“How may I help you, miss?” the skinny, elderly man asked her.
“I fell off the train,” she explained. “Where am I and can I get on the next train bound for New York?”
“You are on the east side of Virginia. The towns here are all small and isolated. There aren’t any towns nearby. You have to travel an hour by horse to get to any of them.”
“Why is there a train station here?”
He shrugged. “We occasionally get visitors or people leaving. The train stopped just now so the thieves could escape.”
“Isn’t anyone going after them?”
“I can’t leave the station, and the conductors tried to stop the men but they’re long gone. We’re just going to have to keep an eye out for any newcomers around here.”
She didn’t like the sound of that.
Trevor lumbered over to them. He looked miserable. “When is the next train for New York City going to get here?”
“It will stop by tomorrow at the same time. Do you two have your tickets?” the man asked.
She gasped as she realized she left the train ticket on the train.
“No,” Trevor bitterly answered. “It was in my folder, and everything that was in my folder was demolished when I fell out of the train.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t put you back on without a ticket. Do you have any money?”
“The robbers took all we had.”
The man rubbed his stubbly jaw. “You are in a tight place alright. I don’t know what to tell you. I can’t just hand you a ticket. You have to purchase a new one.”
“How are we supposed to afford one?”
“I can probably hook you up with a temporary job in the town. At least it will give you enough money for another train ticket.”
“Well, considering the fact that there isn’t any other choice, I’ll take it.”
The man nodded. “I was ready to head back home. I can take you two there. I can hook you up with lodging until you get a job.”
She sighed. “But I need to get to New York. My aunt is expecting me.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. There’s nothing I can do for you. My hands are tied by rules and regulations. You need a ticket to get on the train.”
“How long do you think it will take to earn enough money to buy a ticket?”
“That all depends on how good you are at saving money. You’ll be paying for food and lodging while you’re in town.”
She hadn’t ever considered the cost of living before so this news dismayed her. “How much will all of that be?”
“We can discuss prices later. Right now you two need to get some rest. If you don’t mind me saying ma’am, you look like you’re ready to drop from exhaustion.”
“It has been a tiring few days.”
“Where are you traveling from?”
“San Francisco.”
“That’s certainly a long way. You definitely need to rest. Come along. I have an old buggy in the back. I usually ride my horse but with you two here, I’ll hook up the buggy. We can talk more in the morning. My name is Jeffrey Gallows. I own the inn in town. My wife runs it while I’m here. We’ll get things arranged for you two.”
She nodded and followed Mr. Gallows and Trevor to the buggy that had seen better days. She tried not to feel sorry for herself as she sat across from Trevor, but it was hard to be positive when things looked incredibly bleak. What was her aunt going to do when she didn’t make it to the train station in New York? Would Mrs. Rochester find another nanny? What was her future going to be like now? She couldn’t imagine returning home. As much as she missed California, she couldn’t go back to Mr. Parker.
The man hopped on the seat outside the buggy and urged his horse forward. Despite the evening sky and many trees, the horse followed the well worn but overgrown path that would take them to the town where he lived.
Trevor glared at her. “This is all your fault.”
She blinked, shocked by his tone of voice. “My fault?”
“You dragged me out of the train against my will.”
“I tripped. I didn’t mean to take you out with me,” she snapped. She folded her arms across her chest and looked out the window though she knew she wouldn’t see anything but dark trees.
“Then you insulted my life’s work.”
“You’re sore about that?”
“My writing is my life.”
“Write another story.” She couldn’t believe he was making such a huge deal out of it.
“Write another story,” he sarcastically replied. “It’s not that easy.”
“Well, excuse me for trying to get away from a miserable situation back home. I was about to be forced into a marriage with a disgusting forty-eight year old who wanted to use me to give him babies. I was getting off the train so I could evade my father who was ready to haul me back home. So you can see that my problem is a lot worse than you losing your stupid story.”
He looked as if he had just been slapped in the face. “Stupid story?”
She rolled her eyes. “A loveless marriage is more of a catastrophe than losing some papers.”
“I think you’re exaggerating.”
“I am not! That man was gross.”
He obviously didn’t believe her.
She decided not to say anything else. What was the point? He had a warped view of what was important. Her eyelids grew heavy after sitting in silence for a few minutes. She drifted off to sleep for the remainder of the ride.
By the time the buggy stopped, she woke up and realized that Trevor had drifted off to sleep as well. Mr. Gallows opened the buggy door and helped her out. Trevor woke up and followed her out of the buggy. Since it was night, she had to rely on the flickering candlelight from the lamp posts to show her the one street town. A small grocery store, an inn, a restaurant, a bank, and several other small businesses lined both sides of the street. It was nothing like San Francisco. Everything spoke of poverty in this sorry place. She didn’t want to be there.
She slowly followed Mr. Gallows into the inn which was small but comfortable and clean. He motioned for her and Trevor to sit on the small couch in the parlor by the front door. Too tired to argue, she sat on the couch.
