A Joyful Noise (Kansas Crossroads Book 14)

by Amelia C. Adams

  The train whistle blew just then, pulling her out of that lovely moment and dumping her back into reality like a bar of soap in the washtub. “I need to go. I’m so sorry.” She came to her feet, and he stood as well.

  “Perhaps we could talk again later?”

  “Maybe. Probably. I’ll need to see.” She headed back through the trees, feeling guilty for leaving the rest of the laundry to the other girls even though Giselle had encouraged it.

  She felt a slight touch on her arm and turned. Mr. Larsen had kept pace with her, even though she thought she was moving quickly. “I hate leaving things up to chance,” he said. “Instead of waiting to see, why don’t we make a definite date of it? What time do you finish up?”

  “We’re generally done around eight,” she replied.

  “Will you go for a walk with me at nine? Does that give you time to rest up after your day?”

  Propriety demanded that she say no, or at the very least, that she insist on a chaperone. At that moment, though, with his warm brown eyes gazing at her and the sun shining through the tree leaves and lighting on his dark hair, she didn’t feel very proper at all. “I’d like that,” she said, deciding to take the chance. After all, it was 1876—hardly the Dark Ages.

  “Excellent. I’ll meet you in the hotel lobby, if that suits you.”

  “It does. Thank you.”

  Georgia turned and walked away again, and this time, he let her go. She placed a hand at the base of her throat as she walked, wondering if the pounding of her heart was visible. He would be leaving as soon as he’d solved his case—she was sure of that. It was ridiculous to suppose that this little acquaintance could become something more. Nonetheless, it was a nice thought.

  ***

  Nora looked up from chopping vegetables at the table. “I caught a glimpse of him through the window. He’s rather nice-looking.”

  “He is, isn’t he?” Georgia didn’t bother to deny it as she grabbed a fresh apron and tied it around her waist. No sense in trying to hide her feelings—she’d always been terrible at it.

  Carrie grabbed a new apron as well. “I think it’s about time someone started paying you some attention, Georgia. You’re one of the prettiest girls I know, but you’re so quiet.”

  Georgia smiled, her lips still pressed together. The new girls thought she was just shy, but that’s the price she had to pay if she wanted to keep her secret. Then again, was it worse for them to think she was shy or for them to know she didn’t hear well? The choices seemed equally as uncomfortable, and maybe she needed to rethink things.

  There wasn’t time just then, though—the train had arrived, and she had waitressing to do. She moved out into the lobby to greet their new guests, then began taking orders and delivering plates as quickly as she could. She refilled cups, helped people find seats, and cleaned up a broken bowl, all the while trying to keep her mind off Mr. Larsen. Despite her efforts, she was afraid it was all a lie—her mind was very much on him, whether or not it should be.

  When the meal service came to an end, she gathered up the dirty tablecloths and put them in the laundry basket, then reset the room. One more train for the day and then she would go out walking with Mr. Larsen. She would keep herself occupied in the meantime by making up the rooms that had just been vacated—there was nothing like changing sheets to keep one grounded.

  She gathered up the new linens she’d need and climbed the stairs, deciding to start with room two. She had just pulled back the quilt when Nora stumbled in, a hand on her abdomen and her face white.

  “Nora? Here, sit down.” Georgia guided her over to a chair. “Are you all right?”

  “Just . . . just a sudden pain,” Nora replied. “I was bringing some new writing paper up for the desk in room three and I must have taken the stairs too quickly.”

  Georgia shook her head. “You remember what Dr. Wayment said—you have to take it easy. That’s for yourself and the baby both.”

  “I know, but I didn’t think I was doing too much.”

  “Well, I think your body’s telling you otherwise. You sit there and keep me company while I make up this bed.”

  “I won’t argue.”

  Georgia stripped the old linens and replaced them with new, making the bed neat and fresh. Then she moved around the room, dusting and tidying, then ending by opening the curtains and letting in some light.

  “How are you feeling now? Can you manage going down the stairs?”

