A Treasure Concealed (14 page)

“Nonsense,” Arnold interrupted. “It would be foolishness, and you know it. Honestly, Caeden, I cannot allow you to destroy your future. Nor can I stand by and let your bad feelings for your father tear apart the empire he built.”

Caeden fixed him with a hard look. His eyes narrowed and he leaned forward slightly. “You, sir, have no say in the matter.”

Arnold looked shocked. He recovered quickly, however, and beamed Caeden a smile. “I do apologize. I sometimes let my zeal get the best of me. I only want the very best for you, son. It is my desire that you and Catherine would know wealth and prosperity all of your lives. If you so dislike running the industry, you should consider allowing me to work as your manager. I know the business quite well, having been your father's associate for so very many years. I realize you hold your uncle in high esteem, and I would not wish that to change. However, while he might well advise you on future decisions, he knows very little about your father's work.”

Exhaustion began to take the fight out of Caeden. With his appetite satisfied, he longed only to crawl into bed and sleep.

“One thing you must understand,” Arnold continued, “this next political election will change the country. William McKinley is much needed to see our great nation thrive. His campaign manager, Mark Hanna, is even now soliciting donations to secure McKinley's election.”

“You mean buy it, don't you?” Caeden folded his napkin and placed it aside his plate. “As I mentioned before, I have no desire to entangle myself in politics.”

“But there is so much at stake.” Arnold sounded almost frantic. “You need to understand. The Democrats have nominated that repulsive William Jennings Bryan to become president. Bryan stands fast on his support of a free silver inflationary economy in order to benefit the farmers and laborers. Never mind how that will destroy the owners of the industries that employ those laborers and buy those farm goods. We must act on this matter to be sure that Bryan never comes to power. Surely you can see that.”

Caeden suppressed a yawn. “Right now I am able to see very little.”

“Father, I am quite exhausted myself,” Catherine said, reaching out to touch her father's hand. “Do you suppose we might retire and continue this in the morning?”

Her father smiled and patted her hand. “Of course, my dear. I do apologize to you, and to you, Caeden. It was thoughtless of me to insist we discuss this tonight. What say we meet here again for breakfast after we are well rested?”

Caeden wanted to refuse but knew that to do so would only cause delay in getting to bed. “Very well. I will meet you here in the morning.” He got to his feet. “Now, if you'll please excuse me.”

Catherine nodded, and Bishop Arnold stood also. “Good night,” the older man said. “I will look forward to our conversation tomorrow. I'm sure after a comfortable night's sleep you'll see things differently.”

Caeden knew that sleep wouldn't change his mind, but he said nothing. Instead he crossed the room to the waitress and handed her enough to pay his own bill. He wasn't about to pay for Arnold's too.

C
aeden arrived early at the restaurant. He'd spent a restless night worrying about Emily and her father, and dreading what was yet to come with Arnold. He thought it most unfair that his first night back in a real bed should be so lacking in peace and sleep. He suppressed a yawn and picked up the newspaper he'd purchased.

The front page boasted an ad that offered fall and winter overcoats on sale for as little as ten dollars. Ten dollars would have fed the Carvers for a month, if not two or three. There were also ads for new wagons and carriages, as well as one for a company that would buy furs. Most of the news articles dealt with issues related to the state. Nothing in particular caught Caeden's attention, and without realizing it, he was once again thinking of Emily Carver.

Despite her cynicism at times, Emily was one of the most content people he'd ever known. She had so little, yet even when she'd lost all of her earthly possessions, she didn't complain or rage at the unfairness of life. She simply took it in stride. Her sorrow came in losing her mother. It was a hardship
to have everything else stripped away, but it was the death of her mother that Emily mourned. Caeden loved that about her. People were always more important than objects. Pity his own father couldn't have felt that way.

Caeden also loved that Emily cared so deeply for her father. But then, he was coming to realize that he loved a great many things about her. And there was the problem. He loved her. He loved her simple nature, her love of family, and even her faith. The few times they had spoken about God, Caeden had been reminded of his mother and her trust in the Almighty.

Caeden's thoughts turned to ponder Nyola Carver's declaration that God had sent him to be a husband to Emily. Her faith was even stronger than that of her daughter, and as Henry had stated, Nyola seemed able to figure out God's direction not only for herself, but also for her loved ones. Could that truly be the case? Did God honestly speak to people in this day and age?

He was still pretending to read the
Great Falls Tribune
when Catherine Arnold approached him. He could smell her floral-scented perfume before he saw her. He lowered the paper and met her gaze.

