Free Always and Forever by Beverly Jenkins Page A

soft-spoken response made him believe there was more to her answer, but he didn’t press. By the time the wagon train reached its destination he’d know all he needed to know about the beautifully endowed Grace Atwood. “What made you want to go into banking?”
    Glad that he’d changed the subject, Grace replied, “My father founded the bank. Succeeding him was a natural event.”
    “Maybe, if you’d been a son. Daughters are supposed to marry and give their fathers grandchildren.”
    “Says who?” Grace asked, her eyebrow arched. “Thisis the nineteenth century, Mr. Blake. Women have choices these days, and I chose banking.”
    “Do men give you a hard time?”
    “Is the world round?”
    He grinned. “That bad?”
    “Many refuse to believe I’m qualified. This afternoon, in fact, a customer threatened to take his money elsewhere because I wouldn’t be bullied into lowering the note on his loan.”
    Because so many men had been killed during the war, women all over the nation were taking on responsibilities and occupations once considered men’s work, work like doctoring, teaching—and yes, banking. Grace was certain the country would be better off due to the ideas and diligence brought to the workplace by the female population, but there were many men and women who did not share her view. “Do you think a woman should be able to do whatever her intellect calls her to?” she asked him then.
    He shrugged. “I try and stay away from debates like that, Miss Atwood. Most of the women I know are happy just being old-fashioned women.”
    “And that means what?”
    Jackson felt as if he’d just stepped into a bear trap and he didn’t know whether to go forward or backward. “Well, you know—serving their men, having babies, that kind of thing.”
    “And you say these women are happy?”
    “Sure.”
    Her next question was asked softly. “Have you ever asked them?”
    The look in her eyes dared him to be truthful. “No,” he had to admit, while wondering how much tighter the bear trap would get before she’d let him escape. Hemade a mental note never to get suckered into a conversation like this again, not with her.
    “You might be surprised by their answer, Mr. Blake,” she replied, as she sipped at her coffee with a small smile of satisfaction on her lips.
    “Why no beaus?” he asked, wanting to bring her down a peg or two.
    Grace thought he’d given her a low blow, but she raised her chin and replied, “Because I have opinions and the education to back them up. Men seem to find the combination unsettling.”
    “At least you’re truthful.”
    “I am that,” she agreed, “but men don’t care for that trait, either.”
    He chuckled. She was a handful. It would take a very special man to appreciate all she had to offer.
    They spent the rest of the evening going over some of the forms filled out by the candidates and managed to do it without arguing. When the clock in the hall struck nine, Grace thought it best to bring the evening to a close due to the lateness of the hour, and he agreed.
    She walked him to the front door and waited while he donned his coat.
    As he took his hat down from one of the pegs, he asked, “What time are you going to see about the animals in the morning?”
    “Early.”
    “How early is early?”
    “I hope to be leaving here around seven.”
    “I’ll be here at six-thirty.”
    Grace cocked her head. “I don’t remember asking you along.”
    “Are you the one who just admitted not knowing as much about horseflesh as you should?”

    Unhappy about being tripped up by her own words, she replied coolly, “Yes.”
    “Well, the last thing we need are a bunch of broken down nags that can’t even get us out of Illinois.”
    “Mr. Blake—”
    “Six-thirty, Miss Atwood, and be ready, please. I don’t want to spend an hour waiting for you to decide what hat to wear.”
    Grace’s eyes widened.
    “See you in the morning.” And he was gone.
    Snarling, Grace