by Merry Farmer
“Martin explained my position and got me out of trouble.” He said a quick prayer of thanks to his old friend. “When we reached Philadelphia, he officially set me free. More than that, he provided for my education. You see, at that time, Philadelphia was one of the only cities in the nation that had an institute of higher learning for freedmen, one set up by the Quakers.”
“How forward-thinking of them.” Honoria smiled. “And for your friend to grant you your freedom.”
He glanced to her, returning her smile. “It was forward-thinking and wonderful, but it was also part self-preservation. Martin had run away from home too, you see. I could still have been captured as a fugitive slave and him as a criminal. Martin could only take so much money with him, so we shared lodgings while we both attended college and worked. We both studied law. We had each other’s back when the war broke out and Martin’s loyalties were questioned. Back then, a man who didn’t join the army was treated as miserably as a man of color trying to better himself.”
“I suppose he couldn’t join the army,” Honoria figured. “He was a citizen of the Confederacy living in the Union, right?”
“That’s how Martin justified it, yes. But he was hated for it.” Solomon himself had resented the way the man who had more or less saved his life was treated. He rushed on. “The war ended, we both graduated, and both of us found jobs. It was easier for Martin. He took up work with a firm in New York City, and he’s still there today.”
“Oh! I’m delighted to hear he’s still doing well.”
Solomon nodded. “We write to each other, but he has a family now and my life has changed so much. It began to change in earnest when I moved to Cincinnati to take up the only position working in the law that I could find. Mind you, they wouldn’t let me sit the bar exam.”
“They wouldn’t?”
He grinned at her faith in him and her innocence over matters of prejudice. “No. I ended up working at a clerk in the office of a law firm that worked mostly with business clientele. One of our clients was a certain Mr. Howard Haskell. He was young and untested. The office didn’t take either of us seriously, so I was assigned to his account.” He grinned. “That twist of fate might have been even more important to the course of my life than being born the son of a house slave.”
“Really?”
They were nearing the top of Main Street, close to the bank and the intersection with Elizabeth Street. More and more people craned their necks to get a look at them as they passed. A few of their friends waved.
“I learned about the law in college, but Howard taught me all about money. And believe me, there’s no one you want to learn about money from more than Howard. He encouraged me to invest my savings, and when that investment bore fruit, he guided me in ways to reinvest the profits. I studied everything he did, mimicked it, and before long, I had more money than anyone at my law firm would have dreamed of.”
“How clever.” Her smile of pride warmed his heart.
“What was even more clever was not letting on that I had so much money,” he continued. “I kept that a closely guarded secret. It wasn’t until Howard sent me a letter inviting me to come help settle Haskell and to be its banker that I let on to anyone how much my investments had earned or who was the holder of most of the stocks and notes that I had. I only really started living this kind of life when I arrived here.”
“Because no one here would care one way or another about the fortune that a man of color made for himself,” Honoria finished his thought. Her logic surprised him. Maybe he’d underestimated her after all. But of course he had. Honoria was far more intelligent than anyone suspected.
“The beauty of Haskell is that it was invented out of Howard’s vision for the world he wanted to live in,” he continued. “Howard is unique in that he sees people for their virtues, not their appearance. So when you tell me you’re worried about what your father might do, I share your concern, but I have faith in this uncommon spot that Howard has created.” He placed his free hand over hers in his elbow. “I have faith that even if the worst attempts are made, there are enough people here who would stand up for me, stand up for us, that it would all come to nothing.”
“I can only pray that you’re right,” Honoria said. The lines furrowing her brow smoothed and her smile warmed. “You’ve led quite a life, Solomon Templesmith.”
Solomon chuckled. They’d reached the corner of the hotel, so he slowed his steps. “No more so than anyone who has wanted to end up in a better place than he started.”
She paused and shifted to take his hands. “Whatever else, whatever troubles might come our way, I’m proud to be married to you.” Her words made him feel like the tallest man in the world, even when she added, “For however long we have.”
