The First National Bank of San Francisco had responded favorably to his request for employment in their investment department. He felt that luck and good fortune were with him, and Thomas Messing’s invitation solidified his feelings.
On his arrival in Hartford, Frederick settled into a suite of rooms at Victoria House. The upscale hotel on Main Street was modest by his standards but comfortable enough. It would be his temporary home until the money he’d wired to himself arrived.
Yes, Messing and Stanford will be a brilliant starting point. He prepared to meet the rest of Thomas’s family. Frederick had grown weary of the man’s blatant referrals to his unattached daughter. He wasn’t ruling anything out to further his plan but wanted to be the judge of her first.
As he was about to leave for the Messing estate, he absently brushed by a stack of books near his dressing table, knocking one to the floor. It fell open, exposing a small, cream-colored envelope. Frederick picked it up. His name and the date of his departure were on the front. The handwriting belonged to Molly. The fact that she’d likely bribed one of the household staff to insert it into his private book collection irritated him. He tore it open to find a brief note inside.
My Dearest Frederick,
I miss you already. I wait impatiently for your return. What good this will be for you and our future! Think of me, as I will be thinking of you always. Your devoted, Molly
He ripped the paper in two and threw it into the fireplace. He had no time for her now.
Yet, if Thomas’s daughter were completely without merit, he would confess he’d been previously engaged to a young woman back in England all along.
The inevitable loomed over him this evening. His stomach ached at the prospect of having to marry someone below his standards but rallied his spirits with the thought of fulfilling his dreams.
~
The smell of roast beef pulled Jessica into the kitchen. Her brother was already there, and Winnie had to work around the siblings as they ate leftover ends of bread and speculated what this Mr. Moore might be like. Jessica leaned against the counter near the sink under the open window.
“Suppose we can’t understand a word he says? He could be a short, fat, stuffy sort of man. No, Father said he was tall, intelligent, and well mannered,” she remembered.
“Well, no matter, Jess. Your future husband will be impressed by you. You look very grown up tonight.”
Jessica felt exposed by his insinuation. She’d been pleased to learn that Will would join the family for dinner. Now she felt self-conscious. Could a man tell if a woman had been kissed? She cringed and swallowed hard on a crust of bread. Jessica left the kitchen, longing for the sanctum of her window seat and sketchpad.
Will joined her and their mother in the large parlor where most guests were greeted, but her father remained in his study, hiding from the preparations. Though an intimate dinner, Jessica noticed her mother had taken the extra effort to impress Mr. Moore. The table was set with their finest china and cutlery and Winnie wore a formal uniform, matching those worn by the hired servants. Most of these dinner parties were so staid. She took a deep breath and examined her dress. The night would be over soon, and she could return to her life.
As the time grew nearer to Mr. Moore’s arrival, her nerves teased her. The room felt smaller this evening. She stood behind the grand piano and tinkered with the keys. The open bay of windows gave little relief, the thick, cream-colored drapes barely moving.
“Sit down, Jessica.” Her mother patted the seat next to her on the couch. “You may play after dinner. I think that would make a good impression. A piece from Bach, or perhaps something from Mozart?”
“I prefer Strauss.” She wanted to play Stephen Foster’s “I Dream of Jeannie with the Light Brown Hair,” but that was a song she only dared when she was alone. Sitting down beside her mother on the walnut-framed chesterfield, she fidgeted with the silk bow at her waist. The deep-blue fabric she sat upon clashed with her yellow dress. She stood up again and went to the piano, not touching the keys.
Will looked into the broad, gold-framed mirror hanging over the grand fireplace mantle. The casualness of his hand passing through his hair made her jealous. If only it was so easy for her. He laughed sharply, as if reading her mind.
“What is it, William?” his mother asked.
Turning around, he said, “We look as if we’re waiting to meet the King of England.”
