A Sensible Arrangement (13 page)

“No, this is fine,” Jake replied. “I was just curious as to why you brought Alice's situation into the conversation tonight.”

“Was that wrong of me?” she asked plainly.

“No. It wasn't a matter of right or wrong. I was just surprised.”

Marty shrugged. “I suppose I thought it intolerable that a man should be killed working for another and yet no one saw fit to see after his family. After all, these are men of means.”

“That doesn't make them charitable.”

“No, I suppose not, but it seems like common sense would place a reasonable obligation at their doorstep. Even on the ranch when a family man was killed or injured, we took care of the family. Even the single men were given proper care, and if they died, we helped arrange the burial and saw to it that their remains and final payment went to their folks.”

“That was because you and your family are good people,”
Jake said. “The world, unfortunately, isn't populated with only good people. Many are self-centered and focused solely on what profits them most.”

“Like Mr. Morgan and his friends?”

“I suppose so. But don't worry. Alice is welcome to work here as long as she likes. I'll even increase her pay if you tell me to.”

Marty smiled, and the warmth of her expression caused Jake to feel weak in the knees. She inspired emotions in him that he had believed long dead. He hadn't expected to have these kind of feelings for . . . his wife.

Jake looked at her for a long moment. She was far more beautiful than he'd allowed himself to realize. The delicate design of her face was like that of a Grecian goddess—at least the statues he'd seen of the same. But instead of cold marble, Marty was all flesh and blood. Jake reached out and touched Marty's long hair.

He grinned. “It's like silk.”

Marty said nothing, but her eyes widened, and Jake worried he'd gone too far. She didn't move, however, and this only seemed to entice him more. Reaching up, he put his hand against her cheek.

“Soft.”

Still she didn't speak or move. A million thoughts cut loose in Jake's mind, and there was no way to make sense of any of them. He wanted more than anything to kiss her, but something warned him that this would only cause rejection on her part. He had made her a promise. They had agreed to a marriage of convenience, and now he was threatening the security of that agreement. Forcing himself to step back, Jake took a deep breath.

“I just wanted you to know that I'll see to it that Alice is taken care of.” With that, he hurried back through the passageway to his room and closed the door behind him. Leaning hard against the wall, Jake berated himself for his lack of good sense.

“She didn't marry me for romance,” he whispered aloud. “I need to keep that in mind and not allow my heart to get broken . . . again.”

Movement outside the window caught Marty's attention. She'd just bent down to retrieve her book when she spied someone hurrying away from the house. Alice had mentioned someone sneaking around the stable—could this be the same man? She strained to catch another glimpse in the fading light, but the man was gone.

A glance at the clock showed it was nearly time for Jake to return from work. Marty determined to speak with him on the matter to see what he thought.

Jake . . . The thought of Jake and what had happened last Friday evening between them had plagued Marty for nearly a week. She could still feel his warm hand against her cheek. Still see the desire in his eyes. She had never expected to have a man look at her like that again. Furthermore, she hadn't wanted one to. Until now.

“I'm being silly,” she said aloud, straightening a piece of bric-a-brac on the nearest table. “We went into this arrangement fully aware that neither of us wanted a real marriage.”

But Jake's touch had made her remember how Thomas would reach for her, and Marty found that she ached for someone to hold her—to offer a hug and the reassurance that she was loved. She frowned. Love had only served to deepen her pain. Why would she want to experience that again?

Taking up her book, Marty snuggled into her favorite chair by the fire and began reading. She had to keep her mind occupied with something other than the way Jake had looked at her. The way she longed to have him look at her again.

Jake climbed down from the carriage, anxious to see Marty. She'd been on his mind all day. In fact, she had been in most of his thoughts all week. Ever since he'd caressed her hair and cheek, Jake had found it impossible to forget the way she'd made him feel.

She doesn
't know she made me feel that way. She would
no doubt be upset to learn the truth, so there
's no use in bringing it up. But maybe if
I brought it up . . . things might change.

Change wasn't likely, however. They had both agreed to the parameters of their arrangement, with no provision for change. Despite this, Jake bounded into the house with no other desire than to see his wife and hear about her day.