He didn’t want to think about this beautiful thing between them ever coming to an end, so instead he focused on their more immediate problem. “Honoria, if your father continues to be a problem, if you ever feel unsafe or anxious—”
“Well, lookie here, boys.”
The timing of the sour call from further down Elizabeth Street was so shockingly, bitterly apropos that Solomon winced. He let go of Honoria’s hands and turned to face the approaching threat. Four men in the dusty clothes of ranch hands were strolling toward them.
“It’s the boss’s daughter and her n— husband,” another of the men barked.
“No,” Honoria whispered.
Solomon shifted to block her from the snarling ranch hands. “What do you boys want?”
“Boys?” The first one, Ted, snorted. Solomon recognized each of the men who worked for Rex. They kept their money in his bank, after all.
“Where do you get off calling us boys?” Kyle, the one who had called him the dirty name, followed.
“Seems like if anyone here should be called ‘boy’ it’s a jumped-up slave like you,” Wayne added, then spit.
People were beginning to stir on the hotel’s front porch. Some of them strained forward to watch the confrontation while others dashed inside.
“The term wasn’t meant to give offense,” Solomon explained in measured tones. “Now if you will all excuse me, I’ve come to take my wife to dinner at the hotel.” He touched the brim of his hat. The deadly expression he wore was the real message, though.
Rex’s hands didn’t get that message.
“I always thought the boss’s daughters were fine ladies,” Keith, the last one to speak but, in Solomon’s experience, the most vicious, said. “I had no idea that this one was a darkie-loving little light-skirt.”
A few of the observers on the porch gasped in offense. Honoria swayed closer to Solomon, grasping for his hand. It was a good thing she did. If he’d had his hands free, Solomon would have punched the man’s foul mouth so hard that he’d rattle when he walked from all the teeth in his stomach.
“You need to beg my wife’s pardon,” he said in a low, dangerous voice.
“I ain’t begging for nothing from a filthy tart.” Keith narrowed his eyes, stepping closer.
“Ignore him,” Honoria whispered, squeezing Solomon’s hand. “He’s too stupid to bother fighting with.”
“I’m not asking you to apologize,” Solomon growled. “I’m telling you.”
“Boss wouldn’t like it if you got his daughter into a fight,” Ted murmured.
“Oh, I don’t think he’d mind at all,” Keith seethed, his eyes never leaving Solomon’s. “He’s madder ’n a hornet in Hades about this one spoiling herself. Seems to me he’d thank us for doing him the favor of saving him the trouble of dealing with it.”
“If anyone will be dealt with, it will be you gentlemen,” Solomon said. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Theophilus Gunn rushing out to the porch. “Only a blackguard insults a lady.”
The four hands laughed and traded sneers. “You have no idea what Rex’s got in store for you,” Kyle said.
A bolt of alarm hit Solomon’s gut. These four were child’s play to deal with. If Rex truly was in
tent on some sort of revenge, it could be a problem. Judging by the smug grins that his cronies wore, he’d be lucky if he could provide Honoria with the peace he’d intended to.
“Rex Bonneville had better think twice about causing trouble,” he said, knowing his words would fall on deaf ears. “He might find that he brings more harm to himself than to me.”
As expected, the four men snorted and guffawed.
“Mr. Templesmith,” Gunn spoke from the top of the stairs. “Your table in the restaurant is ready for you and your lovely wife whenever you’re ready for it.”
The sharp look for Rex’s hands that accompanied the otherwise mild comment was as dangerous as if Gunn had pointed a rifle at each of them. No one in town was quite sure what it was about the mild, white-haired man, but that unnamable something marked him as a man no one wanted to mess with. Keith and the others lost some of their swagger as they shifted as far away from Gunn’s stare as they could.
“You ain’t heard the last of this,” Keith growled as he passed Solomon and Honoria. The four men continued down Elizabeth Street, likely heading to either the Silver Dollar saloon or Bonnie’s place. Wayne spit near Solomon’s feet as he passed.