Before any of them could speak, the doorbell chimed. Her mother hurried out of the room and she heard her father’s voice. “Calm yourself, Beth.” Then they were both in the parlor. Jessica smoothed her bodice, fluffed the layers of fabric on the back of her skirt and straightened the gold panels in front. She stood by Will while her parents each took a seat in matching chairs by the window. They all stared at the room’s entrance.
Leaning toward her brother, she whispered, “I feel like a prize cow ready to be judged.”
“Well, Bessie, get ready for the show,” he replied out the side of his mouth.
Jessica made a face and they both laughed quietly. She moved to the entrance of the room to hear what she could from the foyer. It was difficult to see anything from where she stood, and she stretched her body to get a better view. Catching a glimpse of the evening’s help with Mr. Moore’s coat and hat, she thought she spied a pair of white gloves.
“Jessica! Stand back!” her mother implored.
The next voice was Winnie’s, presenting their guest.
Her mother floated across the room, her hand extended. “Mr. Moore, we are so pleased you could join us tonight.”
“Thank you so much for the kind invitation, madame.” His accent had a certain charm. He bent down and kissed her hand.
Glancing up at her brother for his reaction, she hoped he wouldn’t give her a fit of giggles. But instead, he was staring at his shoes, his face ashen. “Will?”
Her attentions went to their company, and she saw a young, handsome man before her. Knowing Mr. Moore was over ten years her senior, she was a little surprised. His cutaway coat revealed a slender figure, and his brown, curly hair complemented his hazel eyes. He was attractive. Their eyes met, and he lingered until she looked away. Her heart pulsated unnaturally.
Thomas made the introductions. “Frederick, may I present my son, William, and my daughter, Jessica.”
They exchanged polite greetings. A servant entered the room with a silver tray of canapés and the conversation began. Jessica listened, nibbling on a triangle of bread topped with black caviar. She disliked the fishy taste and smell, but she ate it with dignity, washing it down with several sips of champagne. As the evening progressed, she ignored Frederick’s glances, though it took some restraint for she was drawn to his manner and expression.
The men discussed the politics of the ongoing post-war agenda in Washington and the laws now being strictly instated in the West to control the Indian population. They talked about the financial problems facing the country and even covered the unlawful trade of gunrunning, her father ranting about the “filthy business.” She couldn’t care less about any of it, though she noticed her brother become flush and agitated when asked by Mr. Moore if he had heard about the “filthy business.” Her brother had his own opinions on most everything, yet he simply shook his head.
Frederick’s attention during dinner made Jessica uneasy. The July heat added to her discomfort. She hoped her politeness would not be construed as an invitation. He was far more than she had expected. His intelligent views and insights held her interest. He was a grown man, and he seemed to regard her as a grown woman. She liked the feeling and let it linger in her head, but only for a moment. Soon her mother was talking nonstop about her daughter’s standing in society, making Jessica feel as if she were on display. To her great relief, her mother changed the subject. “How is your Yorkshire pudding, Mr. Moore?”
~
The fabric of her dress draped over the chair Jessica sat in. The previous tension in the parlor was gone.
“Well, I’m happy that’s over. And I’m even more pleased Mother didn’t make me play for him.”
Her brother had already made his way to the green settee. His legs stretched out in front of him. “What do you think of your future husband, Jess?”
“Oh! What can Father be thinking? What do you think of him, Will?”
“I like him.”
“Mother seemed to like him.” Her eyes were filled with mischief.
“Good God, that was obvious!” They laughed at their secret. Will rose from his seat with a moan. “I’m meeting Jake in town tonight, so I’ll leave you to dream about your new beau.” He kissed the top of her head.
“You’re seeing Jacob?”
“Yes, why?”
“At the Palace?” Her voice was low and she glanced at the doorway.
“Jessica.” Will squeezed her arm. “That’s not a name to cross your lips ever again. Do you understand?”
“All right,” she said, pulling her arm away. “Father will be furious if he finds out.”
