"What do you know about what I want?" Her eyes narrowed in anger.
"You don't want to go back to your brothers?" Mathew asked in surprise, and hope bloomed once again.
She frowned. "I will not be told what to do or where to do it. I've crossed cities by myself with nothing but the clothes on my back. Don't you dare think you can tell me what I can and can't do."
"I never said that. I only want to help you. I thought the chance to see New York City would be exciting for you."
She turned her head away. "Let me go."
"Please stay with me," he begged. Pride be dammed, he begged. "I need to make a purchase, and then I'll take you wherever you want whenever you want. I promise." He released her wrist and silently pleaded for her to stay. He didn't care if he sounded like a fool, he wouldn't let her wander New York City alone with no money.
She crossed her arms and sat down next to him with her knees angled away. She was pissed, that was obvious, but Mathew wasn't sure why. They would hash it out when they got out of Queens.
"Continue, please," Mathew told the driver.
They arrived shortly thereafter, and Mathew exited, offering Verity a hand, but she climbed down alone. He stepped inside and kept glancing over his shoulder to be sure she was following. At the counter, he asked, "Where can I buy stock certificates?"
"Right here," a short, balding man said. "What stock do you want?"
"New York Gas Light." According to his research, they would change their name to Consolidated Edison in just under a hundred years, but the certificate would retain its value.
"Good choice, young man. What is your payment method?"
Mathew slung the black bag onto the counter. "Silver bars."
The old man whistled. "How many bars you got there?"
Mathew's cheeks heated. He knew the dollar value in his time but never counted the bars. "I'm not sure, but I'd like to keep a few these for another purpose."
The balding man's brows popped and then he shrugged. Money's money. Thankfully, the balding man didn't question where Mathew got them from, because he didn't have answers. Mathew retained a sufficient number and returned them to the black bag, since he was a believer in not putting all one's eggs in one basket. They counted and stacked the rest in neat columns. The short man completed the transaction, filling out a paper stock certificate. With the most valuable sheet of paper in hand, Mathew tucked it into the bag, thankful for losing most of the weight. He turned around to leave and Verity was gone.
"Verity!" he called, running out of the building.
***
VERITY DASHED OFF down a cobblestone road. She expected the trip to be a fun adventure for them both, but insult cut her like a dagger knowing Mathew brought her as simply a tag-along. He used her. As if that wasn't enough, in the heat of her anger, he said he'd bring her back to her prison on the farm when he was done with her. Then Mathew had dumped a load of silver bars onto the counter. A shifty little man's eyes perked up in excitement. She wasn't incompetent. Verity didn't know what the New York Stock Exchange was, but something nefarious was happening, and she wanted nothing to do with it. With fiery anger burning from Mathew's insult and illegal activities, she couldn't stay by his side.
Since Verity was on the eastern seaboard, her travels to California would only take longer. But she wouldn't swallow her pride and allow Mathew to bring her to the farm, making her journey shorter. Her independence was worth more than a few weeks' travel. Here in New York City, Queens to be exact, there was bound to be an opportunity somewhere for her to earn some coin.
The dirt roads snaked through tall buildings for miles in each direction. Carriages trotted along. People marched and zigzagged all over. She needed to find a place to dance. Verity could earn enough cash in one evening to find a place to sleep. Another couple more nights and she'd have enough to set off toward California for the gold rush and seek her fortune the honest way.
As she walked north, soon carriages swallowed her out of sight. She read building names, ducked under chutes pouring raw materials, stepped around stacks of logs, and avoided smacking into other pedestrians. A stumbling, laughing drunk flopped out onto the street at Verity's feet. "Howdy, miss. Care for a pint?" He hiccupped.
Verity sneered. "Yes, good sir, I would."
An obnoxious noise resembling an ass came from his throat while she helped him stand. Inside reeked of booze, coppery blood, and urine. Smoke haze filled the space, and upbeat tunes came from a beat-up old piano in the corner. She walked straight toward the bartender to ask for an available dance stage when her hand was yanked from behind her, sending her twirling into the drunken mule's chest.
"Why's a pretty lady like you in this place?" His meaty finger slid down the fabric of her shirt. The shirt Mathew bought her. She didn't want to think about him now.
"Looking to dance," she said. "You?"
A big goofy grin crossed his face. "How much for a private session?"
Verity smirked. She'd give him a private dance and then get out. That was tame for her, anyway. "Two bucks for ten minutes."
"Two bucks is a lot of booze." He laughed, and it grated her ears. "But I bet you're worth it with clothes like them. Done!"
Verity didn't want to take him anywhere secluded, just in case, but she didn't want to be watched for free either. While she contemplated, her wrist was painfully wrenched.
"Get moving, I ain't paying for nothing." The pungent barrel-chested man dropped sloppily on a stool, but she wasn't deterred by the fool's threats.
"Let go or you'll be disappointed."
He snarled and dropped her wrist. She positioned herself over his lap and began swaying independent of the piano music across the room. If he was already this demanding, a few Peeping Toms were significantly less risky than taking him somewhere private. Maybe others would pay next for extra attention.
"Ah, that's more like it." A wide grin split his face. Spittle oozed from the corner of his mouth. Verity turned her face with repulsion.
She wriggled her bottom and arched her back over his lap. With a crane of her neck, she angled her mouth to his hairy ear and blew softly. Verity feigned a moan. An erection poked her bottom, and Verity's face pinched with disgust. Luckily, he couldn't see it. A meaty hand jutted out from behind her and twisted her breast. Verity cried out. That was her breaking point, and she tried to run away, but his other arm grasped around her waist. "Keep wiggling or I'll take you somewhere else."
No one stopped his invasive hand. A few customers that noticed, turned the other way when Verity made eye contact. The rest were too drunk to care or too afraid to interrupt. His hands snaked into the band of her jeans and her sensual movements became jerky.
"That's right, keep going. Oh, yeah. One more minute and I'm going to show you what real fucking is like."
"Let me go," Verity demanded. "You've had your ten minutes now pay up and let me go."
"Oh, I don't think so. I can see all your curves. I know what you are. Now keep moving or I'll make you move."
"Stop!" she yelled and tried to twist herself away. It was no use. His drunken grip was like a vice.