Because he missed, Solomon ignored him. He slid his arm around Honoria’s waist and ushered her up the hotel stairs to where Gunn stood.
“See,” Honoria whispered. “This was why I was worried. This is exactly what my sisters were talking about.”
Solomon shook his head. “I can handle bullies like those four.”
“But can you handle Rex Bonneville?” Gunn asked, joining them to walk inside the hotel.
“Yes,” Solomon answered unequivocally.
Neither Gunn nor Honoria looked as certain.
“I shouldn’t have done this,” Honoria sighed, biting her lip. “I shouldn’t have put you in danger.”
“Sweetheart,” Solomon stopped her, turning to her and taking her face in his hands. “I am so glad that you did that there will never be words enough to express it. I made promises to you—when I asked you to marry me, when we stood in front of Rev. Pickering in the church, and in my heart every moment that we’ve been together since. I will cherish and make good on those promises.”
She smiled up at him, her eyes glassy with tears. Solomon wasn’t sure if he loved her smile or hated that the tears were there to mar it.
“You’re a good and noble man, Solomon,” Gunn cut in from the side. “But do you think you might want some sort of protection until the situation resolves? I could arrange for some old associates to come to town to monitor your house and business.”
Solomon’s brow flew up at the suggestion—not just because Gunn was generous for offering it, but because he knew people who could act as bodyguards in the first place. The mysteries surrounding the man would fill a library.
“No,” he said at last. “I can take care of myself.”
“Are you sure?” Gunn asked. The same question was in Honoria’s eyes.
Solomon turned his head to study his wife for a moment. “Yes,” he answered at last. “There’s nothing those hooligans could do that I fear. And as for Rex, let him do his worst.”
Chapter 8
Honoria had no appetite for her supper, even though it looked and smelled delicious. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d done something far worse than she’d ever done by thinking only of herself and putting Solomon in danger with this marriage. No matter how much he protested that that wasn’t the case. In fact, the only thing that unraveled the tension in her muscles and made her forget there was any sort of lingering danger was when Solomon took her home, picked out a book, and snuggled on the sofa with her so that they could read together.
But by the time morning rolled around, the worries were back threefold.
“I swear to you, Honoria, it will be all right,” Solomon told her as they sat across the breakfast table from each other.
Honoria dragged her troubled expression up to meet his confident one. She’d barely touched the blueberry pancakes she’d made, though Solomon had scarfed down so many that she wasn’t sure where he was putting them all. At least that thought smoothed away part of the rough edges around her heart.
“I mean it.” He reached across the table, taking her hand.
His expression turned stern and thoughtful for a moment. He truly was a beautiful man. Even frowning, the strong lines of his cheekbones and jaw made him stand out. He’d only just shaved, so the planes of his cheeks were smooth. Honoria caught herself wanting to do nothing but stare at him all day.
If Solomon noticed the hot blush that came to her cheeks at the thought, he didn’t let on. “I have an idea,” he said.
Honoria sat straighter. “Oh?”
Certainty made him seem twice as large and solid as he was. “Yes. Why don’t you come to the bank with me today?”
“Me? To the bank?” Actually, the thought thrilled her.
“You’re worried about me, and something tells me you won’t rest easy until you see that I’m not in any danger. Furthermore, I could teach you how a bank works. I’ll even teach you how to work at the teller’s window, if you’d like.”
The burst of joy that filled her was completely unexpected. “Like a job? I’ve never had a job before.”
Solomon grinned. “Well, here’s your chance.”
It didn’t take much more convincing than that. He was right to think that she would feel better if she saw that he wasn’t in any danger at his bank. They cleaned up from breakfast together, then Honoria went upstairs to fix her hair and to make sure she looked bank-ly for the day.
Her confidence was shattered all over again as they walked to the bank. As they headed up Main Street, there was already a small crowd of rough-looking men loitering by the front door.
