“Papa does kind of look bad in this,” Bebe added quietly.
“Shut up, Bebe!” Melinda and Vivian barked at her.
“Come on.” Bonnie rushed forward, wedging herself between Honoria and Rex, and taking Honoria’s arm. “I’ll help you mount up so you can go home to your husband.”
Honoria was still so caught up in the power and awe of everything she’d said and done that she let B
onnie lead her off the porch without protest. Honoria wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Bonnie so tense, though.
“Consumption, eh?” she murmured as they reached the spot where Travis’s spare horse was tied.
“What?” Honoria shook herself out of her emotions.
“Isn’t consumption supposed to waste you away? Make you weak?”
Honoria blinked at Bonnie.
“Are you coughing up much blood?”
“I…” Honoria pressed a hand to her chest, feeling that she should probably be breaking down into a coughing fit right then and there. But she wasn’t. Her lungs didn’t even feel tight. “I haven’t coughed blood. I suppose I haven’t reached that stage of the disease yet.”
“Bonnie! Get back up here!” Rex shouted, recovering himself.
Bonnie sent a wary look over her shoulder. She bent down to form a cradle for Honoria to put her foot in, then hoisted her up into the saddle. “You run home to your husband as quick as you can and tell him what Rex just said. Maybe it’ll help.”
Honoria nodded, gathering the reins. “Bonnie,” she added before she turned the horse to spur him on. “You be careful.”
Bonnie looked up at her with a sad smile. “Honey, I’ve been doing this longer than you can imagine. I know how to be careful around men who have foul tempers.”
Something about the comment ignited far more questions than it answered. There was a story there, a story Bonnie wasn’t telling. Honoria would give anything to know what it was, but now was not the time. Bonnie was right, Solomon needed her. She nudged the horse to turn toward the drive, then set off at a run for home.
Chapter 11
Breakfast was unusually quiet. Solomon sighed over yet another confirmation of sale of stock, then set the telegram on the pile beside his plate. He reached for his coffee, glancing across to Honoria as he took a gulp. As beautiful as ever, Honoria was unusually quiet. She picked at her scrambled eggs with the edge of her fork, but Solomon didn’t think she was seeing her food.
