Indiana Goes West (Mail Order Brides of Pioneer Town, Book 1) Read Free Page A

the bank
before going in. She looked up at the building, which practically
took up the whole corner. It was a grand building, almost
intimidatingly so. It had four floors, although the first floor was
the only one the public was permitted to enter. Indiana was no
stranger to money. All that was going to change now that her father
had died. Indiana had grown up around wealth, living in such a
large house, with servants to attend to her every need. She was
used to large, extravagant buildings like the Wells Fargo Nevada
National Bank. However, now she was forced to think about money for
the first time in her life.
    Indiana stood outside the doors still, and
turned in a slow circle. In this section of San Francisco, it was
uncommon to see someone of the lower classes, and everyone she saw
passing, whether they were walking, or riding in a car or carriage,
was dressed nicely. The women wore their large skirts, the men,
their tall hats. Most of the men walking carried walking sticks,
all polished nicely. One man walked by with a gray mustache and a
brand new top hat, his hand wrapped around the knob of his walking
stick. Indiana noted that the knob was a rather impressive looking
jewel of some sort. Once, Indiana would have thought nothing of it.
Now, it made her stomach turn slightly.
    She gripped the envelope her mother had given
her tightly in her hand and turned once more, back toward the bank.
She steeled herself, and stepped inside, the doorman bowing low as
he pulled the heavy door outward and open for her.
    “Ma’am,” he said. Indiana nodded her head,
and slipped past him without a word. The man looked to be in his
forties, and had rounded rosy cheeks. He stood and opened the door
for people who had more money than him all day, and Indiana
couldn’t understand why he did it. She had been thinking about the
servants she had grown up around as well lately, most of them
dismissed by her mother, who for the first time in her life was
feeling the need to pinch her purse tightly.
    There had been a butler, cooks, and maids,
and men who kept the grounds cut and cleaned. They were people who
served others, and Indiana did not think she would ever be able to
do that. Yet she did acknowledge that almost any job she could
think of served others in a way. A butcher cut meat for his
customers, and a banker moved money for his. But to pull open doors
for people perfectly capable of doing so themselves, to clean the
dishes of people who could do so just as well, was nevertheless now
a strange concept to her. She thought of Misty, her friend first,
and her maid second. Misty was a part of the family. In fact, Misty
had been the only maid retained by her mother, who had been
unwilling to send the girl away.
    Inside, the bank was just as impressive as it
was from the street. Indiana stood in the lobby, a massive thing
with stuffed chairs and couches, and tables made from rich and
stained mahogany wood. There were small offices here for some of
the more important bankers, hemmed in from the lobby by glass and
wood, their owners’ names stenciled impressively on the doors in
thick gold lettering.
    At the back of the lobby was the counter. It
had six windows which bankers stood behind, and conversed with
their customers. A line had formed back there, as the morning was
one of the busiest times for the bank. Each window was open, and
the bankers were courteous but fast, clearly eager to get through
the morning rush.
    Luckily, Indiana did not need to wait in
line, as she needed to speak with Wyatt Greenfield, who had been
Indiana’s family’s banker for as long as she could remember,
despite the fact he was not much older than she.
    As Indiana moved to his office near the front
door, she saw that his door was closed. A quick glance through the
window revealed that he was at his desk, speaking with a man. She
would have to wait, after all.
    Indiana chose a padded leather chair nearby.
She sat, crossing her legs demurely and tapping the