ChapterOne
Ruined.That’s what his most trusted friend and business partner had done to Ed Neal when he stole from his San Francisco shipping company. A scorching energy galloped up his back and down his arms. He crushed the letter from his former business partner in his fist and pounded it against the table. “Tell me you’ve found him.”
Ghost, the man with the deep southern drawl, western hat, and large scar etched from right eye to chin, chewed his lip. “No. He’s gone run off with his girl.”
Ed tossed the scribbled message as if throwing it away would rid him of the evils of his best friend’s betrayal. The crumpled paper bounced off the table and landed on Ghost’s dusty boot. “You mean that prostitute?”
“That be the one.” Ghost removed his hat and turned it as if analyzing the frayed edges. “You want me to get a posse together?”
The thought crossed Ed’s mind, but even if he caught his oldest and dearest traitor, what would he do with him? Hang him or forgive him? To forgive him only meant inheriting more debt from his gambling. Not to mention if he caught him, the town would know Ed faced financial ruin. No, after fifteen years working side-by-side, building an empire together, Ed realized that the friend who once saved his life didn’t exist anymore. He was an empty husk lost to booze and gambling and women. “No, if I found him, I’d only want to shoot him.”
Ed eyed the pages and pages of financials that had all been doctored over the last several months and the two businesses that he’d invested heavily in that had failed and realized he only had one option left to him. “It’s best he stays far from here so he doesn’t spook my bride when she arrives.”
“After swearing off marriage and family all these years, you really gonna marry some rich girl from back east?”
The word marriage seared Ed with a hot poker of dread. “That’s the plan. A woman with the Folsom name and hefty dowry will save us all.”
“You said you’d never have no children. I’m thinking your bride expects to have babies.”
A tension in the back of his neck grabbed hold, causing pain to radiate to his head. “She’ll have to settle for a doting husband who treats her like a goddess.”
Ghost plopped his hat on his head. “Hope she does. I’ll be ’round with the carriage in the mornin’ to get your bride.”
“Thanks. I’ll be ready.”
Ghost paused by the large window overlooking the city and the bay in the distance. “Wait. What about Mr. Connor? Didn’t you order him a wife? She comin’ too? What you gonna do ’bout that?”
Ed cursed under his breath and poured himself some whiskey. The caramel liquid promised a salve for his anxiety. “I thought when I ordered him a southern belle to soothe his wild ways, I was going to make things better.” He gulped downed the fiery liquid and savored the burn in his throat that reminded him he could afford such extravagances. Or so he'd thought a day ago.
“If what Mr. Connor said is true, she’s expecting a husband to make a family. Guess there lots of men ’round these parts to offer her that, so shouldn’t be no big problem.”
Ed rubbed his throbbing temple. “Shouldn’t be. I’ll send word to some of the men who’re looking for wives and set her up with a fine match quick.”
“Heard Mr. Grous’s looking for a bride.”
A shot of anger pierced his gut. “Anyone but him. Not going to send any woman to that monster. From what I hear, he beats his women as much as he does the men in his factory.” Ed clutched his glass in his hand tight. The thought of a man hitting a woman never sat well with Ed. He only hoped the man his baby sister married back east was kind. “I’ll put her up at the hotel when she arrives and sort it out.”
“Why you not gonna bring her here?”
“A no-name Irish girl? I won’t tarnish my new wife’s reputation that way.” Nor would he ever bring his past to his future. His Irish heritage was dead, buried, and decaying to dust. He’d made sure of that.
Ghost looked at him squarely. “According to Mr. Connor, you really be Edward O’Neal from Ireland, but you dropped the O so you not known to be Irish no more.”
“He told you that?” A fire erupted inside like someone had thrown a flame to the whiskey. “Apparently, he’s been betraying me a lot longer than I’d thought.” Memories of food and spit launched at his family on the streets of New York when he was young revved his anger once more. He’d spent too long working to escape his lowly immigrant status to bring it to his front door again. “Do I need to worry about you, too, Ghost?”
“No, sir. I’m loyal.” His southern drawl deepened as if to prove his loyalty. “You treat me too good. I’m not going back to the panning or begging.”
“Good.”
“But you did bring Miss McKinnie here. Forgive me for saying, but doesn’t that make her your responsibility?”
Responsibility. A word he never wanted to be branded with again in his life. “I know she’s from where you grew up, but I can’t have her here. Not when I need to introduce my bride to society and convince the big investors to work with me again. If not, I won’t be able to recover. And that means you’re back to panning or begging and I’ll be by your side.”
Ghost nodded and took a step toward the door, but Ed realized this man was the only friend he had left in the world. The only one who still had his trust. Even if he was a servant—no, assistant—he needed him more than any other man at the moment, so he lifted his less-expensive whiskey to offer him some.
“No sir. I don’t partake. Not no more.” Ghost’s gaze traveled to the floor and the sin below.
Ed returned the crystal decanter to the tray. “Based on her letters, my bride’s well versed in entertaining since her father owns a large import and export business in New York City and is excellent with navigating parlor politics. Tomorrow it’s imperative that I secure the one investment to cover my current debt and enough to host a few events to recruit more investors. Not to mention Miss Folsom’s dowry.”
