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"What about love?" James added, folding his arms across his chest.
"You can't honestly believe that man loves her?"
"I most certainly do. He's a fine, honest, hardworking man, and I'm proud to have him as a son-in-law."
"This is too much," Granger cried. "He's a gunslinger. Gunslinger. He's killed men, and might I add for money. This is the type of man you want your daughter to spend the rest of her life with?"
"He did what he had to do. I wonder if you could do the same." James said in defense of Zac. "Or," he added with anger in his voice. "Would you have chosen to behave as your father —underhanded and cruel?"
Granger was affronted by his outrageous insult. "I beg your pardon, James?"
"I had promised myself I would not bring it up to you, that you weren't responsible for your father's past actions. You were only a young boy. How could you know what he had done?"
James shook his head.
Granger began to sweat. He had the most dreadful feeling.
"You know nothing, do you?"
"No, James. I know not of what you speak, although I would like a clarification on the matter."
"I shall gladly provide that for you." He looked the young man straight in the eyes. "Your father was the reason my wife left all those years ago."
"What? That's ridiculous." Granger shook his head in disbelief.
"No, it isn't. Your father discovered Lenore was part Cheyenne. How, I don't know, though I wish I did. Someone had to supply him with the information, and I wish I knew who it was. He threatened her with exposure, threatened the safety of her husband and daughter, threatened to use the information to cause the financial ruin of the Winthrop Bank… unless she agreed to become his mistress."
Granger was shocked and disgusted. His old man never could keep his pants on. Now, even in death, he came back to haunt him, to destroy his chance of building a banking empire far superior and more powerful than anyone had ever imagined. There was much work for him to do if he was still to see his dream become a reality.
"No comment, Granger?" James asked, disturbed by the other man's silence.
Granger rubbed his hands and sadly shook his head. "What can I say, James? Sorry doesn't seem sufficient for the hurt my father's deviousness has caused you and your family. If there were a way I could repay you, I would. I regret most sincerely that my father caused your family such pain."
James was touched by Granger's sincerity. He had expected rejection and disbelief of what Ralph Madison had done. He also felt a sense of guilt for laying the blame at Granger's feet. It wasn't his fault. "You did nothing wrong, Granger. I should never have mentioned it to you."
"No," Granger insisted. "You had every right, and now I can at least extend my apologies to Prudence. I owe her that much."
"As you wish, Granger," James said, sorry he had even brought the matter up.
Granger took advantage of his moment of weakness. "James, if you intend to open a branch of the Winthrop Bank here, who will run the bank in Boston?"
James thought on his question. "I'll have to give it much consideration. It is a huge responsibility."
Granger pumped his chest out and stood tall. "Yes, a major responsibility. You will need a person who is trustworthy, dependable, and knowledgeable in the field of finance."
"I will give it thought," James said. "Now about this field, I'm thinking of purchasing it. It sits in a good central location."
"A wise decision, James. Very wise," Granger agreed, with a smile that would have made the devil himself cringe.
Prudence knocked on the door of Zac's study, then opened it slowly and peeked in. "Busy?" she asked, her cheeks flushed and a smudge of flour clinging to her chin.
"Never too busy for my wife," Zac winked, before holding out his hand to her.
She smiled like a small child about to spill a tale to her parent. She hurried to him, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it. "Oh, Zac, I can't thank you enough for forcing me to speak to my mother."
Zac pulled her into the protective circle of his arms and kissed the tip of her nose. "I didn't force you, honey."
Her smile turned generous. "Sure you didn't. I walked into the kitchen on my own. Your hand on my back, pushing me, had nothing to do with it."
"Prudence Agatha," he said authoritatively, "if you didn't really want to talk with your mother, God himself couldn't have kept you in that kitchen."
Her expression changed to one of wonderment. "You're right. I stayed because I wanted to and for no other reason, and I'm so glad I did. I've learned so much."
“Things patched up?" He gave her waist a friendly squeeze.