Maybe
I'm a hopeless romantic. Maybe I will always have
a penchant for falling in love with any woman with
whom I have more than a casual conversation.

“Mr. Wythe,” Brighton said, receiving him in the entryway. “Let me take your coat.” He helped Jake out of his overcoat
and took his hat. “There is a small matter that I should speak to you about. It can wait until after supper if you wish.”

“No, that's all right. What's the problem?”

Brighton nodded. “It would seem that the new groomsman found boot tracks in areas where no one should have been. He spied them coming from around the stable, which was the only reason he was intrigued to follow them. They led, I'm afraid, to the house windows on the south side.”

Jake considered the matter a moment. “And everyone is certain the tracks did not belong to any of the servants?”

“Yes, sir. The tracks were made by a man's very large boot. The print was even larger than Samson's.”

Rubbing his chin, Jake wondered what was to be done. “Does my wife know about this?”

“Yes, sir. It would seem she observed someone running away from the house. She couldn't get a good look, however. Also, she tells me that Miss Alice noted someone moving about the grounds the other day. It was thought that she was mistaken and that it was either myself or Samson, but that was not the case.”

“I'll talk to Marty about this,” Jake said. “Thank you for telling me. Keep your eyes open for anything unusual. I would guess it's probably someone looking for a house to rob. We need to be on guard.”

“Yes, sir.” Brighton moved toward the sitting room and pushed back the doors. “I believe you will find Mrs. Wythe in here.”

Jake left the foyer and crossed the sitting room to find Marty comfortably ensconced before the fire. She was wearing a tawny gold-and-cream-checked gown with brown trim. She looked up and set aside the book she'd been reading.

“I see you're hard at it again,” he said, pointing to the book. “What are you reading?”

“
The Picture of Dorian Gray
,” she replied. “It's quite unusual. It's about a man who sells his soul to retain his youth, while his picture ages instead.”

“Sounds intriguing. If I had the time, I would definitely give the book a try.” He rubbed his eyes.

“Yes. I'm used to having more to do,” she told him, sounding sad. “Sometimes I think I'm growing fat and lazy with all this idle time.”

Jake gave her a smile. “Well, you look quite lovely being idle, and you'll be well-read.” He plopped down on a red velvet chair near the fire. “Brighton tells me that someone has been sneaking about the grounds.”

Marty's blue-eyed gaze never left his face. “Yes, that's right. I saw a man, but I cannot give you much of a description. The groomsman saw tracks, as well.” Her voice lowered. “Alice saw someone a few days back, but I thought it was nothing. Now I'm not so sure.”

Stretching out his legs, Jake sighed. “We are people of means, and as things continue to worsen financially, there will no doubt be those who will seek to take what they can from our blessings.”

“Is it truly all that bad?”

“Worse every day, I'm afraid.” Jake felt weary from the long day and suppressed a yawn.
She'll think I'm bored with her, but nothing
could be further from the truth
.

“There are dozens of railroads in trouble—some have already folded, while others are trying their best to find a way to regain their profitability. And there's the second term of Grover Cleveland to face, as well as the aftermath of so many
labor strikes last year. It's all bound to catch up and take its toll.”

“So you figure that whoever was outside the window was looking to rob us?”

“That's my guess. I suppose I should hire someone to walk the grounds from time to time. Perhaps I could get a man who would be responsible for the gardens, and he could act as a guard. I hadn't figured to hire one until spring since Samson has been able to handle the snow removal.”

“No need to rush it,” Marty said. “Just buy me a double-barrel shotgun and I'll discourage window peepers.”

He chuckled at this but could tell by her expression that she was serious. “I would happily buy you most anything your heart desired.”

“Then a double-barrel shotgun is what I desire.”

“What about your revolver?” His grin broadened at the thought of her wielding the weapon. “Wouldn't that be good enough?”

Marty shrugged. “It does its job, but I find men to be far more intimidated when staring down the barrels of a loaded shotgun. Perhaps it's realizing that even a poor shot has difficulty missing with that kind of weapon. Tends to make men rethink their choices.”