“It’s nothing,” Solomon assured her. “Sometimes people who need to make a deposit or a withdrawal arrive before I do.”
Maybe, but one look told Honoria that the men waiting worked for her father. All except for Cody and Mason Montrose. The two brothers stood on either side of the door with their arms crossed. They didn’t have weapons as far as Honoria could see, but after everything Mr. Gunn had said before supper the night before, she wondered if they were there at his request.
“Morning, gentlemen.” Solomon tipped his hat to the Montrose brothers and Rex’s workers as he escorted Honoria through them. “The bank will be open in just a moment.”
“It’d better be,” one of the ranch hands said. None of the men standing there were the ones they had encountered the night before. These ones were the grunt workers who Rex hired to do the menial jobs on the ranch. Honoria barely knew their names, but she knew their looks. None of it was reassuring.
“You need any help in there?” Mason asked as Solomon took out his key and unlocked the door.
Solomon arched his brow and replied, “I’ll let you know.”
Mason nodded.
“We’ll just be hanging around out here if you need anything,” Cody said, making it clear to the others that he had his eye on them.
“Thank you, boys,” Solomon said.
The lock clicked, and Solomon pushed open the door, whisking Honoria inside. He shut it firmly behind her.
“Mr. Templesmith, thank God you’re here!” Solomon’s assistant, Mr. Greeley, rushed forward from the long counter that served as the bank’s main transaction area.
Most banks had that area barred off from the front lobby, but there was nothing in Solomon’s bank to separate the customers from the bank employees. Honoria had never felt as though it was needed until now.
“Those men showed up just as I arrived to count the drawer this morning,” Mr. Greeley went on. “They don’t look too friendly.”
Solomon raised his hand and walked to the side of the counter, unlocking the gate and escorting Honoria through to the back part of the office. “They won’t cause any harm, Horace.” he assured him.
Mr. Greeley sent Honoria a wary look, as
if he knew exactly what had prompted them to be there in the first place. “Congratulations on your nuptials, Mrs. Templesmith,” he said, but without the enthusiasm one would have expected.
“Thank you,” Honoria answered graciously all the same.
“How soon will we be ready to open?” Solomon let go of Honoria’s arm and strode over to Mr. Greeley’s side. He peered over the man’s shoulder at the ledger that sat open beside a drawer of cash.
“Any time,” Mr. Greeley answered with a shrug. “We’ve got a reasonable amount of cash on hand. Not as much as usual, since we sent off that deposit to San Francisco.”
When Honoria frowned in confusion, Solomon turned to explain, “A bank is more than just a safe to lock money away in. Folks deposit their hard-earned cash with us, but instead of having it sit here, I invest it. The investments turn a profit, and that’s how I’m able to pay interest on accounts.”
“I see.” Honoria nodded, coming closer to get a look at Mr. Greeley’s ledger. It made sense, and any other day she would have been far more interested in the process.
“Haskell isn’t exactly a financial hub,” Solomon went on. “I have accounts in San Francisco and New York City, not to mention a wide portfolio of investments. Theoretically, we have enough money to—”
His explanation was cut off by loud rapping on the door. “Open up in there!” Someone shouted. “We want our money.”
Solomon tensed. Mr. Greeley looked as though he might jump out of his skin.
“Might as well do what they say,” Solomon sighed.
He took Honoria’s hand and walked her back to the large desk at the back of the room. Mr. Greeley swallowed and walked around the counter, through the locking gate, and over to the front door.
“I keep track of all of my investments and accounts in this book.” Solomon did his best to distract her by inviting her to sit at his desk and taking a huge ledger off of a shelf beside him, but it was no use. Honoria’s eyes and attention were firmly on the front door.
As soon as Mr. Greeley opened it, her father’s men pushed through. One of them nearly knocked Mr. Greeley over in the process. Mr. Greeley only barely managed to scuttle back through the gate—locking it loudly as he went—and around to his spot near the cash drawer before the burly man in front demanded, “Give me my money!”
