“I’ll walk with you. I imagine our meal will consist of leftover finger sandwiches and punch, don’t you?”
“I hope so. I loved the food at the reception but I didn’t eat much in case there wasn’t enough to go around. A lot of people showed up.”
“Free food is a big draw, isn’t it?” Shocked at her tactless comment, she clapped a hand over her mouth. Feeling uncharitable, she explained, “I shouldn’t have said that. I know most of the guests wanted to wish Angeline and Grady well.”
Ophelia giggled. “And free food didn’t hinder their good wishes.”
Chapter Twelve
On Monday, Cassandra walked to town harboring the hope of seeing Sam. He was nowhere in sight. She supposed he’d gone back to the ranch. At least he wouldn’t lose the job he appeared to love.
The thought comforted her somewhat because she had worried about him being fired for being in town so much. Still, her bruised heart pined for Sam’s lost love. The fact that he was unreasonable didn’t make her want him less.
She had put off answering Bart for days. His kiss had repulsed her and his treatment had alarmed her. He wasn’t the kind of man she could ever love. Fondness she could live with, but she felt none for the banker.
Although she had never accepted his proposal, apparently he thought she would. She had to see him and settle things between them. Taking a deep breath, she decided there was no time like the present.
Inside the bank for the first time, she peered around. She supposed a bank had to look prosperous in order to inspire confidence in the public. Tucker Bank certainly filled that order.
Walls were mahogany with moldings dividing panels. Western paintings hung on the walls and she wondered about the artists. The floors were hardwood, oiled and swept free of dust. Barred windows admitted light.
She was surprised to see an armed guard near the door, but then she recalled the recent attempted robbery. Two tellers stood at windows. The atmosphere seemed to demand that customers come and go quietly.
She walked up to a teller whose nameplate said “Weldon Capps, Chief Teller”.
“I don’t have an appointment but I’d like to see Mr. Tucker. Would you tell him Miss Bradford is here?”
Mr. Capps man nodded and walked to rap at a door. He opened it slightly and spoke then returned. “He asked you to come right in.” He held open the counter-high gate.
“Thank you.” She walked to the door the teller had left ajar and entered Bart’s office, closing the door behind her.
Bart rose from behind a massive desk and came to greet her. He took her hand. “My dear Cassandra, how nice to see you.” He led her to one of two upholstered chairs in front of his desk.
She sat and arranged her skirts. “Was your meeting a success?”
His face fell and he sat in the adjoining chair. “Not at all. Only one man agreed mine was a good plan. The other men simply lack vision and my business acumen.”
“And what was your plan?”
“If we all agreed to use the same interest rates and my guidelines for issuing loans, we would profit because borrowers wouldn’t go to another bank if they didn’t like the terms.”
She was appalled. “Is that fair? I thought monopolies were frowned on by most people.”
He dismissed her question with a wave of his hand. “Nonsense, a monopoly isn’t illegal. Besides, six banks doesn’t make one. But enough about business. Have you come to set our wedding date?”
She took a deep breath. “On the contrary, Bart, I’ve come to tell you I can’t marry you.”
His face turned red. “What do you mean? Are you marrying Samuel Drummond?”
She shook her head. “He no longer wants to wed me. I’m sorry, but I’m in love with Sam even though he has rescinded his proposal. I’d hoped to marry for love. Now I don’t know what I’ll do.”
He leaped to his feet. “You would choose a cowman or no one over marriage to me? You are hardly as intelligent as I thought. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
She rose. “Certainly, Bart. I hope we can remain friends.”
His eyes narrowed. “Friends? After you deceived me? After I introduced you as my fiancée? I think not. I sincerely hope you never need a loan, Miss Bradford, for I won’t approve one for you.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way. Good day.” With as much dignity as she possessed, she left the office and the bank.
Once outside, she took a deep breath. She was burning bridges right and left. Soon, she’d be lucky if anyone in the county spoke to her.
She walked toward the church, but changed her mind. Angeline and Grady were newlyweds and didn’t need her burdening them with her problems. Perhaps a long walk would help her nerves.
