“Will I see you both at church on Sunday?” Melody asked, looking first at Jefferson and then settling her gaze on Charles.
“I’ll be there,” Decker replied with a huge smile.
Curse the man, he was always so happy. Jefferson wasn’t sure what Charles Decker had to be so joyful about. From what little he’d heard the man say, he knew Charles didn’t even like banking.
Jefferson knew very little else about Decker, except that he had two older brothers. Jefferson had no desire to work with Jacob again, but at least he had been more settled about the process. Charles seemed to need to prove he was on top of each and every matter, whereas Jacob had been relaxed about the business.
It had been Jacob’s idea to set up a bank in Cheyenne, and he had bored Jefferson with lengthy stories about how he’d put together reports and charts to prove to his father what a wise investment a savings and loan operation could be in Cheyenne. Jacob had been certain Cheyenne was to be the next Denver or Kansas City, with the railroad leading the way for settlement. Jefferson thought he was probably right enough about how the town would grow. The Union Pacific had great plans. If they carried through, the entire area would be a crossroads for travel, ranching, and all sorts of industries.
“You are apparently miles away in your thoughts, Jefferson.”
He looked up at the sound of his name. Melody stood watching him, almost studiously. “I am sorry. I have so much on my mind today. Did you ask me something?”
She shook her head. “It wasn’t important. I’ll be on my way. My lunchtime is nearly over.” She moved toward the door, and Jefferson started to come around the cage area to help her, but Charles was there first. He opened the door.
“I shall see you at the Coopers’ later this afternoon. If you need help with planting, I can assist.”
“Thanks, Charlie. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Once she was gone, Charles closed the door and headed back for his office. “You should probably go to lunch soon,” he told Jefferson.
Jefferson waited until Charles had closed his office door to sneer. He was coming to hate the man. Jefferson wasn’t exactly certain it was anything personal. He hated all men who had a position of authority over him. He always had.
Jefferson knocked on Charlie’s door a few minutes later. He didn’t wait for Charlie’s call to enter but opened the door. “I’m leaving for lunch,” he announced.
Charlie was going to reprimand him for not waiting until his knock was acknowledged, but he said nothing about it. “Enjoy your meal, and please leave my door open so that I can keep an eye out for customers.”
Jefferson didn’t reply and turned to go. Charlie watched as he headed out the front door. He was a strange man, to be sure. His attitude was almost childish at times. He seemed snobbish with certain people but fawned over others. He definitely took an interest in Melody Doyle.
A few moments later, the front door to the bank opened, and Charlie got to his feet and went in greeting. He found Melody’s father and extended his hand.
“How good to see you up and around, Mr. Doyle. Is the back doing better?”
“A wee bit,” the man admitted. “Have ya a moment of time? I’d like to ask ya some questions regardin’ international bankin’ matters.”
This took Charlie by surprise. “Of course. Come into my office. I’ve been wanting to talk to you as well. I’ll need to leave the door open in case other customers come by. My assistant, Jefferson Lane, is at lunch, so I’m afraid I must keep watch over all.”
“That’s no trouble to me,” Mr. Doyle replied. “Before we talk business, maybe ya could tell me how yar enjoyin’ Cheyenne.”
Charlie chuckled. “It’s quite a change from Chicago, but, you know, I am enjoying it very much. I think I’ve a mind to call it home.”
“And why would that be?”
Leading the way to his office, Charlie gave a shrug. “It just feels right. I prayed about it after my father asked me to take the position. It felt right then as well. God wants me here for His purposes. That’s all I know.” He motioned to the leather chair situated in front of his desk. “Please have a seat.”
“Are ya enjoyin’ workin’ for the bank?”
Charlie took his seat as Mr. Doyle did the same. “I find it acceptable work, but truth be told, I’d rather be teaching.”
“Teachin’?”
“You seem surprised.” Charlie shrugged. “I was born into a family of bankers. I’ve done my best to honor my father’s wishes, which were to continue the family tradition in banking. My two older brothers had no difficulty with the expectation, and I’m doing my best to follow in their footsteps.”
“But yar heart isn’t in it?”
Charlie lost his smile. “No. It never has been. I love teaching and have long wanted to start a school for boys. I remember a wonderful man who taught at my private school. He made stories come alive, and even mathematics held wonder and fascination. He was also a master of music, and I took a year of piano studies with him. I was never all that good, but he taught me about music and the composers, as well as a variety of instruments. It was all so fascinating. I knew that I wanted to be like him and share knowledge with others—help draw out their talents. That’s what he did for me.”
Mr. Doyle eased back in the chair. “But ya cannot go against yar da.”