“Let him find out. Good night, Sister.”
Hurt and betrayed, she rallied at the thought of Jacob going there only to protect Will. Then she cursed her lack of freedom and envied her brother and cousin. It had become sadly apparent to her that she might never achieve the sense of ownership of the world they so casually took for granted. However, she knew her longing for that freedom would forever remain in her heart.
Chapter Ten
The barkeep set another drink in front of Jacob. He downed it and ordered another. What he and Jessica had done changed their relationship forever, and the implications of it weighed heavily on him. His love for her was making him careless. He had to go away–and soon.
Will appeared, a drink in his hand. “Sorry I’m late.” They clicked glasses as he sat down. “We had the famous Frederick Moore over for dinner. What a performance my parents put on.”
“Oh? And how was Mr. Moore? My father says he’s a model gentleman.” Jacob could feel the effects of the alcohol.
“He’s not a bad fellow, actually. I’ve seen him in here a few times, and I know he saw me, but he gave no sign of it tonight. Thank God.”
Studying his glass, Jacob said, “I think you both had a stake in that one, my friend. After all, he’s here to make a good impression.”
“I suppose you’re right. You sound as if you’ve got something against him.”
Jacob turned away, looking mindlessly around the room.
“Is it Jessica?”
“What?” He returned a blank stare, denying the turmoil between his heart and mind. The cousins had a way of reading each other like an open book. He was counting on the liquor to dull his anxiousness.
“I just think it’s time we let her go. Maybe Frederick would make her a good husband.” Will looked in his glass and took a swig.
“Oh.” Jacob’s heart sped up, and he calmed himself by draining his own glass. He set it down with a thud. He didn’t want to think about kissing Will’s sister. Yet the afternoon played over and over in his head, sending heat to his belly.
“So what’s the plan for tomorrow?” Will asked.
Motioning to the bartender for a refill, Jacob felt his world close in around him. The bartender delivered his drink, and he made quick work of emptying the glass.
“Hey, Jake, take it easy with the booze. We have a big day ahead of us. What the hell is up with you anyway? I haven’t seen you drink like this since I don’t know when.”
“Nothing, I’m just tired.” His words were slurred and he spoke louder than necessary. “So, Cuz, we gotta take this other route and get up pretty early so that bastard, Big Larry, doesn’t shoot us for showing up late.” Barely able to keep his eyes open, Jacob heard a hissing sound in his face. It was Will shushing him, while at the same time grabbing his arm and shaking him. “All right, all right, I’ll be quiet! Leggo of me.” Pulling away, he continued. “Merle found out the other trail was being worked on for a road. Sons of bitches, why don’t they just gravel the whole goddamn country and—”
“Jake, let’s get you home.”
Jacob confirmed with a nod, his head falling forward. He raised it back up slowly and asked, “So is this Frederick fella good looking?”
“I guess, yeah, he’s pretty good looking. Why, are you interested in him?”
Jacob laughed loudly and reached for his glass again, gesturing for a refill, but it was grabbed away from him by Will. “You’ve had enough.”
“I can have whatever how much I want. Let me go.” He stood but lost his balance, sitting down hard. He grimaced, then turned to his cousin. “William, I think it’s time we move on.”
“Oh, is that so?” Will deigned, raising an eyebrow.
“Yep.” Jacob leaned forward and stared into nothing. “I can’t stay here any longer.”
“I agree. I’m trying to take you home.”
“No! I mean I have to leave this damn city!”
“We can talk tomorrow, Jake. Let’s go.”
Chapter Eleven
As Jacob finessed the leather strap around another polished stirrup, he caught a glimpse of Merle Kingston walking into the back room of the Tack and Saddle. He kept his anger in check while Merle talked to Hank about ordering a special bridle for one of his new saddles. The day had been long, and sweat was running down Jacob’s face. He thought briefly of the pond and Jessica, playful and sweet. He dismissed the trail of passion that followed.
