“The thing is, Miss Stoker, is that I’m fairly new in town myself, and I’ve come here specifically for the purposes of turning a profit. Your venture doesn’t sound likely to do that.” Wendell Thurgood looked down the length of his nose at Regina. She didn’t believe he was trying to be condescending—rather, he was enough taller that looking down his nose was the only way he could see her.
“I realize it’s a risky venture, but what would America be without those who took risks?” If all else failed, she could rely on his sense of patriotism, couldn’t she? “Why, the very town of Creede itself is made up of those who dared to take chances. Look at all the new businesses being built, every one of them by an entrepreneur with something to lose. It’s rather exciting, when you think about it—all the possibilities just lying in wait.”
He gave a hmph. “Allow me to repeat back to you what you’ve proposed, Miss Stoker, and perhaps you’ll be able to see my dilemma. I’ve come to Creede with a certain amount of capital. I have purchased some land and some buildings, investing every penny I brought with me in the hopes of doubling or tripling that money within a reasonable time frame. I would do this by selling the land and the buildings for a profit. Now you come here and ask me to rent you a building instead of selling it, you plan to sell tea—which few people around here drink—and you feel that you’ll make enough money to turn a profit yourself. Does any of this make solid business sense to you?”
Regina glanced at Ariadne, knowing that her sister wouldn’t want to join in the conversation, but needing some strength. “Mr. Thurgood, I know it’s not entirely logical. I’m the sort of person who thrives on logic, actually, and so of course I’ve reasoned all this out. I had just hoped that we could put our brains to the side for just a moment and consider this with our hearts.”
“Using my heart has never turned me a penny in all my days, and I’d be shocked if it started now,” he replied.
“I understand, and I don’t mean to take up so much of your time. Reverend Bing indicated that he felt you could help us, but I’m sure he didn’t understand your position.” Regina moved to stand up, but Mr. Thurgood held up a hand.
“Reverend Bing, you say?”
“Yes, sir. He sent along this letter.” Regina pulled it from her bag and passed it across the table.
He picked it up, unfolded it, and read it. “I wish you’d shown this to me before,” he said after a moment. “It puts an entirely different light on things.”
“Oh? How is that?”
“Reverend Bing did me a kindness, and now I’m honored to assist him in return. Yes, Miss Stoker, I’m pleased to agree to your terms. I have a small shop with a bedroom above it that I think would be perfect for you and your sister.” He nodded at Ariadne, who had been so quiet during the interview, it was as though she hadn’t been present at all.
Regina blinked. She’d hoped that he’d have a change of heart, but she hadn’t expected it to be so sudden and dramatic. “What condition is the building in, Mr. Thurgood? When can we move in?”
“The bedroom can be used now. It has a bedframe in it, although you’ll want a new tick. The shop portion needs to be painted, but I’m sure you’ll find plenty of willing hands for hire. I’d say you could be open within a week, depending on when your supplies come in, and you could start living upstairs this very day.”
“I . . . can’t even tell you what a miracle this is,” Regina replied. “Thank you so very much.”
He folded the letter and slid it across the table to her. “I’ll draw up some papers for you to sign, but you can consider the building yours as of now. I’ll send one of my men over to unlock it for you now, if you’d like to have your things sent over.”
“I would very much. Thank you.” Regina shook his hand, knowing that her fingers were trembling so violently, he’d be able to feel it, then she and Ariadne left the building.
Ariadne grabbed her arm as soon as they were outside. “That was nothing short of astounding,” she said. “How did you manage it?”
“I had nothing to do with it,” Regina said. “It was all Reverend Bing.”
“He must carry some sort of weight we never realized,” Ariadne replied. “And to think that he would use it on our behalf—how did we get so blessed?”
“I wish I knew.” Regina’s heart was full to bursting with gratitude. She had gone from being skeptical about this tea shop to loving the idea, and now she was so passionate about it, it would devastate her if it couldn’t come to pass. It was happening—it was really happening. “Let’s go speak to the bank next.”
When they entered, they met with a man who introduced himself as Byron Cromwell. “And how may I help you?” he asked, motioning for them to take seats across from him at his desk.
“We’re opening a business here in Creede—a tea shop, to be exact, and we need to open an account here.” Regina wanted to rely on their own merits instead of using Reverend Bing’s name everywhere they went, but she also didn’t want to be too proud to accept the hand of help they’d been given, so she withdrew the reverend’s letter from her bag and passed it over to the banker. He read it and nodded.
“I’ll be pleased to open an account for you, and also to extend you a line of credit, should it be needed.”
“A line of credit? But you just met us, sir. That seems a bit risky on your part, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
Mr. Cromwell motioned to the letter. “Reverend Bing recommends you, and that’s high praise.”
