Chapter 4

"I can't believe you're going to loan Cadot money. His ranch is already being used as collateral." Jefferson paced back and forth.

"The cattle themselves are of value, and the ranch hasn't been reassessed since the improvements Cadot made over the winter," Charlie told Jefferson. "I think there's more than enough equity to support the additional loan. Besides, he's getting a really good deal. Those Texas boys are desperate to get rid of their herd, and the price is a good one. Cadot is only paying ten dollars a head and will sell them in the fall for triple that or more. The army has already arranged to buy whatever animals he wants to sell. He plans to use the profits to pay off the loan and still have enough to bring in new stock. He has a reasonable plan."

"What do you know about raising cattle?" Jefferson asked. The smirk had returned to his face.

"Not that much, but I'm not afraid to learn."

"What about your father's advice not to use animals as collateral? Anything living can die."

"Like I said, the ranch is worth more now than when he borrowed the money against it last summer." Charlie frowned. He didn't like that a subordinate would give him such a difficult time. "Now, the matter is settled, and I'd appreciate it if you'd get back to your own job so that I can do mine."

The front door opened, and Charlie recognized Wilson Porter from the boardinghouse. "Pastor Porter. How can I help you?" He went to the man and extended his hand.

The man shook hands with Charlie. "Thought I'd come set up an account. Mrs. Cooper told me how to find you."

"Come into my office, and we'll talk."

Wilson followed him and took the leather-bound chair Charlie offered. Charlie had hoped to get to know the man better; after all, they were about the same age and neither had family in the area.

"If I heard you correctly the other night, you're out here to minister to the Indians."

Wilson nodded. "I am. I felt God called me west, so after the war, I attended seminary and then talked my local church into sponsoring me."

Charlie felt obliged to share a bit of his own life. "I'm from Chicago. Served in the war and came back home to continue with the family business of banking. Although, it's not exactly how I'd like to spend the rest of my life."

Wilson eased back in the chair. "I remember hearing you say over supper that you were interested in teaching."

"Yes, I truly feel it's my calling."

"So God called you to teach, but you chose banking instead?"

Charlie laughed. "Well, Pastor Porter, I guess that's one way to put it. Frankly, I was trying to honor my father. He wanted all three of his sons to follow his example and be bankers."

"You can call me Will. Never did take to titles."

"Will it is. Now, you mentioned something about wanting to open an account."

Just then, Jefferson appeared at the open door. He paused to knock, and Charlie waved him in. He put two ledgers on Charlie's desk and turned to go without a word. The expression on his face, however, left Charlie little doubt he was most perturbed.

"Jefferson, wait just a minute."

The younger man turned, not even trying to hide his annoyance. Charlie just smiled. "I'd like you to meet a new customer of ours. Pastor Wilson Porter." He figured using the title was appropriate given the situation. "And Pastor Porter, this is my assistant, Jefferson Lane."

"Pastor Porter," Jefferson said in a clipped tone. He didn't so much as smile.

"Mr. Lane." Will gave a nod. "Very nice to meet you."

Charlie didn't care for Jefferson's stiff and unfriendly manner but said nothing. He supposed this was just going to be the way of things until Jefferson realized Charlie was going to do things his own way.

"So, Will," Charlie began after Jefferson had gone, "where are you from?"

"Ohio. Outside of Cincinnati and later in the city of Salem. As you come from a family lineage of bankers, I come from a long line of preachers."

"Do you still have family in Ohio?"

"My mother and sister sold the house after Father's death and went to Mississippi to stay a time with my aunt. My mother's older widowed sister."

"I'm sorry to hear of your loss."

"It was a great loss, to be sure. I'm trying to convince my mother to move here. I hope to be working closer to Fort Bridger, but Cheyenne would put them so much closer to me."

"We've both been here such a short time, but I hear the town is still pretty unsettled. They keep telling me things are better than it used to be and will continue to improve as the railroad moves west, but it might be dangerous for two women who have no man to watch over them. Something to think about, anyway. Now, what about your work? Do you have a specific tribe you'll be working with?"

"I've been corresponding with the Indian Affairs offices in Washington. They are working with the Shoshone to finalize additions to a treaty written in 1863. Once that is complete, I hope to go to Fort Bridger to meet with the Indian agent Mr. Blevins and begin working with the Shoshone."

"I admire you for that." Charlie found the man's willingness to lay his life on the line and move to regions of unrest to be quite commendable. "Do any of the Shoshone speak English, or will you have to learn the language?"

"There are some who speak English, but not many. As I understand it, the Indian agents have been working with them, and this new addendum that is being written will require the children be educated. That, of course, will mean teaching them English."

"So they'll need teachers?"

Will shrugged. "I would imagine so."

