“So am I. The brides will be left alone, you have my word. And my word does mean something, if that’s what’s worrying you.”
That didn’t worry her as much as something else. Grace got the distinct impression that the promise he’d made didn’t extend to his interactions with her, but she had no idea how to call him on it. “Then we’ll consider the deal done. If you’ll stop by the bank tomorrow, I’ll have a contract for you to sign.”
“Fair enough. Anything else?”
“No.”
She turned to sail out, only to have him say, “Hold on a for a minute.”
Grace stopped and turned back.
“Found your hat pin in my bed after you left. Thought you might want it back.”
The dark eyes were definitely more penetrating than she remembered. Wondering how in the world she could reconcile being attracted to such an irritating man, she asked, “Did you bring it with you?”
He fished around in the pocket on the front of his black shirt and placed the pearl-topped pin on his palm. He held it out for her to take.
Grace walked over. She told herself that retrieving the pin was simply a matter of picking it up, but found the job easier said than done. Because of the way his nearness seemed to befuddle her, it took her two tries to finally get a grip on it, making it necessary to slide her fingers across the warm skin of his palm.
After finally succeeding, she looked up into his faintly amused features and said politely, “Thank you for the return of the pin. Is there anything else?”
“Nope.”
“Then I’ll see you back upstairs.”
Left alone, Jackson accepted the fact that the hellion didn’t like having to hire him, but luckily for him and his desire to return home, she didn’t have a choice. He was also fairly certain that the two of them would butt heads over everything and nothing all the way to Kansas, but he didn’t mind that either. At least the trip wouldn’t be boring, and Grace Atwood was easy on the eyes, even if she did have the temper of a fire ant.
Back upstairs, Grace tried to set herself back on an even keel, but found it difficult. She’d just agreed to spend the next two months of her life traveling across the country with a man who seemed able to unnerve her with little more than a look. She had no idea why it was happening or how to combat it.
The women were now done with their questionnaires. Grace collected them and stuck the huge stack into her valise lying on the front pew. She didn’t want to con
template how long it would take to read them all, but they were the least of her problems. Her biggest problem stood six feet, two inches tall and answered to the name of Jackson Blake. He was going to be a handful in ways she probably couldn’t even imagine by the time they reached Kansas City. She just hoped she’d live through the experience.
Seeing him re-enter the sanctuary, Grace supposed she couldn’t put off introducing him any longer. Regardless of her personal misgivings, she hoped he was qualified and that he and the women would get along. “Ladies, I’d like for you to meet Mr. Jackson Blake. As he told you earlier, he’s the wagon master. He led a train to Texas after the war, and we are fortunate to have a man of his experience guiding us to Kansas City.”
“He can master my wagon anytime,” cooed a female voice on the left side of the aisle. Testimonies of approval laughingly seconded her assessment.
From somewhere near the back of the church, a flirtatious voice called out, “And are you married, Mr. Blake?”
They were treated to his smile, and Grace swore a few of the women melted. He looked over at Grace and said, “No.”
That he’d answered the question while holding Grace’s eyes made strange feelings uncurl inside herself again, and she wanted them to stop. She’d sworn off men, especially ones handsome enough to make a woman walk through fire.
Pulling herself together once more, Grace told the women, “I’d like Mr. Blake to speak to us about what may lay ahead. Mr. Blake?”
“Thank you, Miss Atwood. Let me start by saying if you’re prone to the vapors, please stay home. This isn’t going to be a stroll to church. It’s going to be one long,
hard journey, and the work is going to be backbreaking every step of the way.”
He went on to tell them about the wagons they’d have to drive, the game they’d have to catch for food, and the hazards and accidents that could result in broken bones or death. Grace and the other women listened enraptured.
“You could be struck by lightning, drown in a river crossing, or die from snakebite. We may run into farmers who won’t want us crossing their land. Renegades who’ll think you’re ripe for kidnapping. And then there’s the weather. We’re going to try and reach Kansas before the height of the heat, but there’ll be days when we’ll bake, and days when we’ll have to drive the wagons through bone-chilling rain. If you don’t think you can handle what may be ahead, it’s best you leave now, because we’re not choosing anyone who can’t pull her own weight.”
