"Yes, ma'am."
"Now, can you please tell me if the Ajax Saloon, Bank, and Assayer's Office is open this time of morning?"
The bell over the front door to the depot jangled merrily. Carl Baker looked over at his latest customer. "I'll be with you in a moment, Miss Delight, as soon as I finish with this lady."
Mary glanced over her shoulder at Mr. Baker's customer. Miss Delight was a stunningly attractive woman in her late thirties or early forties. Her blond hair shimmered beneath her bright blue feathered hat and she wore a dress fashioned after the latest Paris styles in a matching shade of blue. Mary noticed that her eyes were the same bright blue.
Carl Baker turned his attention back to Mary, but took a moment longer than necessary to reply. "Yes, ma'am, it's open."
Mary sensed something was wrong. "What's the matter? Aren't ladies allowed in the saloon to conduct banking business?"
"Yes, ma'am," Mr. Baker continued to hesitate. "Hugh Morton, that's the owner of the Ajax, allows ladies inside the saloon."
"But…" Mary prompted.
"Ma'am," Mr. Baker said with a rush, "he don't allow no Indians or half-breeds."
Mary recoiled as if he had slapped her. Everyone in Utopia had been so kind. Most of the town had appeared at Ettinger House for breakfast, had sat down at the table and eaten with her, yet no one had even remarked on her heritage—or refused the meal she provided, although she was sure Louisa had enlightened the townspeople about their new benefactress's bloodlines. Besides, Mary sighed, there was no sense trying to hide her heritage. Anyone could see she carried Indian blood in her veins.
She had been sheltered by her family for so long and protected and accepted into Cheyenne society, because of her family's influence and wealth, that she had forgotten how prejudiced and narrow-minded some people could be. She had related the incident that had happened to her years before at school to Lee and told him she had never forgotten it. And Mary realized she hadn't forgotten the viciousness of her classmates, the attempted rape, or her unjust dismissal from school, but she had forgotten the reason for it. She had been accepted by her close-knit family and circle of friends for so many years that she had forgotten there were people who, unlike Lee, and Maddy, and Judah, refused to accept her as a human being with thoughts, feelings, needs, and desires just like their own.
"Ma'am," Carl Baker was saying, "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, but I thought you ought to know before you tried to go to the Ajax."
"Does he refuse admittance to all Indians and half-breeds or only poor ones?"
"He don't allow no Indians. Period. He lost a brother and his father in a massacre down in Texas before the war."
"I see." Mary turned to leave.
"Miz Kincaid, ma'am, we have cash on hand here at the Western Union office. We might be able to meet your needs."
Mary tried to smile. "Does Western Union provide banking services?"
"No, ma'am."
"I appreciate the offer, Mr. Baker, but I'm quite certain I'll need to open a bank account. I won't be able to conduct my business without access to my funds."
"What about your husband?" Carl asked. "Can't he open an account for you? He's not—" He broke off.
"No, he's Scots-Irish," Mary answered. "Or are Irish barred from the saloon as well?"
"No, ma'am. Some of the Ajax's best customers are Irish. Why don't you ask your husband to take care of your banking business for you?"
Mary gritted her teeth once again. She hadn't realized that the state of matrimony came with so many give-and-takes. She had given up her name and independent status when she married Lee, but she'd been given a certain amount of social freedom in return. She could, for instance, walk down the street without constant supervision or an escort with the knowledge that the wedding band on her finger protected her from some of the unwanted attention she had been subjected to as a single woman. She was also aware that Lee's name provided a certain amount of protection and status, but she hadn't known she would be considered by most men and some women to be lacking in intelligence and abilities, and required to ask permission of her husband or gain his approval simply because she was married. The Cherokee were a matriarchal society, and the men in the Jordan-Alexander family always treated the women with love, admiration, and respect. "My husband is away on business," Mary answered finally. "And I can't ask a stranger to open a bank account for me."
"You won't have to ask." The woman in the doorway stepped forward. "I apologize for eavesdropping, but I couldn't help but overhear part of your conversation. My name is Silver Delight. I have a business here in town and I would be pleased to go to the Ajax and open a bank account on your behalf."
Carl Baker moved to stand between Silver Delight and Mary. "Miss Delight, you ought not to approach a lady like Miz Kincaid in a public place. People might get the wrong idea about her."
Silver fixed Carl with an icy blue stare. "Some people already have the wrong idea about her," Silver replied. "Some people thinks she's a savage Indian, when anyone can see she's a lady."
"Of mixed blood," Carl said.
"But a lady nonetheless," Silver told him. "And I would be proud to help her out—or even loan her the money she needs myself."
"Thank you, Miss Delight." Mary walked around Mr.
Baker, stood before Silver Delight, and offered her hand. "I don't think a loan will be necessary, but I would greatly appreciate your help in opening a bank account."