Caden's Vow

by Sarah McCarty

  She still couldn’t get used to being called ma’am.

  “There’s a house out back for rent.”

  “Ah, that was my mother-in-law’s. God rest her soul.”

  “She died?”

  “Wife said not to admit this, but yeah, she died on that couch.”

  Maddie didn’t care about the couch.

  “How much?”

  He named a price for a month that made her blink. It was double the cost of her hotel room.

  He shrugged at her gasp. “Property’s expensive around here, ma’am. Town’s booming, growing fast.”

  Yes, it was. “For that price, I’d need somebody to chop wood.”

  “Wood, ma’am?”

  She looked around the store. The shelves containing sweets were almost bare. Maybe she could haggle.

  “Yes, I’m a baker.”

  “You don’t say.” As casual as the statement was, there was some interest in his face.

  “I could give you some baked goods to sell in exchange for the services.”

  “I got a boy old enough to split wood.”

  “He would need to be reliable.”

  “So would you.”

  “I am.”

  He looked at her, considering her words. “Are you any good?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “Still going to need the rent up front.”

  The money Caden had given her for food would cover supplies, but the rent—

  “I’ll pay you three weeks’ in advance and a week’s baked goods free.”

  He looked at her. “I could rent that place out for more.”

  “And likely have it filled with miners. Do you really want those wild men that close to your wife and children?”

  It was a guess that he had both. A guess that paid off.

  “Nah, that’s why it’s still sitting empty.”

  “Then do we have a deal?”

  He eyed her again, looked at her bare ring finger, her dusty clothes. “We have a deal. But before we finalize it, I want to sample your baking. If I don’t like what you produce, the deal’s off.”

  She nodded. “You could talk to Lucia at the restaurant. She’ll vouch for me. But I assure you it won’t be a problem.”

  His expression softened. He looked at her empty ring finger again. “I’ll settle for a week up front and weekly rent after that.”

  With that she could easily afford the supplies to get started. Relief so strong it was debilitating flowed through her. “Thank you.”

  “And, ma’am? If you give me your order for what you need to get started—sugar, flour and the like —I’ll have it delivered to the house.”

  Were her dire straits so obvious? Even if they were, what did she care. She was starting her own business. She told him what she needed, and he wrote it down. When she said cinnamon, his eyes lit up.

  “You’re gonna make rolls?”

  She nodded. “If you’ve got enough.”

  “I’ve got a ton of the stuff. Got it off a merchant who couldn’t make it all the way over to California. Too expensive for most folks around here.”

  He named the price.

  “It’s a little expensive even for me.”

  “You really that good?”

  She borrowed a bit of Caden’s confidence. “And then some.”

  He named a lower price. “We’ll make it up in the sale of the baked goods.”

  She figured they would. And after the first week, they’d both be sharing the profits. Wavering between panic and excitement, her heart pounding in her throat, Maddie walked back to the hotel. If this didn’t work, she’d be out on her butt in a week rather than three. It was a gamble.

  I was going to... She heard Hilda’s rattling whisper again.

  By the end of the week she might be without a home, but at the end of the week she wouldn’t be saying I was going to when it came to starting her own business. It would be done.

  Marching up to the clerk at the front desk, she told him what she wanted. He balked at refunding her the money Caden had paid in advance. She planted her feet and brought out the Hell’s Eight reputation. He caved. She tucked the precious hoard of coins into a handkerchief and pinned it inside her bodice, then headed to the restaurant to let the Salingers know this was going to be her last night, but also to explain she was starting her own bakery and they could buy her breads separately.

  They weren’t happy and at first tried to keep her. She knew why. The money they were earning on bread sales would be money in Maddie’s pocket after tonight, but then, with surprising good humor, Antonio wished her well and told her he’d be buying whatever she had.

  It was a start.

  * * *

  THE FIRST THREE days, Maddie did nothing but bake. She kneaded until her arms felt as if they were going to fall off and her fingers were so stiff she couldn’t even hold a hairbrush. She created loaf after loaf and then she started throwing in some sweet rolls and cinnamon rolls, drizzling them with icing and bringing them to the mercantile. It got so folks knew when she was going to be baking what, and the miners were lining up at the door to her house, sometimes drunk, sometimes sober, but always ready to buy whatever she had to offer. Though sometimes they thought she had something to offer other than breads. Those times were scary.

  When Antonio got word of it, he gave her a gun. She learned to keep it strapped to her hip. It soon became easy to identify the rowdy ones and the troublemakers, and by the evening of the fifth day, she discovered something else. A hardworking woman with a product that people wanted tended to be protected by the people who wanted that product.

  When one man started harassing her, it was the crowd itself that took him out, grabbing him by the arms, shoving him to the back, telling him he wasn’t welcome. It was astounding to watch, and when the man was gone, two of the miners sat in front of her door, picked up sticks and started whittling. When she caught their eye, they told her to get back to work, she needn’t worry at all about anything else, and she understood. She had a place here now. As long as she could crank out cinnamon buns and bread, she was valuable.