A few women squeezed out of the pews and headed for the door.
While Jackson went on to discuss some of the skills the women would need to learn, Grace found herself impressed by his speech and manner. He was proving himself to be more than a rude, arrogant man who tumbled women into their beds. In talking about the dangers ahead, he hadn’t pulled any punches, and Grace appreciated that. He’d been a bit harsh in some respects, but everyone, including her, needed to hear the truth. She didn’t want any complaining about the conditions once they got under way.
Thinking maybe Jackson Blake wasn’t such a bad choice after all, Grace did a quick head count. There’d been seventy-five women at the beginning of the meeting. Sixty-seven remained.
When Jackson gave the floor back to Grace, she asked for questions.
One young woman stood. “Will we get a chance to see what these men look like before we go to Kansas?”
Grace nodded, “I have their portraits. They’ll be shown to the final candidates.”
Grace pointed next to a woman wearing a sparrow-brown dress and gloves who asked, “What about women who already have children?”
Grace told the truth. “Unfortunately, most of the men have requested women without children. Personally, I believe that’s terribly short-sighted, and if I ever do this sort of thing again, I’ll insist this attitude not prevail, but for this trip I have to follow their wishes. I’m sorry,” she finished softly.
The woman stood. After gathering her things she departed quietly. Ten more women stood, disappointment saddening their faces. Their dignified exits made Grace’s heart ache. She glanced over at Jackson and saw a solemnity reflected in the planes of his face as well.
The exit of the mothers seemed to cast a pall on the proceedings, taking the gaiety out of the atmosphere, so after a few more questions and answers, Grace brought the gathering to a close.
“Ladies, it’s getting late. Why don’t we save the rest of the questions for next time. I urge you to take Mr. Blake’s words to heart and honestly ask yourselves if you really have the fortitude necessary to make this journey. In the meantime, I will be going over your papers. On Monday, there’ll be a list of names posted at my bank of the chosen candidates. Thank you all for coming.”
The remaining fifty-six women left silently. Grace wondered if any would return. She looked back to find Blake watching her. “What?” she asked quietly. She
picked up her valise and began straightening the pile of questionnaires she’d hastily stuffed into it earlier. The pain of having to watch those women leave the church still pulled at her heart.
“Maybe next time you can take only mothers and children.”
Grace paused and looked his way. She hadn’t expected sympathy from him.
“You look surprised,” he responded.
“I am. A lot of men wouldn’t care two oars about the feelings of those women.”
“And you thought I was one of those men.” He stated it as a fact, not a question.
She confessed truthfully, “We didn’t exactly mesh on our first meeting, Mr. Blake.”
“I’ll give you that. But don’t judge until you know.”
Feeling properly chastised, Grace replied emotionlessly, “And will you do the same?”
He nodded. “I will.”
Their gazes were locked, and for a moment, Grace found herself wanting to know the man behind the dark, penetrating eyes. Surprising herself with that thought, she hastily looked away, then busied herself with gathering up her things.
She’d forgotten all about the aunts until she glanced up and saw them standing a few feet away, watching her and Blake intently.
Blake seemed to have noticed them for the first time, too. “Evening, ladies.”
Dahlia smiled. “Good evening. My name is Dahlia Kingsley, and this is my sister, Tulip Mays. We’re Grace’s great-aunts. Are we interrupting?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Miss Atwood and I were just about done. Pleased to meet you.”
Both aunts smiled at him as Tulip exclaimed, “Well,
we’re certainly glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Blake.”
Grace’s aunts were as unpredictable as they were unconventional, so in order to keep them from saying or asking lord knew what, she jumped into the conversation. “As you see, I’ve decided to hire Mr. Blake to be the wagon master.”
“We heard,” Dahlia said, gazing appreciatively up at the tall, handsome Texan.
The smiling Tulip hadn’t taken her eyes off Blake since their introduction. She replied, “We certainly did. Mr. Blake, why don’t you come and have supper with us tomorrow evening? I’m sure you and Grace have much to talk about, and you can do it over a meal. What do you think, Dahl?”
“I think that’s a marvelous suggestion,” her sister declared.
