Chapter One
Wyoming Territory, summer 1890
Hadn’t he promised himself not to get into a situation like this again?
Jonas White stood on the dusty street in his Sunday suit, letter clutched in his hand, gazing up at the fine house. It seemed too much of a coincidence that his neighbor and closest friend–although they were two generations apart in age–was related to a wealthy banker when Jonas desperately needed a loan. And the letter Jonas had promised to deliver for his friend would grant him access to the banker he’d been trying to see all day.
But Jonas had stopped questioning the Lord’s hand in things once he’d met his neighbors, the Nelsons, just over five years ago. Staring at the light spilling from the glass-paned windows onto the large, well-kept yard reminded Jonas of another place and time, and how as a child he’d often looked in on some of Philadelphia’s wealthy families. Like those stately townhouses, this house was ostentatious. Two-story and much larger than the other homes on the street. Or in the whole town of Calvin, Wyoming, for that matter.
Jonas resolutely pushed the painful memories to the back of his mind. His daughter needed him to do this, and he couldn’t fail her.
Sounds of voices and tinkling china trickled out from the wide-open front door. Was the banker hosting a party? If so, this might not be the best time to call, but Jonas needed to take care of business before the woman who was watching Breanna for him left town on the next Eastbound train.
He brushed at some dust on his jacket sleeve and took a deep breath, reminding himself that his loan was a reasonable request. If only he felt more comfortable interacting with high-society people like the banker, but his upbringing didn’t exactly lend itself to that.
Trudging up the steps before he could change his mind, Jonas entered the elegant home. The entry hall was empty, but voices drew him to a parlor packed with people.
One or two of them shook his hand, welcoming him as he moved through the crowded room. Most ignored him. Jonas scanned each face, looking for the portly man with salt-and-pepper hair that he’d glimpsed briefly on the boardwalk this morning. No sign of the banker.
Conversations ebbed and flowed around him as he moved through the parlor and into another lamp-lit room in search of Mr. Castlerock. He knew he was out of place, and the disdainful looks he received from some of the partygoers only confirmed it, made him feel as awkward and unwelcome as he’d felt at eighteen in the Broadhursts’ Philadelphia home.
“Can I help ya, son?”
Jonas turned at the voice and caught sight of a plump woman with an apron covering most of her ample figure. Here was someone from his class, someone who could help him. Relief flooded him.
“Yes, I’m looking for Mr. Castlerock. I’m to deliver this letter, and I need to speak with him on another matter–”
The woman took the letter from Jonas. “I’ll put it aside for the boss. Last I saw him, he was in his study, down there…”
She nodded toward a door down the hall and her voice trailed off as she bustled away in the opposite direction.
“Thanks,” Jonas murmured to himself.
He couldn’t be sure which room she’d meant–there were two doorways on the left and one on the right, so he peeked into each as he passed. Finally, he had no choice but to enter the room at the end of the hall.
So intent was he on locating the banker, Jonas didn’t notice her at first. But as he tried to slip through the crowd without bumping into any of the fine furnishings or well-dressed guests, he caught a glimpse of upswept copper curls, burnished to fire by the lamplight.
He’d only ever seen one person with that color hair in his entire life.
Jonas froze as a tall man in a black jacket moved away and his view became unhindered. It was her, wearing the frilliest, fanciest peach colored dress he’d ever seen.
The girl he’d admired from afar, back in Philadelphia. Penny Castlerock.
What was she doing in Wyoming?
…