  “I think I can,” Nora said, slowly lifting herself to her feet. “If not, I could always sit on the bannister and slide.”

  Georgia laughed. “I’d be interested to see you try. Come on, then—let’s see how you do.”

  They stepped into the hallway, Nora being very careful not to go too fast, and Georgia following right behind. They hadn’t taken more than two steps when Nora held up her hand. “Wait. What’s that sound?”

  “I don’t hear anything,” Georgia replied truthfully.

  Nora cocked her head to one side. “I think . . . I think someone’s snoring.” She giggled, then clapped a hand over her mouth until she was better under control. “It’s coming from room four. Isn’t that where your gentleman friend is staying?”

  “Yes, I think it is.” For the first time in a long while, Georgia found herself wishing she could hear—she wanted to know what his snore sounded like for herself. Was it a loud, growling sound, or more like a whiffle? Of course it wasn’t important, but she was terribly curious. She hadn’t pegged Mr. Larsen as a snorer, but then again, she hardly knew him well enough to imagine him as anything.

  “He must be exhausted, sleeping so deeply in the middle of the day. I shouldn’t be laughing at him, but really, it’s so funny. He sounds like a mewing kitten with a cold, don’t you think?”

  Georgia smiled. Bless Nora for telling her exactly what she wanted to know without even realizing Georgia was curious. “That’s a good description. Now, let’s get you back downstairs and your feet up. Or should we take you upstairs instead? Do you think you should lie down?”

  Nora shook her head. “I’m positive I’m all right. Let’s go downstairs. I’ll chop more vegetables or find another way to make myself useful, and if I need to lie down, I promise I will. Now that I know the pastor and his wife are taking in this baby, I’m all the more eager to keep her safe—she’ll bring them so much joy.”

  “She? Are you sure it’s a girl?”

  Nora smiled. “I know it sounds crazy, but when I think of this child, she’s always a girl. I’ve tried to imagine a little boy and I just can’t do it—it seems wrong somehow.”

  “Then she must be a girl,” Georgia replied with a smile. “Let’s get you—and her—settled in, all right?”

  “All right.”

  They made it back down into the kitchen without incident, and after hearing what was going on, Giselle asked Nora to repair the hem on a tablecloth, which she could easily do with her feet propped up. Sarah and Ruth had just pulled new bread from the oven, and the whole room smelled like heaven.

  “I can’t think of anything in the world better than this,” Carrie said, pausing her ironing to take a deep whiff. “Fresh bread makes my mouth water every time I smell it.”

  “My aunt used to make the best bread, but my mother never learned the knack,” Emma commented. Georgia was surprised to hear her offer something about her background—she’d said very little about her home and family since she’d arrived the week before.

  “Did your aunt teach you?” she asked, curious to see if Emma would keep talking.

  “No. She was too busy.” Emma turned and grabbed some plates from the shelf, setting them on the serving counter. She said nothing else, and Georgia had to wonder at that. Seemed she wasn’t the only quiet waitress on staff these days.

  When the clock’s hands finally moved to eight and all the work was done, Georgia pulled off her apron, relieved to see the last customer and the last dirty dish for the night. She climbed the two flights of stairs to th
e attic room she shared with the other waitresses and changed into a lightweight peach dress, so different from the dark tones they wore to serve, and tucked back a few loose strands of hair. Then she sat down to wait, wishing she had something a little better to do than stare at her hands.

  “You look utterly bored,” Carrie said, entering the room. “Here—I borrowed this from Miss Britt last week, and she’s not expecting it back yet.” She handed Georgia a novel. “I’m sure you haven’t read it yet—it’s fairly new.”

  “No, I haven’t. Thank you.” Georgia took the book gratefully and opened it to the first page, hoping that she wasn’t wrinkling her dress too badly by flopping back on the bed the way she had. She couldn’t help it—whenever she read, she had to flop. She had to be completely comfortable.