"That's very interesting." Charlie couldn't keep from picturing himself teaching to the native children. Wouldn't that be something?

"Well, if you don't mind, I should probably finish up my business here," Will declared. "I promised I'd meet Dr. Scott in about half an hour."

"Of course." Charlie smiled. "Let's get your account set up."

The afternoon wore on, and each time Jefferson came to the office to bring something, Charlie noted his sour expression and minimal words. He was more than a little unhappy with Charlie's choices, and yet he had no right to be. It wasn't his money.

"Is there something you need to say?" Charlie asked after Jefferson's third trip to his office.

Jefferson looked as if he might say something, but then he turned to go back to his teller's cage. "Just wanted you to have the information you asked for," he said over his shoulder.

Charlie was starting to wonder why Jacob had ever hired him. Jacob would never have allowed Jefferson to question his choices. Charlie didn't want to have to get firm with the younger man, but he had learned from his father that authority had to be established early on. If not, employees would take advantage of the situation. The same was true in the classroom, which was where Charlie really wanted to be. However, since the bank was his assignment, he had no other choice.

I guess I'll have to put my foot down.

Charlie looked at the clock. It was nearly five. He might as well say something to Jefferson now, and then they could close for the day and be done with it.

He drew a deep breath and got to his feet. He had never wanted to be an employer with people to boss around. His father had pushed him into the world of banking, and Charlie could hear him even now, hundreds of miles away in Chicago.

"I have plans for you, Charles," his father had declared. "You have finished your education and served your country. Now it's time to settle down and take over your part of the family business. Your brothers have done well, and I've no reason to doubt you'll do the same."

But that wasn't what Charlie had wanted to do with his life. It still wasn't, and now he had to face reprimanding an employee. His heart just wasn't in this.

He locked his office door and turned to find Jefferson already standing at the front door. He could see the look of irritation on the young man's face. Maybe their talk could wait for the morning. No, if Jefferson took on an even worse attitude, then Charlie would have to deal with it all day.

"You know, Jefferson, it's good for a man to know his mind and to hold his own opinions," Charlie began as he crossed the room. "But as my employee, it might be best for you to hold that opinion to yourself unless I ask for you to make it vocal. I will fall or rise on my own merits, and you won't be the one who must account for the results."

Jefferson straightened and looked Charlie in the eye. "I understand, sir." He emphasized the latter word.

Charlie smiled. "Good. I appreciate that you do."

There, surely that would be enough to put the man in his place and let him know that Charlie was in charge and ready to defend his position. And his choices.

Jefferson opened the door for him. "Have a good evening ... sir."

Charlie thought to stop him from the formal address, then decided against it. If that was how Jefferson needed things to be to remind him of his place, then so be it. Charlie refused to be offended by his tone or his choice of words.

He waited as Jefferson finished locking up. "I'll see you in the morning."

Jefferson nodded but said nothing more. He turned and walked in the opposite direction that Charlie planned to go, and for a minute Charlie just watched him. Jefferson struck him again as a man who intended to go places, to be important, to be in charge. He didn't seem like the type to allow anything to stand in his way.

Charlie hadn't checked to see whether Jefferson had an account with the bank but presumed he must. It might be interesting to see what kind of wealth he had set aside for himself since he'd started working for the savings and loan the year before. The bank wasn't quite a year old, but Charlie knew from what Father and Jacob had said that Jefferson had been on board since the start.

Heading toward the boardinghouse, Charlie couldn't help but wonder what the future would hold with Jefferson Lane. The man wasn't at all happy with following orders. Jacob had never been one to tolerate insubordination. Had his health issues caused him to give the younger man free rein? Maybe Jefferson didn't treat Jacob the same way he did Charlie. Jacob was older and better established in being a man in charge. He had no doubt set boundaries in place even before hiring Jefferson. Charlie remembered his father's words.

"There must be a division between the worker and the one in charge, Charles. This is most critical. A man needs to know his place, and it is the responsibility of the man in charge to put him in that place from the beginning. Anytime he tries to venture from that position, a supervisor must be ready to reassert authority and put him back into it. Otherwise, you'll have utter chaos."

Those words, and so many others, echoed in Charlie's head. His father had always been stern and commanding. He'd never once asked Charlie for an opinion but had instead told him what to think and do. The only time Charlie had gone against his father's wishes was when he'd enlisted to fight in the war. Even then, however, Bertram Decker had had the upper hand. He'd quickly arranged for his son to be the aide for a high-ranking officer who preferred making battle plans to fighting. Charlie had seen less than two major battles, and those he'd seen only from the far rear echelons, where it was somewhat safe. At least as safe as any battlefield could be. Still, he'd hated his position of privilege when he knew his friends were laying their lives on the line. But at least he had been able to serve.