After she reached the end of town, she turned and ambled toward Lydia’s home. People nodded or spoke and she wished them good morning. Her mind was far away though, forming a plan.
At Lydia’s, she spoke to those in the parlor but went her room and retrieved a sheet of paper. The stationary had belonged to Arabella Heathington and was personalized with her name in the upper right corner. Cassandra had cut off the portion with Arabella’s name and had used some of the sheets to write Mrs. Long and Trenton.
She rejoined her friends in the parlor and sat at a small lady’s desk there.
Rachel sauntered over. “Writing a letter?”
“I’m listing all the bachelors in town. I don’t want to marry Bart Tucker. Sam Drummond has decided he doesn’t want to marry me. So, I’m going to try striking up a friendship with other men and see if one leads anywhere.”
Rachel pointed to a name. “Please strike him off, Cassandra. I’m sweet on him.”
She drew a line through the name. “I don’t want to intrude on anyone else’s romance.”
Prudence and Lorraine each asked her to cross out a man.
Ophelia was curious but, not surprisingly, didn’t indicate a choice. She pointed at Vadim Kozlov’s name. “He has a girl in Poland and is saving to bring her here.”
Cassandra crossed him off. Remembering how the sheriff often visited Lydia and that they always sat near one another at events, she crossed off Adam Pender’s name.
Rachel tapped a finger on her chin. “We’ll have another reception this weekend. You can launch your plan then.”
“I have nine names and I don’t want to wait. If I see one of them, I’ll drop hints. Perhaps I’ll be asked on a picnic or to dinner.”
Ophelia hugged her shoulders. “Good luck. I hope your dreams come true.”
Bitterly, she said, “No chance of that. Sam no longer wants me.”
Rachel leaned against the wall beside the desk. “You shouldn’t give up on Sam. I’m sure he loves you.”
Cassandra met Rachel’s dark eyed gaze. “If so, he certainly has an odd way of showing me he does. He thinks I lied to him, but I didn’t. I omitted details, but so did he.”
Prudence asked, “Does this mean you aren’t interested in the banker?”
“I broke off with him this morning. He was not only upset, he was rudely dismissive afterwards. Not heartbroken, but his pride was damaged.”
“Too bad. He’s nice looking and definitely could keep his wife in style.”
Cassandra tapped the pen staff against her chin. “That’s true but the drawback I see is she’d be married to him.”
The girls laughed.
Deciding she’d been too harsh, she added, “But, don’t let me put any of you off if you’re interested in Bart Tucker. Each of us probably has different requirements in a husband.”
Her friends returned to their seats on the settee and chairs and resumed their handwork. Cassandra wasn’t in the mood to crochet, knit, sew, or embroider. She needed action, to be moving.
She folded her list and slipped the paper into her pocket. Now she’d listed prospects she wanted to test her theory. Calling goodbye to her friends, she left to walk to town again.
A couple of the men on her list were too old
for her preference. As she passed the combination sheriff’s office and jail, she saw the deputy leaving.
She offered a coquettish smile. “Good morning, Deputy Stanton. Aren’t we having lovely weather?”
He gazed up and then smiled at her. “Going to rain this afternoon. Just checked the barometer.”
“Thank you for warning me. I’ll get my errands done before noon.”
Could she feel any more a fraud? She wasn’t sure she could go through with her plan. Not that she would ever be one, but she felt like a harlot enticing a customer.
Quickly, she crossed the street and went into the mercantile. Let the deputy believe she really did have errands.
Josephine stopped stocking a shelf and came to greet her. “Feeling better today?”
“Not really, but I’m not a soggy mess this morning. I was out for a walk and stopped by to say hello.”
“I’m ready for tea, how about you?”
Cassandra sighed. “I’d love a cup.” She followed Josephine through the curtain that led to the stock room.
At one side, a kettle steamed on the potbelly stove.
Josephine measured tea into a teapot then poured hot water over the leaves. “I had water warming and intended to have a cup or two soon.” She set a pitcher of milk and sugar on the table then gathered cups, saucers, and cookies.