Jake shook his head. “You amaze me. Just when I think I've come to know all there is about you, you surprise me. You are such a strong and capable woman—exactly the kind of Lone Star bride I'd hoped you'd be. You don't need anyone or anything.”

“I need that double barrel,” she replied with a hint of a smile.

He roared in laughter. “Then you shall have it. Goodness,
Marty, your reputation has already survived the stage rescue. I'm sure that being known for walking armed around the grounds of your fine Capitol Hill home won't damage your social standing a bit.”

Marty couldn't resist joining his laughter. “I honestly don't care what society thinks. I know full well how to protect what is mine. I won't have Alice worrying about another attack or Mrs. Landry wondering if someone is going to steal her linens when they're hanging out to dry.”

“You're a good mistress of the house, Marty, and you genuinely care about our staff. I think so many people treat their servants as unimportant. . . . I suppose that's why I enjoy the banter between Brighton and Mrs. Landry. I feel like they're just a part of my family.”

Marty grew thoughtful. “When I was growing up, we always had help around the house, but Juanita and Berto were also our friends—we even ate together. Will and Hannah didn't hesitate to seek their opinion or advice. I suppose our isolation and dependence on one another made a difference, but even here I have difficulty considering the staff nothing more than servants.”

Jake couldn't agree more. “We were the same. Our ranch had a great many people who worked in various jobs. My mother had a housekeeper and two maids, and it wasn't unusual at all for the four of them to quilt together or work in the garden side by side. They were more like sisters to her than employees. It's a different world in large cities and upper-class society. I saw it in California to be certain, and it's most likely no different back east. In fact, I think the folks living here are just doing their best to mimic those people.”

“Frankly, I don't believe their way of living is anything
to emulate. Don't get me wrong—I am greatly enjoying the luxury here.” She smiled and ran her hand down the front of her checked gown. “I've never had so many beautiful clothes, and my hands have never been this soft. Mrs. Landry and Alice have pampered and spoiled me. . . . But as I said earlier, I've become quite idle. And as my sister would contend, idle hands often lead to trouble.”

“Perhaps you could involve yourself in some of the local charities. Maybe ask Mrs. Morgan about it. Which reminds me: Despite concerns about the economy, Mr. Morgan is giving me a bonus. I can't say anything about it, however. The board is afraid if it comes to light, the other branch managers will be upset because they didn't receive one, as well.”

“That's wonderful news . . . I think. I know you've been working hard.”

“It puts me that much closer to one day having my own ranch.”

Marty frowned and looked away. “Was there a particular reason for your reward?”

Jake pushed back his dark blond hair and gazed upward at the ornate crown molding. “I have reviewed the bank books for the last three years and uncovered a number of problems. Most were poor bookkeeping and management mistakes, but there's also an amount of money that is missing. Strangely enough, it seems to change from time to time.”

“Change? What do you mean?”

He was touched that she genuinely seemed to care. He appreciated having someone intelligent to converse with—someone not related to the banking business. “The amount of the missing money is never the same. It changes. Sometimes it's one amount, and then the next time I check, it might be
higher or lower. I keep thinking it must have been a posting or accounting error, but I can't find it.”

“Perhaps someone is taking money and putting it back,” she said in a casual manner. “Then when they need more, they take it out again.”

Jake straightened and looked at his wife. “You know, you may be right. I've never heard of an embezzler who puts money back, but . . .” He fell silent. Nearly a year ago there had been a substantial amount of money missing—several hundred dollars. Then a few months later the balance was only off by ten or twenty. In fact, when the bank audit took place, the amount was so small that Morgan himself agreed that it was a simple error and made the books right and the auditor a little richer to look the other way. So maybe it was Morgan who'd borrowed the funds? But why would he need to?

Alice had just finished doing up the buttons on the back of Marty's shirtwaist when a knock sounded on the dressing room door. Alice hurried to answer it and found Mr. Wythe holding a long wooden box.

“Good morning, Alice.” He moved right past her without waiting for an invitation. “And how have you enjoyed your Saturday, wife?”

“We've been ever so busy,” Marty declared. “I've changed into my second ensemble and am ready to face another few hours of boredom before lunch is served. What about you?”