A Joyful Noise (Kansas Crossroads Book 14)

by Amelia C. Adams

“That’s the very last I’m going to hear about that,” Elizabeth said firmly from the other side of the room, where she’d gone to get out of the way during the examination. “You’ll do as the doctor tells you without the slightest bit of complaining.”

  “All right,” Nora replied. “I’ll try to be good.”

  “See that you do.” Dr. Wayment tossed his stethoscope back in his bag, then gathered up the few other instruments he’d used. “I’ll be back later this morning to make sure you haven’t had an increase in pain. If anything happens before that, send for me at once.”

  “We will, and thank you,” Elizabeth said.

  Once the doctor and nurse had gone downstairs, Elizabeth looked around the room at all the girls. They were each sitting their beds, also trying to stay out of the way, but not a one of them able to sleep with everything that was going on. “Try to get some rest now, all right? The morning’s coming awfully soon, and I can’t stop the trains from coming. I would, though, if I could—I think today would be lovely for a break.”

  Georgia had to agree.

  Nora took another sip of her tea and then slid down under her covers. “Thank you all for being so kind. I can’t imagine such good care being taken of me anywhere else.”

  “We’ll stay right on top of things,” Carrie promised. “I’ll borrow as many books as you can read, and we’ll keep you entertained.”

  “Right now, I just need some sleep,” Nora replied, and all the girls lay down. This time, Georgia didn’t have any trouble at all drifting off. Extreme exhaustion would do that to a person.

  ***

  Chet slept poorly the rest of the night. He blamed it on the long nap he’d taken the previous afternoon, but he knew the real problem—a lovely waitress who cared deeply about her friends and who had seemed uncommonly relieved when he suggested escorting her outside. She was a combination of strength and delicacy like he’d never seen before, and he wanted to know what made her so delicate and also what made her so strong. He imagined that her illness and subsequent deafness had contributed to both, but was that the full story, or was there more? He would love to sit with her for hours and hear every detail of her life, but that would hardly work when he had a job to do that was so very important.

  As always seemed to happen at the end of a sleepless night, the sun had just begun to rise when he drifted off, and then he came awake with a sudden jerk. As tempting as it was to sleep in, he needed to be on the case, and that meant getting up and facing the day.

  He washed at the small table in the corner. A maid or someone else had brought in a pitcher of water while he was out walking with Miss Baker, and it felt good to freshen up. He pulled his toothbrush from his bag, and after that, combed his hair. He was ready to face the world—or as ready as he could be.

  When he entered the dining room, he found it mostly empty, and none of the diners looked like potential train robbers. There were several women and a few families, but no men traveling alone. Unless this gang included a grandmother and two children under the age of eight, he didn’t believe he’d find his culprits in the Brody for this meal.

  “I imagine you’d like to sit at one of Georgia’s tables,” one of the waitresses said, and he smiled.

  “I would. Thank you . . .”

  “I’m Posy.”

  “Thank you, Posy.” He followed her to a table near the kitchen door, where he sat and unfolded his napkin. Just moments later, Georgia exited the kitchen, placed a stack of flapjacks on a nearby table, and then turned toward him.

  “Good morning, Mr. Larsen,” she said with a smile. “What can I get you? Sarah made her famous flapjacks this morning, or I could offer you some steak and eggs.”

  “What if I were to shake things up and order some flapjacks and eggs? Would that disrupt the order of the universe too much?”

  “I believe all the planets will stay exactly where they should be.” She gave him another smile before moving back into the kitchen.

  Mr. Brody approached the table and shook his hand. “How goes your quest, Mr. Larsen?”

  “I hope today will be fruitful. I noticed that your dining room is fairly empty.”

  “Yes, the first train is often somewhat sparse. We’re busier with the next train, which comes in from Wichita.”

  “Wichita, you say.” That seemed like a likely bet. It was the next nearest town, a logical place for a robber to wait until time to ride in to prepare for his task. “What time does that train arrive?”

  “Ten o’clock, generally right on the nose.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Brody.” That gave Chet two hours to speak with the saloon owner—that was, if the saloon was even open this early in the morning. That was something he hadn’t considered the night before. He’d been eager to take care of the situation as quickly as possible, but saloons didn’t keep the same sorts of hours as other businesses. He might end up waiting until later in the day after all, and that certainly wouldn’t calm his already anxious nerves.

  Georgia returned with his food, and he picked up his fork gratefully. He didn’t often eat well while on a case.

  When he finished eating, he stayed in his seat until Georgia returned to the dining room to start clearing tables. Then he moved to her side and spoke with her. “Do you have any free time today?”

  “I’m afraid not—not until after the last train.”

  “I’d enjoy spending a little more time with you, if that’s possible.”

  She looked down and then back up, smiling. “I’d like that.”

  “Tell me about your friend, the waitress who was taken ill last night. Is she all right today?”