  She made her rent the first week by the skin of her teeth after paying for her supplies, but the second week she had a little profit left over and the third week she had enough that she began to consider that maybe, seeing as she was a woman alone, a bank might be a better proposition for her profits than a jar on her counter. So she found time between shifts and she took a bath, put on her one clean dress and went over to the bank.

  She’d never been in a bank before. She’d passed by many, but never dared to step through the imposing doors. Today was no exception. There was something intimidating about bank doors. Something so important and respectable she couldn’t see herself going in. Only the amount of money in her reticule kept her from turning tail and running. It was all she had in the world. It needed to be kept in a safer place than a jar in her rented house. Besides, businesspeople had bank accounts.

  “Good morning, ma’am.”

  She jumped and then smiled at the dapperly dressed gentleman about to enter the bank.

  “Good morning.”

  He tipped his bowler hat slightly. He had kind eyes behind his wire-rimmed spectacles. “Are you thinking of coming or going?”

  “I want to open an account.”

  She hadn’t meant to blurt it out. She couldn’t blame him for smiling.

  “Well, then, I’m the man you want to see. John Laughton.”

  He opened the door and held it for her.

  “Oh.” Beyond she could see the orderly room with its heavy desks, leather chairs and railed counter. Brass gleamed on the ends of posts. Everything was clean and shiny. Prosperous. The child inside Maddie cried that she didn’t belong there. The woman inside her tried to convince herself otherwise. “Maddie...Miller.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Miller.” With a wave of his hand, he motioned her through. “After you.”

  She didn’t have a choice then but to ste
p inside. The place even smelled like money. And lemon oil. She clutched her reticule tightly as she followed John Laughton through the bank and into an office beyond the counter. He motioned her into the big chair in front of an equally big desk. “Have a seat.”

  “Thank you.”

  She perched on the edge of the seat. He moved around the desk and sat in the high-backed chair behind. The brown of his suit blended with the leather chair, giving him more substance.

  “Have you had an account with us before?”

  “No.”

  He opened a drawer and brought out a ledger, opening it to a marked page. Dipping a pen in the inkwell, he looked up, “Does your husband have an account with us?”

  She had no ring on her finger, so he had to be fishing. She sat a little straighter. “I don’t know.”

  His eyebrows raised. “Perhaps you should talk to him about it and come back.”

  “He’s not available.”

  Another lift of those eyebrows. “We do require his signature, you understand.”

  “But it’s my money.”

  “Yes, but he’s your husband.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Are you recently married, Mrs. Miller?”

  She licked her lips, unsure if it mattered. “What makes you think that?”

  “Your hesitation over giving your name.”

  “Oh. Yes.”

  “I have to inform you, ma’am, without his signature, you can’t open an account.”

  “But if he signs, he has access to my money.”

  “He has access to your money anyway. He’s your husband.”

  “Oh.” She hadn’t known that. The reticule seemed to grow heavier in her lap. Now that she’d talked herself into putting her money into the bank, she couldn’t stand the thought of it being as vulnerable there as on her kitchen counter.

  “He’s not available,” she repeated softly.

  “When will he be?”

  She gave him the truth. “I don’t know.”

  “I’m sure your pin money will be safe wherever you’ve been keeping it.”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “I wish I could help you, but there are rules we have to follow.”

  She fought back the urge to flee this place. She turned her head as the bank doors opened and Antonio came in with the deposit from the weekend. He was a foreigner yet he walked right up to the counter as if he had a right. She’d seen his money; it was no different than hers. His business was no different than hers. The only difference was in how she saw herself. And how Mr. Laughton saw her. And she asked herself a question. How would Bella handle this? The answer was simple. Head-on, using the leverage she had.

  “I don’t think you understand.” Maddie placed her reticule on the desk. The bag bulged substantially. “I’ve started a rather successful business. Pin money does not quite describe my profits.”

  Laughton’s eyes dropped to the reticule.

  She opened the bag and dumped the contents on the desk. All ninety-five dollars of it. A fortune to her. And apparently not small change to him, either.

  “How long have you been saving?”

  “Eight days.”

  He reached for the money, stopping just before he touched it. “May I?”

  She nodded. He deftly counted it.

  He neatly stacked the bills and coins. “You earned this in eight days?”

  “Business started slow, but it’s picking up.”

  He sat back in his chair. “May I ask what sort of business you’ve invested in?”

  His tone implied it must be unsavory. Maddie forced a smile. “I opened a bakery.”

  His whole demeanor changed. Leaning forward, he asked, “You’re the one who made those cinnamon rolls my wife’s been buying?”

  “I assume so.”

  From across the room, Antonio spotted her and waved. When she waved back, he held up his finger indicating she should wait. Mr. Laughton watched the exchange. “You know Mr. Salinger?”

  “I supply his restaurant with breads and desserts.”

  “I see.”

  Before she could say anything further, Antonio came over. Mr. Laughton discreetly covered her money with his blotter. Antonio smiled at her then Mr. Laughton. “I see you have met our own personal gold mine, yes? She makes the bread the miners cannot pay enough for.” He released a kiss into the air with an expressive motion of his hand.

