A Sensible Arrangement (24 page)

“Yes, sir,” the man called back, drawing the carriage to a halt. Jake jumped out and went to where the boy was announcing the headlines and waving a newspaper in each hand.

“I'll take one,” Jake said. The boy exchanged the paper for coin and continued hawking the news.

Jake returned to the carriage and read the paper as Samson headed for home. One headline caught his attention:
Big Failure
in America.
He read the first paragraph.

The Chamberlain Investment Company, of Denver, the largest real estate company in Western America, has suspended payment. The liabilities exceed $2,250,000.00.

Neither Morgan nor Keystone had said anything about this, but Jake knew it had been anticipated and would send the city spiraling further into fear. He blew out a heavy breath and continued to read the article. Elsewhere in the paper, Jake read of hundreds of people demanding the governor grant them audience to discuss what was to be done about Colorado's severe depression.

Samson opened the door to the carriage before Jake even realized they had stopped. He looked out at the tall man and shook his head. “The times are truly getting worse, Samson. I wonder, do you have family somewhere?”

“I gots me a sister in Kansas City.”

Jake climbed down and looked up to meet the man's questioning look. “I may very well need to let you go, and if so, I want to be able to send you to family if need be.”

Samson smiled. “Don't you go worrying about me none. The good Lord done already took care of my needs.”

Jake looked at the man. He seemed genuinely unconcerned. “Aren't you worried?”

“Sakes, no. What good would that do me? Been without money all my life and don't 'spect this time around gonna make a bit o' difference. I'll jes go on like before.”

“But what will you do if I have to let you go?”

Samson shrugged. “Good Lord ain't told me that yet, 'cause you ain't let me go.”

Jake smiled. “I suppose that makes sense. I have to say, I wish I had more of your faith in the matter.”

“You don't go gettin' faith by wishin' it, if you pardon
my saying so, sir. The Good Book say that ‘Faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the word of God.'” He smiled again.

“Thank you, Samson. I think I needed to hear that. It's easy enough to hear the world crying out its problems.” He held up the newspaper. “People are only too happy to bemoan all that's going on these days. I guess I need to put that aside and put my mind on the Bible.”

“Yes, sir,” Samson said, climbing back atop the carriage. “You can't go wrong by lookin' to the good Lord.”

Jake knew the man was wiser than he'd ever given him credit for. Oh, to have faith like Samson—not to worry about the future or where he'd get the money to feed and care for his people. To stop fretting over whether he'd ever get back to Texas. If God wanted him there, then surely God would make a way for it to happen.

I want to leave it
all in your hands, Lord
. Jake looked heavenward. “Help me to have faith—to trust you more.”

“I've asked Morgan to meet us here,” Mr. Keystone told Jake. “I had the opportunity to do some further digging on your discovery of the duplicated gold certificates. Unfortunately, what I've found leads us to a major betrayal.”

Jake frowned, his brows knitting together. “What do you mean . . . betrayal?”

Keystone shook his head. “I mean that there was a great deal more to this than you can imagine. By my own calculations, it must have been going on for several years, and there is no way of knowing to what extent it will affect this banking institution. Or for that matter, our country.”

“I don't exactly follow you. What did you find?”

“Counterfeiting,” Keystone replied.

For a moment Jake said nothing. He sat down at his desk and considered the full implications. “Counterfeit gold certificates? It wasn't just an error.”

Keystone nodded. “I can't even begin to tell how far-reaching it is or who all might be involved. I met with Morgan and filled him in on everything I knew—that's why he's coming here today.”

“I don't understand.” Jake leaned back in his chair. “It would have to be an awfully large group of folks to pull something like this off—wouldn't it?” His drawl thickened. “Seems to me that it couldn't be handled by just a man or two.”

“Exactly.” Keystone pounded the arm of the chair. “That's why this is a betrayal of the most serious sort. This would have to involve not only men on the outside, but obviously men on the inside.”

“And the only inside man who could have been responsible,” Mr. Morgan said, entering the office unannounced, “was George Chesterfield.”

Jake rose, but Morgan waved him to return to his seat. Taking the chair beside Keystone, Morgan sat stiffly. “Chesterfield,” Morgan continued, “is the only one who would have had access to the original gold certificates—besides me, of course.”

“You mentioned that the night he was killed, he was supposed to be transporting certificates, didn't you?” Jake asked.

“Yes. It was presumed they were lost in the robbery. But now, according to what you've told me, it would seem they weren't in the satchel, which leads us to this question: Where are those gold certificates?”

Keystone nodded. “And how many counterfeits were created?”