Taking his handkerchief from his back pocket, Jacob wiped his brow, thinking about the clean office his father sat in. Dressed up in a suit and tie with a fan to cool him, surrounded by stacks of papers and briefs, was not Jacob’s calling. He knew his life would not be so predictable. The yearning inside him to see what the country held could not be eased by leather chairs and ceiling fans. Glancing over his shoulder at the heavy man from Atlanta, Jacob swallowed hard. The wealthy Southerner who didn’t spare any cost for his horses and the tacking of them had some explaining to do. Since Hank’s storefront inventory did not include brass, ornate spurs and saddle horns, Merle suggested a man in another county who made such finery. Stating that he lacked trust in the mail service, he wanted his orders to be picked up personally by an employee of Hank’s, and Jacob had been chosen to carry out the task.
The man Merle had suggested was an artisan by the name of Lawrence Carson—Big Larry—whose foundry was on the border of New York and Connecticut. Larger than most men and as mean as a teased grizzly, Big Larry was someone to watch out for. Jacob was given another task, but without Hank’s knowledge. He was to deliver two rifles and six pistols. Although hesitant at first, Jacob was soon running guns and ammo, using the foundry as a front. Sometimes it was cash only, other times it was guns with cash. Since he began back in March, he had figured out what routes to take to stay clear of suspicion. With heavier loads, he opted for an open carriage and a rifle over his lap at all times. When Will agreed to join him, he was able to double the amount of inventory and increase the profits. Jacob liked having Will by his side, as both cousins enjoyed the tease of adventure. However, their latest run hadn’t gone as planned.
As Merle approached, Jacob began to put away his tools. With Hank at another employee’s workbench and the hum of activity around them, their conversation would be shielded.
“How’s it going, Jake?” Merle’s jovial attitude added fuel to Jacob’s anger. “You’re doing a fine job retrieving the ornamentations for my saddles.”
Jacob answered flatly, “Yes, sir.”
Before he knew it, Merle was in his ear. He smelled of sweat, peppermint and booze. “What the hell happened out there? My people tell me you were nearly robbed. You and your cousin better watch your backs. This is not some fuckin’ game.” The low intimidating tone in his voice did not deter Jacob from his own interrogation.
“Yeah, what the hell did happen, Merle?” Tension gripped his body. “I thought you told me no one knew about that trail. Someone must have tipped them of
f. What kind of game are you playing?”
“What are you implying, boy?”
“First of all, don’t call me boy, and second, those men knew exactly what they were looking for.” The muscles worked in his jaw.
After a few tense moments, Merle pulled away and gave out a hearty laugh, slapping Jacob on the back. “Good work, Jake! You passed my test. Sonny and Clyde are employees of mine. I sent them after you boys to see how you’d do when faced with a little trouble.” Merle laughed again, his large belly shaking. “Didn’t expect you two would be that … well … assertive, boy. I mean Jake. Sonny is still nursing that gunshot grazing on his arm. Your cousin’s fast on the trigger. And my man Clyde can’t get over the shakes. They’re past their prime, but I thought I’d give them a bit of an adventure. You know what I mean?”
It became clear to Jacob what this man was about. He threw down his tools and stormed out of the shop.
“Jake, Jake, I had to see if you boys were trustworthy, if you could handle the pressure,” Merle wheedled. “Come on now, we’re still friends.”
Jacob had to walk off his anger. His wounded pride convinced him of what he had been thinking for a while—he and Will could make better of this gunrunning game. He’d heard rumors of Natives in the Indian Territory needing weapons to defend their assigned government land from homesteaders, as well as the homesteaders who wanted to protect themselves from the Indians. He was under no illusion they could manage it alone. They’d have to seek out help. Jacob knew he was getting deeper into a way of life that could send him to an early grave, but Merle and the city of Hartford were closing in on him.
Mounting his horse, he slapped the horn in anger. Ornamentations, my ass!
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