  The story was set on the boardwalk in Atlantic City. It sounded completely wonderful, but Georgia doubted she’d ever be able to go see it for herself—it had to be over a thousand miles away. She could imagine, though.

  She’d just reached the part where the hero’s betrayal was discovered when she heard the clock chime nine, and she jumped off the bed and shook out her skirt. A glance in the mirror told her she was still presentable, although not as crisp as she would have liked, and she raced down the stairs so she wouldn’t be too terribly late.

  Mr. Larsen was waiting in the parlor, and he came to his feet when he saw her. “I’m glad you were able to make it,” he said, inclining his head. “I feared that after your busy day, you’d be too tired.”

  “I’m all right. I did notice that you slept through dinner—you must have been quite tired as well.” She decided not to mention the snoring. It would be unkind to embarrass him.

  “I was awake on the train last night, and yes, the nap I took was much needed. Don’t worry about me—I’m not hungry.” He motioned toward the door. “Shall we go?”

  “We shall.”

  They stepped outside into the cool night air, and Georgia looked up into the sky. The stars were coming out later now as it was nearing summer, and they shone down at full force as if knowing that she loved to look at them.

  “What do you see?” Mr. Larsen asked.

  The night was still enough that she heard his voice, although faintly, and she turned to him. “I see possibilities. I see dreams being made into reality. I see the future. What do you see?”

  He looked up as well. “I see a mystery that has yet to be unfolded. Where did the stars come from, and what might be on them? I confess that as a little boy, I was very much into the sciences. I couldn’t decide if I’d rather spend my life studying iguanas or space. But then I read an exciting serial in the newspaper. There had been a theft of some kind, and it was up to the clever and dashing detective to solve the case and make everyone safe again. At that moment, my aspirations changed.”

  “It’s rather hard for me to imagine you as a little boy,” Georgia said, contemplating him. “Were you this serious as a child?”

  “Me? Serious?” He chuckled as though determined to prove her wrong. “I didn’t realize I was.”

  “Maybe I misspoke. You’re focused and determined. Is that better?”

  “Slightly, but in either case, I’m not very exciting or interesting, am I?” He motioned toward the road. “Which way shall we go?”

  “Toward town,” Georgia replied. “Otherwise, we’ll be stuck staring at the railroad station, and that’s not very picturesque.”

  “True.”

  They threaded through the gate, then walked down Main Street. Most of the businesses were dark, but up ahead, there was music and laughter coming from the saloon.

  “I’m glad the moon is bright tonight—I didn’t even think to bring a lantern. I’m not very prepared.”

  “That’s all right. Mother Nature took care of it.” Georgia pulled in a deep breath. “I have to confess, it’s been a long time since I’ve been out for a stroll like this. You’ll have to forgive me if I’m suddenly tongue-tied or if I trip over my own feet.”

  “You don’t have much time for callers at the hotel?”

  “I don’t have many callers. Although, yes, we are very busy. I suppose it’s a two-sided coin.” She glanced over at him. “Thank you.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Whatever for?”

  “I noticed that you’ve pitched your voice slightly louder, but you’re not shouting or making it obvious. You’re very kind.”

  “I hoped it would be helpful and wouldn’t embarrass you.”

  “Not at all. I appreciate it.” They took another few steps while she tried to figure out what to say next. What could she talk about that could possibly interest him? He was a detective, used to the thrill of the chase. She was a waitress, used to dishing up plates of food and cleaning spills. The most exciting thing she’d done in days was read that novel, and she didn’t suppose he’d care to hear about that—it was a silly romantic bit, not at all written for a male reader.

  “Are you all right? You seem to have fallen silent.”

  “I’m sorry. I was just trying to figure out something to say that wouldn’t bore you.”

  “Bore me?” He laughed and shook his head. “Miss Baker, you do anything but bore me, even when you’re not speaking. There’s something about you . . .” He stopped both speaking and walking, and she paused as well. “I really should watch my words more carefully. We only met earlier today, and here I am, taking liberties as though we’ve known each other much longer. I apologize.”