“And how much of the original gold has been redeemed without the actual owner realizing the loss?” Jake threw in. The entire matter was a colossal mess. It would most certainly ruin Morgan Bank.

“We must handle this discreetly,” Mr. Morgan continued.
“I can tell by the look on your face, Mr. Wythe, that you've already come to realize the ramifications. We cannot, under any circumstances, let this become public knowledge.”

“But how will we keep it quiet?” Jake asked. “People are already clamoring to redeem as much as they can for gold. No one believes in paper or silver—it's all about the gold.”

“Granted, but we have put an end to that. We must have some measures in place to keep the country from falling into bankruptcy. And now, with this matter of counterfeit gold certificates, I hesitate to even stir the pot for fear of what might rise to the surface.”

Jake looked at the newspaper on his desk. “What will happen once the Senate finally approves the repeal of the Sherman Silver Purchase Act?”

“Mass chaos. The panic will only deepen,” Morgan promised. “The stock exchange crashes back in May and June will pale to the problems we will see. Already thousands of businesses have collapsed and banks have closed. It's only the beginning, Mr. Wythe. Mark my words.”

Jake nodded. The hopelessness of the future was made all the more clear with each conversation he had with Morgan. He seriously considered cashing out what he could of his savings, letting the house go back to the bank, and hightailing it back to Texas. Of course, what would they do there? People were hurting in Texas just as they were everywhere else—though maybe not as much as Colorado, which had come to depend on silver as a standard.

“I'm here today because we have no choice, Mr. Wythe. There is to be absolutely no cash given out—no silver exchanged for gold. Nothing but loan certificates that can be used in lieu of cash. If the people ask why this is happening,
remind them the president has caused this fuss and nonsense. The collapse of this country rests on his shoulders.”

Jake considered the matter another moment before speaking. “And what of you gentlemen? What will you do to weather this storm?”

Morgan looked at Keystone, then back to Jake. “I can't speak for Josiah, but for myself, I took measures long ago when I saw the problems that were upon us. I would imagine most sensible men did.”

“At least if they were wealthy enough to have something set aside,” Keystone countered.

“But most of the savings in this bank were put here by men who were poorer than you two,” Jake replied. “Like myself. They put their savings here, hoping for a future.”

“Your future is safe enough, Mr. Wythe,” Morgan declared. “Have I not taken good care of you, my boy? I can see that this situation might seem overwhelming to you, but I assure you that so long as you are in my employ, you needn't worry.”

Jake nodded. “And I appreciate all you've done. But what happens when this bank folds and you no longer need my services? My savings are here just like every other depositor, and now you're telling me I can't have it.”

Morgan smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. “I suppose for the time, you are dependent upon me.”

Marty and Alice sat discussing the latest visit of Mr. Smith. “Will you write to your friends?” Marty asked.

“I suppose I must. After all, Mr. Smith brought up a good point. Where did my father's personal things go after the
sale of the house? I don't know why it never occurred to me to question it.”

“Shock and loss will do that to a mind,” Marty declared. “I know from personal experience. After Thomas died, I couldn't have managed such matters on my own. Hannah was the one who helped me and she made a very neat and orderly inventory of the things she packed away. It was a godsend, but I don't suppose everyone is quite as well organized as my sister.” She heaved a sigh. “Jake . . . Mr. Wythe believes that we should speak to the authorities about this.”

“But what can they do?” Alice questioned. “The man has threatened me—even struck me—but I don't know who he really is, nor can I tell them where to find him. We are at his mercy.

“If I just knew where that envelope was,” Alice said, “I would hand it over to him in a heartbeat—even knowing that it doesn't belong to him. I'm weary of the entire matter and desire only that this madness end. It took the life of my father and left me . . . like this. What more will it demand before it's settled?”

Marty wasn't used to seeing this side of Alice. For all the time she'd known the young woman, she'd been reserved but joyful. Now her fear and frustration were overriding any potential for happiness.

The sound of the clock chiming altered Marty's train of thought. It was nearly time for supper. Jake had plans to stay late at the bank, so Marty had already decided to take her meal upstairs.

“I'll leave you now,” Alice said. “I need to spend some time praying on this, and I know Mrs. Landry will be coming with your tray. She said she wanted to speak to you
about something, so I don't want to be here and make her uncomfortable.”

“Oh dear, that sounds most grave.”

Alice shrugged. “I really don't know what she wants to discuss, but she didn't seem upset. But happy or sad, I just don't feel up to answering her questions. She's as worried about this as you are, and I don't think talking about it more is going to help at this point.”