The sisters arranged for the bank account to be put in both their names and made a deposit of half the money they’d brought with them, then left the building, astonished.
“I’m completely at a loss to explain it,” Regina said as they walked back to the hotel. “I’ve always believed in the hand of providence, but this seems a bit . . . well, overly much, actually.”
Ariadne raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying that the Almighty is blessing us more than you feel comfortable with?”
“No, of course not, and don’t be blasphemous. It just doesn’t make sense.”
They decided to get some lunch in the hotel dining room and took their seats. After she placed her order, Regina pulled the two letters from her bag and began to unfold the first one.
“Isn’t that private?” Ariadne asked, glancing around as though checking to see if anyone was watching.
“These are letters given to us that are about us. We have every right to read them.” Regina smoothed the one she held on the table, and then her eyes grew wide. It was impossible.
“What? What’s the matter?”
Without saying a word, Regina passed the letter over to her sister, who picked it up and read it with much the same reaction.
“I don’t understand,” Ariadne said. “How . . . Why would the reverend do that?”
“I don’t know.” Regina sat back in her chair, utterly shocked. Reverend Bing had told the bank that he would be willing to back any loan the sisters took out and were unable to repay. “He doesn’t know us at all—we’re two strange women from another country who simply arrived on his doorstep and asked for guidance. Why is he doing this?”
“He didn’t look wealthy,” Ariadne said, sounding puzzled.
“He’s not—reverends are never wealthy. He’s just put himself in great financial peril for our benefit.” Regina snatched up the other letter and unfolded it. “And here, he’s told Mr. Thurgood much the same—that he’ll make good on any payments we’re unable to remit. This is just astonishing. I don’t see how we can let him do it—it’s too much.”
Ariadne glanced around again. “But Mr. Honeycutt is gone, and we don’t have a way of getting out to Bachelor to speak with him.”
“Yes, we do,” Regina said, feeling a sense of resolution descending over her. “We’re going to eat and then we’re going to locate the livery stable Mr. Honeycutt mentioned. We’ll take ourselves out to see Reverend Bing this very afternoon.”
***
Another day of mending fences. Jake pulled off his hat, wiped his face with his bandana, then replaced the hat, taking a moment to stretch his back. He’d be having his lunch break shortly, but until then, he had another several yards of wire to stretch along this fence before he’d consider it done. Fences broke down through regular use, but they also broke down when someone decided to cut the wires, and Jake hadn’t decided yet which this was. He’d be telling Mr. Clark about it at his first opportunity. Maybe they’d want to set up a guard to keep an eye on things.
He bent back to his work, twisting the wire to make it taut around the pole. Sweat ran into his eyes, making them sting.
“Whatcha doin’?”
He jolted upright to find Susie standing on the other side of the fence, her arms crossed on the top rail. The piece of wheat she was chewing on bobbed up and down as she spoke.
“I believe this is called fixing a fence.” He took a corner of his bandana and wiped his eyes with it. He didn’t have much patience on this hot day for prickly angels who ran around disguised as little girls. Or maybe, for little girls who ran around pretending to be angels.
“Seems to me that you ought to be headin’ out to Bachelor about now,” she said nonchalantly, taking the wheat from her mouth and twirling the stalk between her fingers.
“Bachelor? Why would I be going to Bachelor? I was there yesterday.” Jake clipped the end of the wire and moved on to the next spot. He was seeing things because he was hungry—as soon as he ate his lunch, Susie would disappear and he could get on with his work.
“I thought you were sweet on Miss Stoker.”
“I’m not sweet . . .” He stopped himself. It would be lying if he said he didn’t have any feelings for her at all, but those were more like first glance feelings. He had no call saying he was or wasn’t sweet on her at this point and time. “I think we’re becoming friends,” he said at last, “or at least acquaintances.”
“Well,” Susie said, popping the wheat back in her mouth, “that acquaintance of yours is about to drive out to see Reverend Bing all on her own.”
“What?” Jake jumped up so fast, he dropped his tools on the ground and had to retrieve them. “What are you talking about?”
“Just what I said. Thought you’d want to know.” And with that, she was gone again.
Jake threw his tools into his saddlebags and flung his right leg over his horse, pulling himself up all the way after Butternut was already on the move. It was difficult to right himself with the pull of gravity, but he did it, and they raced back to the bunkhouse as quick as they could go. He dumped a bucket of water over his head, yelled out to Finny where he was going, and then he and Butternut tore down the trail.
Foolish woman, taking off like that. What was she thinking? She couldn’t even handle being a passenger in a buggy going along that route, and now she intended to drive it herself?
Panic clenched in his stomach, and he urged Butternut to go even faster. Miss Regina Stoker was going to get herself killed.