“You have a nice arrangement here. I wondered how you managed the long hours with such good humor.”
“I love the business—and Michael, of course. I never dreamed I could be so lucky.” She reached across the small table and squeezed Cassandra’s hand. “I’m sure things will work out for you if you give Sam time to see what a mistake he’s made.”
“I’ve given up. Isn’t it odd? You didn’t want to marry and you have. I wanted to and it appears I may never have the chance.”
“True I thought I didn’t trust men, especially those in politics. Michael proved me wrong, and I thank God every day for my good fortune. Now, what are you doing to change things in your life?”
Cassandra explained about Bart Tucker and the list and how flirting had made her feel.
Josephine laughed. “I don’t know how to flirt either. Fortunately, with so few women in Tarnation, the art isn’t necessary.” She sobered. “Really, Cassandra, don’t do anything rash. Sam will come around in time.”
She set down her cup and met her friend’s gaze. “That’s what everyone says, but I’m not so sure.” She shook her head. “If he doesn’t, I can’t stay here. I have only a few dollars so I’ll have to sign up as a mail-order bride.”
Josephine grabbed the edge of the table. “No! What if you ended up with someone like Bart Tucker or Martin Traveland?”
Running her finger around the rim of her cup, Cassandra gazed at her friend. “I know that’s a possibility, Josephine, but I can’t live with Lydia forever. Besides, my heart actually hurts when I see Sam. Remaining in Tarnation means we’d occasionally cross paths. I don’t think I could bear the pain. If he married someone else, I’d be completely destroyed.”
Josephine slapped the table. “He won’t marry anyone else. Everyone can see he loves you. He’s just stubborn. Let him simmer a while until he comes to his senses.”
Cassandra rose and set her cup and saucer in the sink. “Thank you for the tea and advice. I’ll give your counsel thought.”
“See that you do. You’re a friend and I don’t want to lose you.”
“No wonder we think of you as our unofficial leader. I mean after Lydia. We all looked to you for guidance on the way here and until you married. I guess we still do or I wouldn’t be here right now.”
“That’s a lovely thing to say, but you’re not giving yourself enough credit.”
As they were leaving the back room, Cassandra came face to face with Sam talking to Michael Buchanan. She stopped in her tracks and stared at Sam.
His face remained a solemn mask. A flash of longing in his beautiful brown eyes was soon gone. With a nod, he acknowledged her, but said nothing.
Cassandra quickly looked away. “I-I’d better hurry back to Lydia’s. Dinner will be served soon.” She hurried from the store.
***
Sam watched his Cassie walk away from him. He wanted to call out to her to wait, but he couldn’t. What the hell was wrong with him?
Hands on her hips, Josephine glared at Sam. “How can you be so cruel to a woman who loves you? I know you love her in return, yet you’re acting like an ass.”
Michael placed a hand on her arm, but she was mad and ignored his caution.
Sam’s hands were on the counter and he leaned forward. “You’re not my mother, Josephine.”
“You’re right there. If I were, I’d box your ears for the way you’re acting.”
Sam shook a finger at her. “Now listen, no one—”
“Stop, both of you.” Michael held up his hands. “Josephine, you have no right to chastise Sam. His love life is his business. And Sam, no one shakes a finger under my wife’s nose. Now drop the subject.”
Josephine crossed her arms. “But Michael, Cassandra is my friend and Sam’s making her miserable.”
“She’s my friend as well just as Sam is our friend, too. You let them work out their problems without us.” He smiled at Sam. “Even when we think one of them is wrong.”
Sam crossed his arms. “Hell, everyone in town is mad at me. I might as well go home.”
Michael shook his head. “And leave the banker a clear shot?”
Sam frowned at Michael. “If she wants Tucker, she’s welcome to him.”
Josephine smiled, apparently at his discomfort. “She doesn’t and told him so. He didn’t take it well. Said he hoped she never needed a loan because he wouldn’t approve one.”
