“Not only do we need to pray, but we need to be keeping our eyes open. I’m sure Jed might know a fella or two who would make a decent husband.”
“I can also ask Edward. He spent most of his time with Fred Henderson....” Marybeth’s words faded.
“We all miss Fred, to be sure,” Granny Taylor said. “And we’ll miss Eve and the young’uns.”
Fred had worked with the town marshal’s office and had hired Marybeth’s husband, Edward, to be a deputy in Cheyenne. Unfortunately, Fred had been shot and killed not even two weeks back, and his sweet wife had fled the town she hated. The loss was still keen, and none of the women had quite been able to move on.
“I find myself still expecting Eve to come through the door since it was her house to begin with,” Marybeth admitted. “She was such a dear friend.”
“You can’t blame her for leaving. This town would only serve to remind her of what she lost.” Granny shook her head. “I am heartily sorry for that woman. Left with two little boys and a babe soon to be born.”
“She’s got a good family,” Marybeth threw in. “They love her most dearly and will see to it that she has everything she needs. They’re quite wealthy.”
Granny gave a sigh. “But money can’t bring back the one thing she truly longs for. We need to remember her in prayer as well.”
The women were used to getting together to pray on a regular basis. Often they would talk with one another for an hour or more before speaking to the Lord, so Granny’s comment was expected.
“Yes, and we should pray for my da,” Melody requested. “His back is hurting him something fierce. He doesn’t say much about it, but I know he’s in pain.”
“And pray for my Jed. His arthritis is causing him grief in his hands. A mechanic with bad hands won’t be much use to the railroad. And while we’ve saved a good bit of money, it won’t last that long if he finds himself out of work. Of course, we could go live with one of the children and make ourselves useful to them.”
“I’d hate to see you leave Cheyenne.” Having Granny Taylor here was one of the reasons Melody wanted to stay. She was a sort of mother figure to the younger woman, and after so many years without her own mother, Melody cherished Granny’s advice.
“Say, don’t you have a birthday coming in a few days? The thirteenth, isn’t it?” Granny asked.
“Yes, I’ll be twenty-six.” Melody hadn’t been overly concerned about it. Her father always remembered and took her out to dinner for the event. And he always had a gift for her. His gifts weren’t bought without thought either. He was most meticulous in what he gave her.
Granny laughed. “Just a youngster. Well, we should plan a party.”
“I don’t need a party, Granny.”
Marybeth’s frown finally left her face, and she offered a grin. “No, she needs a husband. Maybe we could have a birthday party and invite all the eligible bachelors in town.”
Melody chuckled. “That would save Da the time and trouble of running them down for himself.”
“Maybe he could just take out an ad in the paper,” Marybeth suggested.
“Or announce it from the pulpit at church,” Granny countered, more than a little amused by the entire matter. “Goodness, perhaps we could just put up an auction block in the middle of town.”
Melody laughed but wasn’t all that certain her father wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to try any of their suggestions. What exactly had she agreed to? The thought of marrying a stranger was starting to sink in. What would the rest of Cheyenne think when they learned the truth? And what would the men of Cheyenne think? Would they think her wanton? Or perhaps unreasonable and difficult since she hadn’t been able to find a man on her own?
Things were about to get very interesting in the Doyle world. No doubt about it.
2
“Charles, banking is in theDecker blood. You have your Dutch ancestors to thank forthat.”His father had pointed this out on more than one occasion for the youngest of his three sons.
If banking truly ran in the Decker blood, then Charlie was certain he’d been adopted. Even now, as he reviewed the small Cheyenne Savings and Loan his brother Jacob had started the year before, Charlie couldn’t find a single thing that held his interest.
“I didn’t expect you to come until summer.” This came from the bank’s assistant manager and teller, Jefferson Lane. At twenty-eight, the man was eight years Charlie’s junior. He was the epitome of what Charlie’s father would have expected in a banker. Jefferson was neatly groomed and wore a stylish suit. His black hair was cut close and parted on the right side, and his face was clean-shaven. He carried himself like a man who’d been raised in high society. Shoulders back, chest out, and he wasn’t afraid to look you in the eye.
“Yes, well, there was a change of plans. Father felt it was important to have me here now. I got into town two days agobut wanted to settle in before coming here.” Charles smiled. “I can see he had nothing to fear, however. The place seems to be in order. Have you been in banking long, Mr. Lane?”
“Call me Jefferson or Jeff.” Jefferson smiled.
“And you should call me Charlie.” He immediately regretted it and spoke again. “Actually, Mr. Decker is probably best. That way when my brother returns you won’t have to change names again.” He hoped that would sound reasonable to Lane. He didn’t want to come across as snobbish. Truth was, he could use a friend, but Father always maintained you didn’t befriend your employees.
Jefferson nodded. “When does your brother plan to return?”