Grace noted that no one had asked her how she felt about sitting across the dining room table from Blake. “Aunts, I’m afraid I’ll be working late tomorrow night. I have some—”
Tulip waved her off. “Grace, dear, you’ve been running around trying to get this wagon train under way for weeks. We can eat, get to know Mr. Blake a bit better, and then the two of you can retire to the study to work. How’s that sound, Dahl?”
“Sounds perfect,” Dahlia replied agreeably. “What do you think, Mr. Blake?”
Grace dearly hoped he’d decline.
“Sounds fine,” he answered. His eyes unreadable, he turned to Grace. “What about you, Miss Atwood?”
She was certain he’d accepted just to vex her. “It seems I have no choice,” she stated evenly, while glowering pointedly at her aunts. However, they weren’t pay
ing her a bit of attention; they were too busy staring up at the Texan.
“How about seven?” Grace asked him.
“Seven it is,” he told her.
After being given the address and directions to the house, he told the aunts, “Thanks for the invite. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He then turned to Grace. “How about I pick up that contract, then?”
“That would be fine.”
He nodded her way and headed for the church door.
After he disappeared, the aunts were still staring at the door. Tulip waxed wistfully, “Now, Dahl, that was a good-looking young man. Did you see those shoulders?”
Dahlia nodded. “Sure did. I wonder if his father is still living? Maybe we’ll be lucky and learn he’s a widower.”
“Wouldn’t hurt to ask,” her sister reasoned.
Grace dropped down into the nearest pew and put her head in her hands.
Grace’s afternoon meeting with caterer Otis Hooper and his solicitor about his bank loan did not go well. For weeks now he’d been trying to bully her into lowering the interest. Today, he’d demanded to speak with a
male
bank representative because he didn’t believe Grace knew what she was doing. Holding onto her temper, Grace firmly pointed out that
she
was the bank’s president and lending officer, and that Hooper would deal with her or no one at all. The confrontation became so heated, Hooper threatened to take his substantial accounts elsewhere, but Grace didn’t back down. She knew that there were few White banks willing to do business with Blacks, and those that did charged a far higher lending rate, so calling his bluff, Grace walked
over to her office door and opened it wide.
Hooper sat there a moment as if his glare alone would make her change her mind, but when it didn’t, he and his man picked up their papers and stormed out.
Later, after their departure, Lionel Rowe stuck his head around her office door. “How’re you doing?”
A dejected Grace looked up. “As well as can be expected, I suppose. Could you hear all the yelling?”
“Clearly, but I’m very proud of you. Your father Elliot would be, too. You didn’t buckle.”
“But he’s threatened to take his accounts elsewhere.”
“Don’t worry about that. He always threatened Elliot, too. He’s simply testing you.”
“Do you think so?”
Lionel nodded his graying head. “He’ll be back in a couple of days, ready to sign anything you want. He may be bull-headed, but he’s not stupid. You’ll see.”
But Grace wasn’t so sure. All the way home in the hired hack, her worry about having driven away one of the bank’s wealthiest depositors warred with her anger over his insulting attitude. How in the world were women to succeed if they were expected to pick up their skirts and run every time a man bellowed?
Now, up in her bedroom, looking through her wardrobe for something to wear to dinner, she had yet another trial to face: Jackson Blake. Upon her arrival home, the aunts had ordered her to change out of the brown walking suit she’d worn to work, and to put on something a bit more suitable for hostessing before Blake arrived. Grace’s arguments that she didn’t need to dress for dinner in order to entertain him fell on deaf ears. Tulip informed her that no well-raised woman greeted guests dressed in her work clothes, be she washerwoman, seamstress, or bank owner. Of course Dahlia had agreed wholeheartedly, so a disgruntled Grace had
trudged up to her bedroom like a sullen adolescent to change clothes.
The bath she’d taken after coming upstairs had helped to melt away the day’s tension, leaving her less wound up and angry, but as Grace continued to search through her dresses, she dearly wished her aunts had spent last evening with their new beaus, the Henderson twins instead of coming to her meeting at the church. Had they done so, they’d’ve never met Blake, and none of this would be necessary.