Trevor groaned but sat next to her, trying to keep as much distance from her as possible, though it wasn’t possible to avoid touching altogether.
Her eyelids were still heavy and she almost dozed off by the time Mr. Gallows and his wife came over to them.
“We got a room set up for you both,” Mrs. Gallows, a pudgy old woman with a kind face and warm smile, told them as soon as she walked into the room.
Adrienne sat straight up, accidentally bumping shoulders with Trevor who immediately recoiled from her. She was too tired to care that he was repulsed by her.
“My poor dear, you are ready to drop,” Mrs. Gallows softly noted. She helped Adrienne stand up. “Come with me.”
She nodded and followed the woman to a small room with two beds.
“Oh no,” Trevor immediately protested. “I’m not sharing a room with her.”
She was too worn out to do the arguing so she let him do it for her.
“Are you and your wife having problems?” Mr. Gallows wondered.
“She’s not my wife. That’s why I’m not sharing a room with her.”
“Oh. Well, that is certainly a good reason. We’ll send you to another room then.”
She breathed a sigh of relief and fell on the bed.
The old woman put a blanket over her. “I’ll bring you some clean clothes to wear tomorrow. Mrs. Peters’ youngest girl is too tall for her clothes, so she gave them to me and they look like they could be your size.”
Adrienne fell asleep so she didn’t hear anything else the woman said.
Chapter Three
Trevor woke up the next morning in his small room, aware of the sunlight hitting his eyes. He squinted as he rolled over in the small but comfortable bed and faced the wall. Sighing in despair, he recalled his play
that he had worked on night and day for the past month. He was almost finished with it when that crazy young woman dragged him off the train. His hard work was destroyed. Now he had nothing to show Mr. Adams when he got to New York. He groaned as he rolled onto his back. The sunlight hit his eyes again. He reluctantly got up and did his best to make himself look presentable before he left his room.
He walked down the unfamiliar light blue corridor until he reached the front desk. Mr. Gallows stood behind it, looking just as happy as he was the night before. Trevor was usually a happy person too, but with his irreplaceable work destroyed, he didn’t feel like smiling.
“Good morning, son,” the man greeted. “Did you sleep well?”
“I slept pretty well,” he admitted. “How am I supposed to find work in this town so I can afford a ticket to New York?”
“Oh well, we can always use some help in this town. We have lots of odd jobs available.”
“What is this town called?”
“Farwell. It’s named after the mayor. He founded this place thirty years ago. He’s almost eighty. I suppose his son will be mayor once he dies.”
Trevor nodded. “So what type of work do you need around here?”
“Well, we could use a cook, a farmhand, and a cleaner.”
“I was born and raised on a farm. I’ll take the farm work.”
“I’ll notify Mr. Howard that he can have a farmhand then.”
“How long do you think it will take to pay for my lodging, food and ticket?”
“It depends on how good you are about saving your money and how hard you’re willing to work. By the way you’re talking, I’m guessing you have plenty of motivation to get out of here. You’ll probably be ready to head out in a little under a month.”
That long? Trevor hid his disappointment.
“You must be hungry. Mrs. Gallows has made a fine stack of pancakes, bacon, and biscuits. That meal will be free, as will last night’s lodging. We don’t want to make more of a burden on you than you already have to bear, considering the robbery and all.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll show you the way to the dining room.”
Trevor simply nodded and followed the man to the dining room where Mrs. Gallows was setting the utensils and plates. “Do you need any help, ma’am?”
She looked pleased by his offer. “No thank you. I can handle it myself. Have yourself a seat and rest for a bit.”
He sat down at the place she motioned to him before she went to the kitchen.
Mr. Gallows sat beside him at the small square table. “We bring out more tables when we have a party.”
Trevor looked around the large room with its red carpet and red drapes and white walls. “I see you like the color red.”
“Yes. Mrs. Gallows loves that particular color. She says it encourages people to talk more. Apparently, there’s something in red that makes people more alert, and when they’re alert, they’re more social.”
“So the reason my room is blue is to foster relaxation and sleep?”
“Correct. It’s nice to see you understand that.”
“Well, when I do my writing, I try to pay attention to subtle cues. Sometimes a certain color or object in the story has a deeper meaning that demonstrates something the characters need or already possess. I’m not sure how many people get those subtleties.”
“You’re a writer?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What do you write?”
“I mostly write plays. That’s why I’m on my way to New York. I got a job as a playwright for Adams New York Theater.”
“I’m guessing all those papers on the train tracks was your work, then?”
Trevor frowned at the memory. “Yes, sir. It was a play I had written to show Mr. Adams.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
After that woman’s ridicule of his work, he was glad someone felt some sympathy for him.
“Did you carry any other pieces of your work in your suitcase?”
“I had a couple of ideas in it.”
“I’d be interested in hearing them. It’s not often we get anyone with creative ability through here. Most of our time is spent doing the necessities, though we do our best to entertain. We have some people who play instruments in their spare time, but it would be nice to read a good story.”