“Good morning, Caeden. Did you sleep well?” She smiled sweetly and flashed her green eyes at him in an alluring fashion.

Caeden put the newspaper aside and then got to his feet. “Good morning.” He helped her into a chair. “I slept well enough. Where's your father?”

“He's coming. He had something to take care of and said he'd be with us shortly.” She pulled off her gloves. “I hope you don't mind. I thought it would be nice to have a few minutes to talk with you alone.”

“I see.” Caeden picked up his coffee cup and drank. He had no desire to make small talk with Catherine, but he saw no way out of it.

“I know Father can be heavy-handed with his desires, but you must understand that he really does care about you.”

“Let's not play games, Catherine. He cares about my money. That's all. He wants us to marry because he believes it will give him access to the Thibault fortune.”

Catherine looked down at her bare hands. “I suppose there is some truth to that. However, I . . . well . . .”

The approaching waitress silenced anything else Catherine might have said. The woman deposited a platter of eggs and another of sausages before hurrying away from the table. Caeden saw that Catherine was surprised by the amount of food.

“I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of ordering a hearty breakfast for all of us.”

The waitress returned with a plate of biscuits and a bowl of gravy. “If you need anything else, just let me know. Coffee is in the pot, and the cream and sugar are there beside it. There's butter and jam as well.”

Caeden looked at Catherine. “Do you wish to have tea this morning?”

“That would be nice, thank you.” She looked at him as though he'd hung the moon and stars.

“Would you please bring hot tea for the lady?” The waitress nodded and once again disappeared.

“Help yourself.” Caeden took up the platter of eggs. “I think we should eat while it's hot. There's no telling how long your father's business will keep him.”

Catherine took a portion of the eggs. “I'm sorry about last night. Father has been worried about a great many things.”

“No doubt.” Caeden gave himself a healthy serving of eggs, then replaced the platter and picked up the plate of sausages. Again he offered Catherine first choice, but she shook her head.

“I've never really cared for sausage.” She picked up a biscuit. “This will suit me just fine.”

Caeden finished serving himself and waited for her to continue. He was certain she wanted to convince him to help her father and marry her. But he wasn't going to marry her. Not now. Not ever. The sooner she understood that, the better off they'd both be. He started to speak on the matter, but Catherine once again commented.

“There is something I would really like to tell you,” she began. “I think it might be useful to both of us.”

He raised a brow and halted his fork halfway to his mouth. “Do tell.”

She toyed with the biscuit, pinching off a piece and buttering it. “Father has always had his plans, and he has never considered that anyone would dare stand up to him. You have quite vexed him with your ability to think for yourself. I'm not sure why he never saw your strength prior to your father's death. I certainly did.”

“Your father only sees what he wants to see.” Caeden popped the forkful of eggs into his mouth.

“Be that as it may, it's important for you to know that I am not of the same mind.”

Caeden's curiosity grew, but just then Catherine spied her father. “Oh, there's Father now. I suppose this talk will have to wait.”

She sounded almost perturbed, but Caeden couldn't imagine obedient little Catherine Arnold showing anything but the sweetest nature. She had been amply trained by her father to simper, pout, and smile upon his command.

“Sorry for my delay,” Arnold said, taking the seat opposite Caeden once again. “I'm glad to see you didn't wait on me.”

“Help yourself. I thought the least I could do was buy break
fast.” Caeden had only done so to hurry their mealtime together, but he could see it put Arnold in a positive state of mind.

The man smiled and gave a nod. “Most generous of you. This will allow us to discuss matters undisturbed.”

Caeden steeled himself. He was determined to not lose his temper. He would hear Bishop Arnold out in full, and then he would excuse himself. He had plans to spend the day shopping for the Carvers. They had no knowledge of it, but Caeden intended to send them a wagonful of supplies, including a beautiful new gown for Emily. It might be unseemly to purchase clothes for a woman unrelated to him, but Caeden didn't care. He wanted her to have something new and lovely. Something no one had ever worn before. Something she could call her own.

“I am hopeful you have given great consideration to what I said last evening,” Bishop Arnold began. He piled copious amounts of food onto his plate and dug in almost immediately.

Caeden lifted his coffee cup. “I'm afraid my fatigue left me unable to think about much of anything.” He took a long drink of the now tepid brew.

Arnold spoke between mouthfuls. Well, very nearly. At times he didn't even bother to clear his mouth before he droned on. “The situation is one that could very well see this country face another collapse. We're already feeling the effects of the devaluing of silver in '93. It wasn't only the mineowners who took a great loss. This conflict with our monetary system has left many people and their fortunes in jeopardy. Your father was smart enough to diversify his holdings. He invested in so many different areas that you will never need fear a complete loss. That's why I believe it is important that you associate yourself with the political arena and put forth some of that fortune to assure your future.”