The opportunity to take over for Jacob at the savings and loan had come as a welcome change to Charlie. Not because he wanted to continue his hand at banking. Not even for the ability to be in charge. No, leaving for Cheyenne gave Charlie a chance to escape the men in his family ... as well as their scrutiny and criticism.

Charlie had tried numerous times to discuss his desire to teach and, perhaps, to build his own school, but no one cared enough to listen. He was always silenced with talk of new business opportunities and the state of national finance.

Coming to Cheyenne at least allowed him the freedom to make his own choices. To a degree. His father still expected to hear updates on Charlie's state of affairs, and, of course, there were the quarterly reports that had to go in. Not to mention that Father expected to have monthly letters explaining the general conditions of Cheyenne and Charlie's opinion of opportunities for growth. Not that his father would really consider Charlie's opinion. He still treated Charlie as though he were ten instead of a man in his thirties. Maybe that was due in part to wanting to be called Charlie instead of Charles. Or maybe it was due to Charlie's carefree spirit and general positivity toward life. Mother always said he was the happiest of all her children.

Charlie credited his spiritual walk for that happiness. Mother had helped him to understand the need for God's guidance and direction from an early age, and in seeking to know God better, Charlie had learned a contentment that seemed to elude his brothers and father.

He cast a glance around the growing town and smiled. He could see being happy here. He could imagine himself building a school for boys and finding a young woman to marry. Melody Doyle came to mind as a possibility. She was quite pretty and so kind in her nature. Of course, Jefferson had voiced interest in the young woman. But if she was the one God had for him, Charlie knew God would arrange it in time. Charlie just needed to be obedient and mindful of what God wanted him to do, and right now it seemed banking was a part of the plan.

"Are you sure you want to take on a job?" Faith Cooper asked Melody as they made their way to the Coopers' house. Melody had run into Mrs. Cooper on her way back to get food from Marybeth, and the conversation had led to Faith explaining that she needed to hire someone to help her with the boardinghouse.

"I'd love it. Da's able to do for himself, even if the railroad won't let him come back to work just yet. That in and of itself is a puzzlement. I've never known the railroad to turn down a hard worker like Da, but the doctor says he's just not up to it, leastwise that's what Da told me. Anyway, he doesn't need me at home all the time, and helping you would allow us to bring in a little money."

"Are you in need?" Mrs. Cooper asked in a serious tone.

Melody moved the basket she carried from one arm to the other. "No, not at all. Da saved a good amount of money before he got hurt. We've been using the savings, but if I were to work, we could use my money instead."

"Well, as far as I'm concerned you can start on Monday. I'll need you there by five thirty to help with breakfast." They'd reached the Coopers', and she motioned Melody to follow her into the house. "You can see for yourself the dining room is just through there, and beyond is the kitchen. I'll have plenty for you to do in the mornings just feeding this bunch."

"That won't be a problem," Melody assured the older woman.

"And I'll need help with the garden. My knees are so bad it's hard for me to get down and plant. Do you think you'd be able to manage that as well?"

"Of course. I love to garden."

"Then we have laundry. So much laundry. Most of the men want me to manage it for them, and that takes quite a bit of time. Not only that, but I change the bedding once a week and wash the blankets every month. Gerald is going to string me two more lines for drying clothes."

"I can help with it all. When the vegetables start coming in, I can even help you to can and preserve them. Of course, by then I'll probably be married off to someone, and they might have something to say about me working. Or I'll be on down the track with Da."

"Is your father really determined to find you a husband?"

Melody nodded. "He is, and if he doesn't, I'll have to leave Cheyenne and continue west with him." The thought wearied her to the bone. "I'm hopeful, however. I really believe God would have me stay here in Cheyenne."

"I hope so. I've come to enjoy our friendship."

"Well, now you can enjoy me as your housemaid too." Melody smiled and held up her basket. "I'd best go now. Marybeth Vogel is waiting on me."

"I'll walk you out."

Melody hurried to leave the house, exiting out the front door. She paid no attention to where she was going and nearly ran into one of the boarders.

"I'm so sorry," she said, putting her hands out to steady herself. Only after doing it did she realize she'd planted them in the middle of the handsome brown-eyed man.

"Forgive me again," she said, pulling away.

"That's quite all right. No harm done."

"Melody, this is Wilson Porter. He's a pastor newly arrived in Cheyenne. He's hoping to set up a ministry with the Indians."

"It's very nice to meet you. I'm Melody Doyle."

"Melody is going to be working here at the boardinghouse and helping me with a variety of things," Mrs. Cooper offered.

"I'm glad to meet you, Miss Doyle. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some things to attend to."