Marty nodded. She could understand Alice's desire to sequester herself away, but in the girl's departure, Marty felt all the more lonely. Ever since Jake had kissed her, she'd not been the same. Everything had changed with that kiss. It had awakened in Marty a desire and hope for a future she had never thought possible.

The day had been unbearably warm, but thankfully a nice breeze blew in through the open window now. Marty relished the fresh air and prayed that the evening would cool off considerably. Just then she heard a knock on the bedroom door, and Mrs. Landry entered with supper.

“Mrs. Wythe, I hope you have had a pleasant afternoon,” Mrs. Landry stated, placing the tray on the small table beside Marty.

“I have, and you?”

Mrs. Landry smiled and reached for the teapot. “I have enjoyed a very fine day, thank you, ma'am.” The housekeeper appeared quite content, even joyful. Perhaps she'd come to discuss something good, rather than bad, as Marty had worried.

“Alice tells me that you wish to speak to me about something.”

Mrs. Landry poured the tea and replaced the pot before
straightening. “Yes, there is an important matter I wish to discuss. I came to make an announcement and offer a request.”

“I see.” Marty nodded. “Continue.”

“Well, you see . . . Mr. Brighton and I . . . we . . .”

“Would like to marry?” Marty interjected.

Mrs. Landry's face flushed. She gave a little nod and smiled. “We would, Mrs. Wythe. He asked me just this morning. I've been fit to be tied waiting to discuss it with you.”

“What is there to discuss?” Marty asked, laughing in relief. “I'm delighted, and Mr. Wythe will be, as well. We've long thought the two of you belonged together.”

The housekeeper smiled but appeared completely flustered. “We plan to marry early next week, and that brings me to my request.”

“Please, whatever I can do to help make this happy occasion happen, I am very glad to assist.”

“Oh, there isn't anything you need to do, Mrs. Wythe. We simply . . . well . . . we wanted permission to . . . uh, share the same room once we are wed.”

Marty couldn't help but giggle. “Of course you may share the same room. Goodness, I would never keep two people in love from being together as they should be. Do you anticipate how this might work?”

Mrs. Wythe nodded. “Neither of our rooms is very large; however, there is a more spacious room that was designed to house four servants. It's at the far end of the third floor. I wondered if we might take that room.”

“Of course. I'm certain Mr. Wythe would approve. If I see him tonight, I will insist upon it, so feel free to start arranging it as you'd like.”

“Oh, thank you, ma'am. You have no idea how happy this has made me.”

Marty got to her feet and surprised the older woman by embracing her. “I think I do, and I'm glad to be a part of it. Please give Mr. Brighton my congratulations.”

“Oh, I will, Mrs. Wythe. I will.” Mrs. Landry started to hurry from the room, then halted. “I apologize, ma'am. I didn't uncover your supper.” She started back for the tray, but Marty waved her away.

“Never mind. I will see to it myself. You go and speak to Brighton now. Let him know how much we approve.” She smiled broadly and motioned the housekeeper to leave.

Once Mrs. Landry had gone, Marty pulled the cover from her supper plate. There rested a simple but adequate meal of roasted meat and potatoes. Mrs. Landry had included a thick slice of homemade bread, as well as a fruit tart that Mrs. Standish delighted in making.

Marty settled in to enjoy her meal, but all the while her thoughts wandered back to Mrs. Landry's announcement and Jake's kiss. It would seem the house was full of romantic hearts. She longed for Jake to throw off his fears as Brighton had. She longed for him to come home and tell her how much he wanted them to enjoy a real marriage—a true love.

Nibbling at the bread, Marty couldn't help but consider the older couple's future. There would no doubt be the same good-natured quibbling, but now they could kiss and make up at the end of every day. With a sigh, Marty wondered if it might ever be the same for her.

Tell him the
truth. Set yourself free.

The words echoed in her heart, and whether they were simply remnants of Marty's guilty conscience or the Lord
himself speaking to her, she didn't know. She did know beyond a doubt that until the truth of the ranch was disclosed, there would be no hope of a real marriage.

“But what do I do, Lord?” she asked, putting the bread aside to take up the teacup. “He's already so deeply distressed by the bank and all the problems they are facing. I can't bear for him to be disappointed—betrayed, angry—with me, as well.” She didn't know if he'd be able to trust and forgive her after hiding the truth for so long.

Marty knew that the only place she could go was to prayer and the Scriptures. She'd avoided both for such a time that now it felt like she was learning to walk all over again.

With the meal concluded, Marty picked up her Bible. Hannah had sent Marty to the Scriptures whenever a lie had been revealed. Marty was pretty sure she knew every verse in the Bible that dealt with truth or lies.