96
Sacramento, California, 1869
Senator McCabe arrived at the Leland Stanford Mansion promptly at nine o’clock. Melissa Mills, his companion for the past year, elegantly graced his arm. The evening fundraiser for the Republican Party had been on his calendar for several weeks. Leland Stanford, along with his partners in the Central Pacific Railroad, Charles Crocker, Mark Hopkins and Collis Huntington, were hinting at the possibility of backing Braham as the next gubernatorial candidate. If he decided to run, he would need not only their financial support, but their influence.
“Good evening, Senator.” Stanford shook hands with Braham and kissed Melissa on the cheek. “My dear Melissa, I’m sorry to hear your father is indisposed this evening.”
“It’s Papa’s gout. He’ll be fine in a few days.”
“I’m pleased to hear it. I believe your godmother has visitors from New York she’d like you to meet. Ah, here’s Jane now.” Stanford kissed his wife. “If you ladies will excuse us, I have business to discuss with the senator.”
Glancing at Braham, Melissa batted her eyelashes flirtatiously over the ivory lacework of her fan. “Don’t be long, darling.” She then linked her arm with her godmother’s and the two women sauntered away with their heads together, chatting in soft undertones.
Braham cocked his head, watching the lithe, coquettish brunette glide across the room. He had yet to bed her, preferring the company of his mistress, and often wondered if Melissa would even enjoy the marriage bed, or tolerate it only to produce an heir. Regardless, he would likely marry her within the next year.
“Come to the library, Abraham. I have a new bottle of blended Scottish whisky you’ll enjoy.”
Braham followed the railroad tycoon, dismissing thoughts of the woman he regularly bedded and the woman he wasn’t inclined to bed at all.
After pouring two glasses, Stanford handed one to Braham. “Have a seat, Senator. Cigars are on the table.”
Braham extracted a cigar from the humidor, lit it, and relaxed in one of the two leather wing chairs in front of a roaring fire, crossing one leg over the other.
Stanford remained standing in front of the fireplace with one arm resting on the mantel, cigar propped between his fingers. “Your term as senator is up next year, and the party wants you as our candidate for governor. Within six years, with Melissa at your side, you’ll reside in the White House. California needs you there, Abraham.”
Braham pulled a short draw, then removed the cigar from his mouth and studied it, blowing out puffs of smoke. “This is somewhat of a surprise, although ye have hinted at it.”
“Come now, Senator. Don’t be coy. You’ve been on the path to the governor’s office since you stepped onto the floor of the Senate. The White House is the obvious next step. My partners and I can make it happen.”
What Leland was offering was not only financial support and influence, but also a promise of victory. Braham puffed again, and the smoke wreathed up around his head. “I’m flattered. However, I couldn’t possibly give ye an answer without discussing the ramifications with my law partner. Being governor would preclude my practicing law. I’d hope my clients would stay with the firm, but clients are fickle when it comes to lawyers.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery are on this evening’s guest list. Dinner will provide the perfect opportunity to bring him around to our point of view. He’ll quickly see the benefits for all Californians to have one of our own in the White House. Of course, my business associates require legal representation on a variety of matters. I’m sure Mr. Montgomery could handle a multitude of issues brilliantly.”
A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. With an edge of impatience, Stanford called out, “Come in.”
The butler stepped into the room. “Sir, the governor’s carriage arrived. Mrs. Stanford asked that you join her at the door.”
Stanford waved away the servant. “Yes, yes. Tell her I’ll be along.” He puffed on his cigar. “As soon as I have your answer, you’ll be free to call on Melissa’s father. He should be recovered from his gout attack and will be pleased to entertain your offer for his daughter’s hand.”
Braham cleared his throat discreetly.
“Timing is everything, Senator. Announcing your upcoming nuptials and your bid for governor at the same press conference will guarantee the announcement appears simultaneously on the front page of every newspaper in California and in the society columns. Now, we don’t want to keep the ladies waiting. Shall we go?”
Braham stubbed out his cigar and emptied his whisky glass. His plan was falling into place like expertly arranged dominoes.
Thirty minutes later, Cullen and Kit arrived. After kissing his cousin, and remarking on how beautiful she looked in a green silk gown matching her eyes, he and Cullen went out onto the balcony for a private conversation. Kit and Melissa remained inside, chatting amiably.
“What are ye going to tell him?” Cullen asked.
Braham leaned against the railing, folding his arms. “I don’t want to live in Washington ever again.”
“It’s not the same city ye left four years ago, and ye still own two houses there.”
Braham steeled himself against the riptide of memory. “I need to sell them.”
A silence followed. Cullen fixed him with a frown. “Charlotte is not coming back. Sell the properties.”
“But—”
Cullen gave him a friendly slap between the shoulder blades. “It’s time ye proposed to Melissa and started a family. Ye’re forty-six years old. Run for governor. After two years, if ye still don’t want to run for president, tell the party ye want another term as governor.”
Braham took a long, silent breath and opened his hand, revealing a sapphire ring.
Cullen eyes held a glint matching his half smile. “Ye’ve got the ring. Ye’ve got the girl. Propose this evening. What in God’s name is holding ye back?”
Braham felt an uneasy rumble in his stomach and put the ring away. “Do ye think Charlotte married David? He was in love with her.”
Cullen pointed
