Golden Chances (Jordan-Alexander Family 1)

She walked quickly down the street, not daring to slow her steps until she reached the telegraph office.

“What can I do for you, Miss Collins?” Bert Winthrop stood behind the counter.

“I need to send a telegram, Mr. Winthrop, right away.”

“Who to?” Winthrop grabbed a blank sheet of paper and a pencil.

“Mr. Reese Jordan, the Presidential Suite, Madison Hotel, Washington City.”

“What’s the message?”

“I’ll write it out for you.” Faith took the sheet of paper and wrote out her request. “I’ll wait for a reply.” She handed him the message along with payment.

“The reply might take a while,” Bert warned.

“That’s all right, Mr. Winthrop, I’ll wait.” She sat on the hard wooden bench in front of the iron stove and waited while Bert Winthrop telegraphed the message.

* * *

Reese Jordan sat lounging in a leather wing chair in the smoking room of the Madison Hotel, a thin cigar clenched between his teeth. He sat upright as the messenger called his name.

“Here.” Reese folded a newspaper and tossed it aside.

“Telegram for you, Mr. Jordan.” The boy handed Reese a folded slip of paper.

Reese flipped him a coin. He unfolded the paper, then decided against reading it in the lounge. He refolded the note and grasping it firmly, left the lounge, and hurried up the stairs to the privacy of his suite.

His fingers shook slightly as he leaned against the door of his suite and unfolded the paper. The message was brief and to the point: I ACCEPT. REQUEST IMMEDIATE ADVANCE ON SALARY. SEND $3086.34 TO THE BANK OF VIRGINIA. THANK YOU. FAITH ELIZABETH COLLINS.

Reese’s triumphant shout brought David running from the other room. “She accepted. Start packing, cousin, you’re going to Richmond.”

“I’m going? I thought you would want to go,” David said.

“It’s better if you go,” Reese told him. “More businesslike.”

“What about the arrangements?” David asked.

“I’ll take care of everything. Are the contracts ready?”

David nodded. “Everything except the amounts.”

“We’ll go over those when she gets here. Here take this.” Reese walked to his desk and began writing. “It’s a bank draft. See that it’s deposited in Faith’s bank account. Oh, and make sure, the older ladies have access to the account.”

David glanced at the bank draft. “Have you lost your mind, Reese? This draft is for ten thousand dollars. You haven’t signed the contracts yet, or settled on a fee. This is too much.”

“Not for this. Don’t you see, David? The money is my guarantee. She can’t possibly pay this back. She’ll have to stay as long as I need her.”

“I have a better way to guarantee she’ll stay,” David said. “You don’t know how much this plan of yours is going to cost. She could ask for an exorbitant amount.”

Reese looked down at the telegram in his hand and smiled. “The woman who wouldn’t accept a fruit basket? I don’t think so.”

“Why not make sure?” David said. “Marry her.”

“I’m not interested in standing up with her in front of a preacher.”

“You won’t have to. You can marry her by proxy. I’ll stand up for you,” David explained. “It’s all very legal. Quicker and easier than arranging an adoption. And quieter. One she leaves Wyoming, you’ll be guaranteed a divorce on grounds of desertion.”

“If she leaves,” Reese pointed out.