Sam appeared incredulous. “Why, that lowdown polecat. I ought to punch him in the nose.”
Michael chuckled. “From what I hear, she can do that herself. Heard she handled a drunk a couple of weeks ago without assistance.”
A wry grin spread on Sam’s face at the memory of his Cassie in action. “That’s true. I was about to go to her aid, but she had the man writhing on the street before I could help. Reckon she can take care of herself.”
Josephine tilted her head and smiled. “I hope so because she’s thinking of becoming a mail-order bride.”
Sam’s stomach dropped to his knees, “What? Why would she do a fool thing like that? No telling who she’d end up with.”
Josephine shrugged and offered an innocent expression. “What choice does she have? You can see how she couldn’t avoid running into the man she loves—meaning you—so she has to leave town. I wonder how far away a mail-order marriage will take her? I sure will miss her.”
Sam started to point a finger at her but Michael opened his mouth. Before Michael said anything, Sam thought better of his action and shoved his hands into his pockets.
His chest hurt and he couldn’t take a deep breath. “You’re joking with me. She wouldn’t really sign up with one of those places.”
Josephine nodded toward the stock room. “Just this morning over tea she said she would. She thinks that’s the only choice she has left. After all, she hardly wants to become a permanent dependent of Lydia’s.”
Sam shook his head. “That’s the most idiotic idea I ever heard. This whole situation is making me crazy. I’m going to the hotel. May stop and buy me some whiskey on the way there.”
Michael came around the counter and clapped Sam on the back. “Never known you to escape into a bottle. Don’t start now, my friend. Once there, it’s hard to climb out.”
He shook off his friend’s hand but conceded. “Yeah, yeah. Maybe a nap will help.”
Sam left the mercantile and stomped down the boardwalk to the hotel. Danged if his life didn’t smell like an outhouse. He saw Tucker leave the bank and walk toward the café.
Detouring so he met the banker, he stopped in front of him. “What do you mean telling Cassie you wouldn’t give her a loan if she nee
ded one?”
Tucker leaned in to his face, only the shorter man’s nose was even with Sam’s Adam’s apple. “What business is it of yours what I tell her or anyone else? You’re the one who’s too stupid to marry her and she’s so stupid she actually cares. What she sees in you is beyond me.”
“You don’t talk about her, you hear? I hear you use her name and I’ll clean your clock.”
Tucker stabbed a finger in Sam’s chest. “Who do you think you are, Drummond? You’re nothing but a backwards cowboy. I graduated from Princeton. My family is well known in Philadelphia and all over Pennsylvania.”
Sam knocked his finger away and leaned almost nose to nose. “Listen here, little man. I don’t care who your family is or what anyone thinks of them. I’m telling you to be respectful of Cassandra Bradford or I’ll pound you into the ground.”
Adam edged between the two men. “That’s enough, gentlemen. Sam, head over to the hotel. Tucker, if you’re on your way to lunch get going. Otherwise, go back to the bank.”
The banker said, “Drummond started it.”
Sam grimaced. “You sound like a kid crying to his mommy.”
Adam grabbed each man by the arm. “Do I have to arrest both of you? How’d you like to be locked in the same cell for disturbing the peace?”
Tucker jerked his arm free. “I’m going to eat lunch.” He pushed through bystanders and stalked toward the café.
That’s when Sam realized he and Tucker had had an audience. Great. Everyone in town knew his business.
Adam gestured to the crowd that had gathered. “Okay, folks, nothing to see here. Go about your day.”
After the onlookers had dispersed, the sheriff nudged Sam. “Too bad I had to break it up before you punched him, but that’s my job. You steer clear of him, all right?”
“Yeah, I hate the sight of him. See you later, Adam.”
Sam crossed the street and went into the hotel. Now that Tucker had mentioned food, he was hungry. When he claimed his key, he asked Lemuel, “Can you send for me a meal and have it brought to my room?”
“Whatever you need. Won’t be long, I’m sure.” Lemuel summoned Ulysses Goodrich to run the errand.
Cassandra (Bride Brigade Book 3) Page 10