Trevor’s ears perked up. “I have a book out. It’s called The Path to Christmas and Other Short Plays. Do you have a bookstore here?”
“Sadly, we do not. What’s your name, son?”
“Trevor Lewis.”
“Well Trevor, I’ll make it a point to stop by the next town when I go to the train station this afternoon. That place has a bookstore, and I’ll look for your book there.”
Mrs. Gallows walked into the dining room with the young woman. Instead of her fancy dress, she was wearing a faded light blue dress with faded pink flowers on it. Her long, wavy dark brown hair was pulled back with a headband. Though she was beautiful, she still looked tired and sad. She sat down and said hello to everyone.
Trevor didn’t feel like greeting her but did to be polite.
Mr. Gallows turned his attention to his wife. “Trevor here has a book out. I’m going to pick it up from the next town over. He has some plays in it. I thought it would be nice to introduce the people in this town to one of his plays.”
Mrs. Gallows’ face lit up. “What a lovely idea! It is wonderful to have an author among us.”
Trevor was pleased by their enthusiasm.
“You’ll have to tell us all about those stories while we eat,” she said with an interest that made him feel better about the previous night’s events.
The woman across the table from him rolled her eyes.
He ignored her.
Mrs. Gallows went back to the kitchen.
He turned to the old man. “Can I contact my family and Mr. Adams to let them know where I am?”
“We have a post office here but we only send out and receive mail once a week. We won’t be due for another postal run to the next town for another five days. Today is Thursday so that makes Tuesday for when the post office is open again. For the time being, you’ll have to wait.”
He sighed. “Alright.”
“I could stop by and send out a telegram for you when I’m in the next town if you would like.”
“No, that’s alright. I can wait five days.”
The man turned to the young woman. “May I send a telegram on your behalf, Miss...?”
“My name is Adrienne Dayton. No, I don’t want you to send a telegram. But I do need a job to make money.”
“We have an opening for a cleaner and a cook. One of the two women who cooks at the restaurant just had a baby and the other woman needs help right away. As for the cleaning position, we need someone to clean this inn. Mrs. Gallows is getting too old to handle it all by herself.”
Adrienne shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I don’t have experience with either of those things.”
Trevor shook his head. She’s a spoiled rich girl alright. It’s amazing she could find her way onto the train without any help.
“Are you willing to learn?” Mr. Gallows asked.
She nodded.
“Which would you rather learn?”
“The cooking I suppose.”
“Fine. Then Mrs. Gallows will take you over to the restaurant after breakfast and get you started there.”
He had to hand it to Mr. Gallows who was respectful of all persons, no matter how annoying or spoiled they were. Most likely, Adrienne didn’t want to clean because then she would get dirty.
Mrs. Gallows returned with the food. “Eat up. You’ll need your energy.”
“I can’t wait to try it,” he said. He hadn’t realized he was hungry until he smelled the delicious aroma from the bacon.
“You’ll be having lunch on the Howard farm. Adrienne, you’ll have lunch at the restaurant. Then you’ll both have dinner here around six,” Mr. Gallows sai
d.
Trevor took a bite of bacon. “If dinner’s going to be as good as breakfast, I can’t wait. This stuff is really good, ma’am.”
Mrs. Gallows beamed from the compliment before she drank some orange juice.
He ignored Adrienne who rolled her eyes again. That’s the thanks I get for trying to be nice to her on the train. Well, I won’t be doing anything else for her.
“Now, we’d love to hear about your plays,” Mrs. Gallows stated.
He spent the breakfast explaining the plots and themes to his work as they ate their meals. He saw that Adrienne purposely stuck to herself as she concentrated on her own meal. He pushed aside his irritation and hurt by her obvious rejection of his work. Not everyone is going to like my material. I better get used to criticism since critics will be hard on me in New York. Still, it was much nicer to talk to the Gallows who seemed excited about his book.
After the meal was done, Mr. Gallows looked between him and Adrienne. “So, when is the wedding?”
“Excuse me?” Trevor asked.
Adrienne cringed.
“You two were on the train together going to New York. Obviously, you are planning to get married. You aren’t related to each other since you have different last names.”
“Oh no, sir.” Trevor was going to put a stop to all of this right away. He would never marry someone as uptight, stuck-up and rude as Adrienne. “I don’t even know-”
A man walked into the room. “Hi there, Pa and Ma. I got the buggy’s wheel tightened.”
Mr. Gallows stood up. “This is our son, Bronson. He’s a repairman. It’s handy to have him around.”
Bronson looked to be around twenty-two. He had red hair and freckles and the same pudgy frame that his mother had.
“Good morning,” Bronson greeted the two newcomers.
“This is Adrienne Dayton and Trevor Lewis. They were two of the train passengers who got robbed before they accidentally fell off the train,” his father explained.
“The cops haven’t found the robbers yet but they got to be around somewhere.” Bronson turned to Adrienne in interest. “So, where did you come from?”
Romancing Adrienne Page 2