Caeden met the man's green-eyed gaze. His eyes were very nearly the same shade as Catherine's, but they gave the man a devious rather than attractive look.

“As I said last night,” Caeden replied, “I'm not interested in involving myself in politics. As far as I'm concerned that matter is closed.”

“But . . . but . . .” Arnold sputtered, “you can't be serious. You have responsibilities.”

“And I know full well what they are,” Caeden said. “I am nearly thirty years old and college educated. You doubt my abilities and my experience, but I assure you I am well aware of what is happening in this country. I have been out among the people who are suffering most. You should try doing that sometime. Then perhaps you would truly understand what is needed politically and economically.”

Arnold seemed momentarily taken aback. He cleared his throat and seemed at a loss for words. Caeden hoped it would end the discussion altogether.

“Now, if that is the only thing you came to discuss, I would like to finish my breakfast and bid you both good-bye. I have a great many things I need to handle here in Great Falls before I leave to join my colleagues in Havre.” Caeden picked up a biscuit and slathered it with jam. He gave a sidewise glance at Catherine and could see that she looked worried.

“Of course that isn't the only thing. There is the matter of your marriage to my daughter.” Arnold reached out to take another helping of sausage. “While I long understood and accepted your desire to make your own way in the world, as you so eagerly pointed out, you are approaching your thirtieth birthday. You must now consider your marriage.”

“There's nothing to consider.” He popped a piece of the biscuit into his mouth and chewed very slowly. He knew his
words and actions would irritate the older man, but he didn't care. He hadn't come here to make Bishop Arnold happy.

“You are wrong, Caeden. There is a great deal to consider. Weddings do not take place overnight. There needs to be a great deal of planning and . . . financial consideration. You and Catherine cannot have a shoddy wedding.”

Caeden poured more coffee, then took a drink. When he'd finished, he dabbed his mouth with the napkin and folded it in a most meticulous manner. Finally he could see that Arnold was about to burst from waiting for Caeden's response.

“You are correct. We cannot have a shoddy wedding or any other kind. I have no intention of marrying your daughter, as I told you long ago and reiterated at my father's funeral. You and my father made this arrangement, not I. Neither of you considered my desires or feelings in the matter, even though I made them quite clear at the time. I also doubt very seriously that you considered Catherine's.”

“My daughter knows her place. She does as she is told,” Arnold protested. “She respects her father's wishes, knowing that I want only the best for her.”

“Well, the best isn't a husband who doesn't love her.”

Arnold stared at him for a moment, then laughed. “Is that all that worries you? Love will follow, my boy. You'll see. Catherine will be a most attentive and loving wife, and you will soon learn to appreciate her and love her. I have no doubt of this.”

“Well, be that as it may, I refuse to even consider marrying a woman I do not love. A woman whose father I cannot respect.”

Arnold nearly choked. He drew the coffee cup quickly to his lips and swallowed. “I am deeply shocked and offended by your comment.”

Caeden shrugged. “I don't know why it should come as a surprise. You know my feelings for my father and his way of doing business. As you pointed out, you were his closest associate, and you do business just as he did.” Caeden paused for a moment to let the words sink in. He doubted that Arnold would leave the matter lie, but at least he would think twice about trying to hold Caeden's father up as a symbol to be respected and followed.

With great care Caeden folded his newspaper. “I am sorry that you made the trip all this way only to hear what I have told you on other occasions.” He looked at Arnold. The man was clearly unhappy. His face had reddened, and he'd finally stopped eating.

Caeden got to his feet. “I do hope, Catherine, that I have not upset you overly much. You are a beautiful woman, and your charms are evident. I am certain you will have no difficulty in landing another potential husband.”

“Wait. Wait just a minute,” Arnold said. He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “I have this in writing. This is the contract your father and I made. You'll see it very clearly states that you will marry Catherine and I will obtain ten percent of Thibault Industries.”

Caeden took the offered paper and glanced over it. He then handed it back to Arnold and shook his head. “As you will also see, my signature is nowhere on the contract. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a great deal to accomplish today.”

He left the room knowing that he had not heard the last of Bishop Arnold. It would be wonderful to imagine that the man would accept the truth and return to New York, but Caeden knew better than to count on such a thing. Arnold was too much like his father, and his father never took no as an answer when he was determined to have his own way.