  “We were just talking business,” Laughton said.

  Antonio patted her on the back. “This one has a good sense for it. No frivolous girl, but a lioness. She will make us all rich.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “I do, but I came to make a request if I may interrupt.” He looked to Maddie.

  Maddie smiled. “Of course.”

  “I would like to double our order for next weekend. The men are taking the bread home. We run out too soon.”

  “Of course.” She’d make more money if they bought directly from her, but Antonio stayed open late on weekends and she did have to sleep. Maybe, though, if the shop made a bit more profit, she could afford help.

  “You can do this? It is not too much?”

  “I can do this.”

  “Good. Good. Lucia will be very happy.”

  Maddie smiled, suddenly not feeling so out of place. “Please give her my regards.”

  “This I will do, now back to work I must go.”

  As soon as he left, Maddie sighed and reached for her money. “I need to go, too.”

  Instead of handing her back her money, Mr. Laughton handed her a signature card. “If you’ll just sign your husband’s name on that line—” he tapped the middle of the card “—we’ll get you squared away.”

  Startled, she looked up. “But...?”

  He raised his brows at her. “Sometimes the rules are meant to be bent.”

  And right then she understood something else. Money opened doors for her that would otherwise be closed. While she waited for Mr. Laughton to fill out her receipt, she felt the first niggles of pride. She folded the receipt carefully when he handed it to her, trying hard not to burst into laughter. She was a businesswoman. She was providing for herself. She was respectable. Standing, she held out her hand to the banker. As he took it she said, “Good day, Mr. Laughton.” She smiled and squeezed his hand. “And thank you.”

  * * *

  THE NEXT WEEK PASSED in a blur of baking and preparation. The hectic pace was only broken by a niggling sense of unease, as though someone was watching, but whenever Maddie looked, she saw nothing out of place. No matter what she did, she couldn’t shake the unease that just kept growing stronger and stronger. She started going to the bank twice a day, too nervous to keep money around the house. It made her feel better, but only a little. And as every day passed, she grew more and more nervous about Caden’s return until she began to connect the two.

  The day he was scheduled to come back, she woke up in a sweat, her mind racing, her pulse pounding, fear vibrating through her body. Lighting the lamp, she immediately glanced toward the window, but there was only her own reflection looking back at her. Lying back on the couch, she took a breath and forced her muscles to relax. Caden had told her to stay put, but she wasn’t where he’d left her. For that matter she wasn’t even who he’d left, and she didn’t kid herself that that was going to go over well. Caden wasn’t a man who liked surprises, and he didn’t like it when things didn’t go his way.

  She got off the couch, wiping the sweat from her brow. Summer was upon them full force and the heat was stifling in the little house. She poured water from the pitcher she’d set out the night before into the basin, rubbed soap onto a cloth and washed the sweat from her body. She wished it was as easy to wash the dread from her mind. She’d worked so hard for what she had. She couldn’t lose it.

  She glanced over at her pistol lying on the table. She hadn’t carried it for a couple weeks now. It wasn’t necessary. Those who’d caused trouble had gotten the
message. She was under the town’s protection. Today, after she got dressed, she’d wear it, though. This was her business. No one, but no one, was taking it away from her.

  With a sigh she went to the back door and opened it. The kitten that had adopted her meowed and curled around her feet.

  “Good morning, Precious. Today’s our big day.”

  The cat meowed again and wandered around her feet, wanting some of the milk that she gave her every morning.

  “Let’s get our business taken care of and then I will.” She stopped at the outhouse before heading back to the well, drawing up water, washing her hands again before filling a kitchen bucket. Precious meowed along at her side, complaining at the delay of her breakfast the way she did every day. Maddie shook her head and smiled. The kitten was a handful and demanding, but it was her kitten. Her first pet in her first house at her first job, and she’d kill anybody that hurt her.

  She picked up the cat and touched her nose to hers.

  “Coming right up.” She set the kitten back down, picked the bucket back up and went in the house to pour a little saucer of milk. She set it outside along with some leftover stew from the night before.

  The kitten licked at the stew, choosing the bits it wanted and devouring them rapidly, then lapped daintily at the milk. Precious definitely had her preferences. At first Maddie had worried that the dogs would get her kitten, but Precious was smart. She knew how to survive. Sometimes late at night Maddie thought Precious could teach her survival lessons, because it was late at night when her resolve wavered and she remembered being in Caden’s arms, how close she’d felt to him, how carefully he’d made love to her, how special she’d felt, and it was hard the next morning to wake up and realize that it had all been part of a game. One she didn’t understand, but a game nonetheless.

  Going back out, she gathered some wood and brought it in, stoking the embers on the stove, opening the doors to both ends of the house. She couldn’t wait for the day she could afford an outside stove. It was hot cooking in the little house to the level she had to.

  Two hours later a knock came at the sill. Maddie smiled, seeing little Lissie Mayers with a basket on her arm.

  “Are those my eggs?”

  The little girl nodded. Maddie grabbed the cinnamon roll she’d wrapped and set aside the night before along with the coins.