  “It’s all right. I’m flattered, actually.” Georgia was glad that it was dark enough to hide the blush on her cheeks. What did he mean, there was something about her? What sort of something?

  “I don’t mean to flatter you. I’m trying to compliment you, but I’m not doing a very good job.” He started walking again, and she fell into step. “You’re refreshing. You seem very much like a real person, someone I could talk with rather than someone who just wants to be fawned over. Does that make any sense, or am I being confusing?”

  “I take it you’ve had experiences with these other sorts of people,” Georgia said, her tone dry.

  “I have. Apparently, it’s the worst sort of offense that I’m not married yet, and everyone in my circle is trying to find me a bride. That’s not something that can be forced or rushed, in my opinion, and I’m not even sure that marriage is the right course of action for me. My work is dangerous, and I couldn’t ask a woman to tie herself to someone who could come home injured or might not come home at all.”

  Georgia pasted a polite smile on her face. “That would make for a very awkward marriage.”

  “It would. It hardly seems fair.”

  So that’s how it was—she was a breath of fresh air, but he had no intention of marrying. Once again, she chastised herself for being silly. One day of knowing him, and she’d already begun to hope. All he’d done to encourage her was invite her out for a walk—he was probably tired of being cooped up and wanted to stretch his legs. She was so foolish—and reading that novel hadn’t helped anything.

  As they approached the saloon, two men walked out and stood on the porch, smoking and talking. Georgia glanced their way, but then dropped her gaze as she and Mr. Larsen passed. They weren’t the sort to make eye contact with.

  Once they were farther down the road, Georgia motioned back over her shoulder. “Men like that make me nervous.”

  “Oh? How so?”

  “The way they stand there, watching people pass by, like they’re plotting something. Those men in particular.”

  “Why those men in particular?”

  His interest suddenly seemed heightened, and she found herself scrambling for words. She was probably overreacting to the situation—the saloon always made her nervous regardless of who was standing out front. “They were talking about having enough ammunition. I’m sure they’re just planning a hunting trip—my imagination has always gotten me into trouble. Please forget that I said anything.”

  He didn’t reply, but quickened his
step until the saloon was a full block behind them. “How do you know what they were saying?”

  “I read their lips. I didn’t mean to—it’s just a natural reflex by now because I’ve practiced it so much.” He seemed very intense again, and she wondered what she’d said. “Is something the matter?”

  “Miss Baker, I need to get you back to the hotel, and then I need to have a serious conversation with you.”

  “I . . . I guess that’s all right.” She wanted to question him, but she could tell from his demeanor that this wasn’t a good time.

  They walked back to the hotel as quickly as they could, taking a parallel road rather than Main Street. Georgia assumed that was done to avoid the saloon, but she wouldn’t ask until they were back at the Brody. Mr. Larsen kept one light hand on her elbow, and she couldn’t help but feel that he was trying to protect her in some way, but from what?

  When they reached the hotel, she showed Mr. Larsen into the parlor, then sat down in a chair near the fireplace. It wasn’t lit, but it still seemed like a cozy spot, and she was beginning to feel the need for some comfort. Whatever he had to say was not going to be pleasant.

  He glanced up and down the hallway and around the lobby before joining her in the other chair. “I’m sorry to seem so mysterious,” he began. “I must be acting quite strangely.”

  “That’s a fair way of putting it. What’s going on?”

  “I told you that I’m here undercover on a case. Those men we saw outside the saloon may be the men I’m looking for.”

  She sat and listened, wide-eyed, as he told her the details he knew—how a train carrying a fortune in gold would be passing through in a day and a half, and how he’d been hired to apprehend the thieves—or at least prevent the robbery.

  “That does sound incredible,” she said when he was finished. “You say that the train is heavily guarded?”

  “Yes. The gold company brought on extra security specifically for this run, and there are other Pinkerton men here and there along the journey as well. I was sent to see if I could find the robbers here in town, and those two outside the saloon seem the type. Have you ever noticed them before?”