Melody nodded as the man hurried by and headed upstairs. Faith chuckled, causing Melody to look at her in question.

"I was just thinking of your father's bargain. Maybe you should consider becoming a pastor's wife."

Melody laughed and headed down the street. There really didn't seem to be any problem finding single men, but finding one her father approved of was an entirely different story. Still, the day was going quite well, and Melody wasn't going to worry about her need for suitors.

It had been her good fortune to run into Mrs. Cooper. She wasn't sure what Da would think of her taking a regular job, but maybe if he saw that Melody could support herself and had a place to live, he wouldn't worry so much about her finding a husband. Not that she minded the idea of finding a man of her own. But she preferred to fall in love with someone rather than marry for convenience. She had been certain that Da would rather she do that as well, but he didn't seem to think it a problem to interview men for her to go out with. The entire matter was something of a curiosity, and the more she talked about it with her friends, the more it caused Melody to wonder if she was making the right decision.

After seeing Marybeth, Melody headed back to the tent. Children played outside, enjoying the closing of the day. It had been a clear day, and while a cloudbank had formed in the west, there wasn't yet any real threat of rain.

"Da?" Melody said as she walked into the open tent. Her father had tied back the flaps to let in the fresh air.

He came from around the curtain they used to divide the living area from the sleeping space. "I'm here."

"I've brought our supper. Let's eat while it's still hot." She set the basket down and drew out the bowl of chicken and dumplings.

Melody placed the bowl on their tiny table, then retrieved the plate. Marybeth had cut two large pieces of apple pie, and Melody knew her father would enjoy the treat. She'd give him one now and save the other for tomorrow.

"I have some news," she said, putting the pie on the table. She hurried to retrieve bowls and spoons. "Do you want me to make coffee?"

"I just made a pot. That on the stove is fresh."

"Wonderful." Melody found his coffee mug and filled it. "Ready?" she asked, placing the cup beside his bowl.

"I am."

Da prayed a blessing over the meal and then waited while Melody dished up the food. "Smells mighty fine," he said. "Sorry I wasn't up to going to the Vogels' for a visit." His Irish brogue sounded all the thicker when he was tired.

"Oh, they completely understand. Edward was just waking up for his evening shift when I was ready to leave. He said that he hopes you'll be feeling better soon and that he'll come by another day to check up on you and maybe get that game of checkers." She paused and gave him a long look. "Da, you look tired. Did you not rest while I was gone?"

"Oh, to be sure, I did. I'm fine." He smiled. "Ya worry over me like yar ma used to. Now tell me about Marybeth's little one. How was she doin'?"

"Growing like a weed. Marybeth said that Carrie has shot up at least two inches in the last couple of months." Carrie was being raised as Marybeth and Edward's daughter, even though she was actually the woman's little sister. Carrie's mother had died shortly after giving her life, and both girls had lost their father the previous year.

"She's a precious one, to be sure. One day ya'll be havin' a houseful of your own young'uns."

Melody chuckled and finished serving the food. As an afterthought, she went to the bread box and brought the bread and butter to the table. Taking her own seat, she gave her father a nod. "And you'll be teachin' them all to play checkers and shoot marbles."

"And what would be wrong with that?" Da's eyes twinkled with delight. "I'm thinkin' it would be a fine thing for a grandda to do."

She nodded. "It would be, at that." She picked up her spoon. "Oh, as I said, I have news."

"Well, get on with it, then."

"I met Mrs. Cooper on the street, and she told me their house is now full with six full-time boarders, and she needs help to keep up with the work. I told her I would love to come and ease her burden. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all. What will ya be doin'?"

"Washing up and cooking, a little gardening and such. I'll head over about five thirty and help get the breakfast on and go from there. I thought if you wanted, I could fix you something first and leave it warming on the stove if you weren't of a mind to get up early."

"I can be fixin' me own breakfast. Ya'll have enough to worry with. I'll get up in the mornin' and walk ya over. It's not that far, but it's still dark in the wee hours. I'll feel better goin' with ya."

"That's kind of you, Da. I'll feel better having you along too. Things are already calming down, but there's no sense taking foolish chances."

"To be sure." He pointed to the bowl. "This is a mighty fine bowl of soup. Marybeth makes a dumplin' as light as yar mother's."

"She's a good cook, to be sure."

"And we're blessed that she takes pity on her busy friends."

Melody knew that she was about to get all the busier and didn't want Da to worry. "I'll make sure to see you fed, Da. Never worry. Mrs. Cooper said I can figure out the hours that work best for me. I can even come home during the day and take care of business here, then return to their house."

"I wasn't worried about it, my dear. Ya've never failed me, and I don't believe ya'll start now."