Chapter Seven
"What? A widow dead? Shot a sheriff? A manhunt for the killers? I thought I told you no one got hurt." John was mortified.
Miller had the presence of mind to look disappointed and innocent, "I told them that the old lady just came down the alley hooting and hollering. She hit a rock when she fell. Tripped over them old legs and plumb broke her neck."
"What shall we do? Paul?"
His son-in-law shrugged his shoulders.
"And Lisette and Henry will be here at the end of the week. I hoped to tell her we were on our way to restoring their inheritance. Now this." He fretted.
Paul and Miller rolled their eyes behind his back as he wrung his hands and looked out from his office window.
"We need to open another line of credit for San Francisco. Overages from the fire. We used the surplus from Modesto for the down payment on the marble and custom ironworks from back east for Stockton. Denver barely broke even with salaries after the April snowstorm shut us down for two or more weeks."
"Ok secure the notes. Give it to me I will sign it," still looking out the window, "Lisette will never forgive me if I lose everything again. Her mother didn't."
The men smiled at each other and headed out to the hall.
They rushed back into the room when they heard a loud thud and a gurgling noise. John Taylor collapsed over his chair and hit the floor. Dead.
Miller took the signed note from the desk and added a zero to the amount; "Let's head to the bank and someone will find him in the morning."
Paul looked stricken but agreed. He shut the door gently, taking one last look at his father-in-law.
"Goodbye, old man."
—&—-
A week later…
Lisette Taylor signed several checks from her personal account for the funeral and transporting her father to the crypt by her mother back east.
"I refuse to use the name Franklin—-ever. After this, I swear I shall change Henry's name if it's the last thing I ever do. We won't be able to travel with his coffin due to this business fiasco they are waiting to spring upon me. Wanted to wait until after the funeral. What else could they lay upon my shoulders? My dear aggrieved husband and his partner left town before the funeral. Bastards. I am glad Henry didn't have to live through another rejection. It will be better for my father that he meets my mother without me. He is in for quite the tongue lashing for the past ten years." she said with sarcasm to Anna.
Anna looked at her with wonder. They had arrived to the news of her father's death, her husband and business partner's disappearance, an empty safe and a funeral to plan. Lisette settled Henry into his room with Anna and the servants, took charge and planned a funeral.
"Ma'am you are the strongest person I have ever met." Anna whispered.
"I haven't ever had a choice not to be. I am my mother's daughter. Our choice in husbands was very flawed."
Her eyes grew wide with the bitter, honest appraisal. They were interrupted by a maid and she sent Anna off to check on Henry.
A group of lawyers and a banker knocked on the door. Lisette closed her eyes and took a deep breath; she smoothed down the black mourning dress—"Come in."
Anna opened the door.
"Anna, thank you for your kindness. Please check on Henry. I will be down after this meeting."
"I will, my lady," in a term of endearment.
The men all began at the same time giving condolences to her on the loss of her father.
Lisette took a harsh tone, "Please dispense with the civilities. How bad is the state of his finances?"
A gray-headed lawyer of her father kindly said, "Not well my dear. Where is your husband? Your business manager? A man leader of the company?"
"They left the day before I arrived for the funeral. Left me to my own devices. So you should too. I can take whatever you have to say."
They sighed, "It is difficult news for a lady such as yourself. There are many intricacies to this dilemma. You are the sole heir. A man would be better suited to such news."
She rolled her eyes, "I am a graduate of Vassar. I have a command of the English language and mathematics. You may proceed."
They laid out the financial web of contracts, lines of credit, loans and outstanding obligations.
She jotted notes as they spent two hours explaining the business deals in detail.
They finished and looked at her expectantly, "May we handle this for you? Liquidate assets and pay your debts."
"Not yet. My first impression is to do an accounting of these lines of credit and signature loans. If there is missing money, you have my permission to swear out a warrant to the suspicious parties. We may have significant litigation at hand. Second, I want an accounting of the profit margins of Denver and Modesto. Thirdly, I want a report on the rebuilding in San Francisco. Fourthly, I want to further investigate the Stockton hotel 's viability. Fifthly, you may advertise that I am amenable to selling one or all of these properties by bid. No auction for now."
"Now madam—-"
"I am my father's sole heir and I hold his power of attorney as you all know, I have the final say."
The men were impressed with her comprehension of the situation. The older lawyer mentioned one more problem.
"An elderly widow was murdered at the Stockton site. She was in a confrontation with men who possibly had ties to —-your husband's partner."
Her face could not hide its angst.
"Do you believe it, so?"
All the men in the room shook their heads in a solemn agreement.
"Then I should hazard to make that my first priority. Please keep me informed as the information I asked for comes in. How long do I have?"
"Ninety days before the banks call in their notes."
"Ninety days it is. I will take a tour of the Denver casino before I leave town. I am heading to Stockton to pay my family's respects tomorrow. Then I will visit Modesto and lastly San Francisco. You may reach me by telegram if a need arises."
"Yes Mrs. Franklin."
"Taylor from now on. Lisette Taylor.
—-&—
Heath checked on Grete twice when he got into town. Each time the bell rang, Grete found herself hoping it was him.
She welcomed him with coffee and whatever pastry she had baked that day. He brought a sack of marbles for Kai.
"Picked these up for ya at the general store. Saw ya making do with just three the other day,"
"Thank ya Mista Heath. Mine sack got stole at school."
Grete turned her head and looked at her son with concern.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"The boys said they would make it worse i'ffn I told. Didn't want any more trouble than I had. Still making my way as a man."
Heath took him aside and asked the boy privately why the boys were picking on him.
"Cause I talk funny. Not a real American."
Heath took a deep intake of breath, "Nobody can claim they are better than others. Besides, the Indians were here before all of us."
Grete had pulled two small round tables from the back and four odd chairs Kai found and repaired. She purchased two red and white gingham tablecloths from the mercantile and put a vase of flowers on each table. Several clients had started to come in for her coffee and tea while they sampled her wares. Sales were up.
Adolf was getting better each day but sunlight hurt his eyes and he was suffering from headaches. Grete and Kai were back to running the bakery and taking care of Adolf. He was not feeling well enough to come downstairs.
Heath sent a ranch hand to the bakery with some fresh beef and a case of the first peaches of the summer the next day.
Grete smiled, "These will make a good peach braided bread. I shall set several aside for Heath and his fine family."
Brother Jehu began to come each day for free bread and coffee—and conversations with Cousin Adolf.