  “She’s resting, and the doctor will be back this morning to check on her. That’s really all we know right now.”

  “I hope you’ll let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

  “I will, but right now, the most important thing is for you to focus on your task.” She looked at him earnestly. “I’m worried about all those people, Mr. Larsen.”

  “Chet,” he said automatically.

  “Chet,” she repeated. “You must do everything you can for them.”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t dream of letting them down.”

  “All right, then.” She gave him a broad smile. “Get to it, then. I know you have things to do this morning.”

  He smiled in return. “I do. I just wanted to make plans with you first.”

  “And now they’re made, and you can tell me all about your day later.” She gathered up a stack of dishes and walked into the kitchen, leaving him amused and befuddled. It would seem that she’d just thrown him out and told him to stop lollygagging. Very well—he’d stop at once.

  He left the hotel, walked down Main Street, and crossed it after waiting for a fairly large wagon to go first. When he stepped onto the broad wooden porch of the saloon, he heard voices coming from inside, so he pushed through the doors.

  The place was all but empty except for a few men gathered around the bar. He walked up and sat on one of the stools, nodding to the bartender when the man looked his way.

  “It’s a little early for a drink, isn’t it?” the man asked.

  “It’s never too early where I’m from,” Chet replied, tapping the bar with the side of his fist. “I’ll take whatever you’ve got handy.”

  The man glanced him over, then took a cup and a bottle from under the counter and served it up. Chet knocked it back in a series of gulps and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. This was one element of his job he disliked. He absolutely detested the taste of whiskey and the way it burned his tongue, but if he was to be believed, he had to act the part.

  “So, is it also too early to sit in on a game of poker?” he asked.

  The bartender glanced at the other men, then back at Chet. “Did you just get into town?”

  “Morning train. Dull as blazes. Practically empty, not a single good-looking woman to be found, and no one to get up a game with. Man’s got to earn a living, you know.”
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  “So you’re a gambler by trade.” One of the other men finally broke the silence and took a step toward him.

  Chet looked him over. He wasn’t one of the men who had been lurking outside the saloon the night before, but he hoped this man would offer him some sort of clue. “Maybe. Or I might just do it for fun. All depends on the company I’m with.”

  The man smirked. “I wouldn’t mind a game myself, but my friends won’t be here until around noon. Will you still be in the mood by then?”

  Chet scratched his chin as though thinking about it. “Probably. What I could also use is a day of shooting. Don’t suppose any here in your fair town offer up hunting parties of some sort.”

  “Hunting parties? What do you think this is, England?” The man laughed. “No, we do our hunting on our own, and not usually for sport.”

  “Too bad.” Chet glanced around again. “What time do the girls get here?”

  “You really are looking for a good time while you’re in town.” The man shook his head. “They come down around four. Not until then.”

  Chet nodded. “All right. I suppose I can wait.” He stood up, fished in his pocket for a coin and tossed it on the bar, and took a step back. “I’ll be around again later for that game of cards.”

  “I’ll join you if I’m available,” the man replied.

  All in all, a very interesting conversation. Chet wasn’t sure that he’d learned anything useful, but what he did know was that as he walked back up the street, someone was watching him from an upstairs window.

  Rather than going directly back to the hotel, he zigzagged down a side street. Once sure that he wasn’t being followed, he circled around the back of the hotel, where he found Tom chopping wood.

  “Morning,” he said. “It was Tom, wasn’t it?”

  “Sure was.” Tom stopped his work and leaned on his axe. “What can I do for you?”

  “I hope I’m not overstepping my bounds by asking, but do you ever run errands for the guests? If I needed a letter delivered, for instance, would you be able to help me?”

  “Of course,” Tom replied. “I run things to the post office quite a bit.”

  “This wouldn’t be to the post office,” Chet said. “I need a message taken to the sheriff.”

  Concern showed in Tom’s blue eyes, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he just nodded.

  “Thank you. I’ll go write the letter and bring it out here to you, if that’s all right.”

  “Of course,” Tom said again, then turned back to his work.

  Chet didn’t blame the man at all for his reaction. He supposed it would look very odd indeed for someone to send a note to the sheriff instead of simply going into the sheriff’s office and speaking with him directly. But if the person who had been watching him at the hotel were to see him enter the sheriff’s office, it would ruin his cover.

  Rather than returning to his room, he sat down at the small writing table in the corner of the hotel parlor and jotted off a note explaining who he was, why he’d come to Topeka, and asking the sheriff to be on the alert. He knew his superior had already sent a telegram to inform the sheriff of the possible robbery, but Chet was the only agent who knew about the possible accumulation of ammunition, and the sheriff needed to be updated.

  After passing the note off to Tom, Chet went back inside the hotel and sank into one of the parlor chairs, trying to determine his next move.

  He would definitely be in the dining room for the ten o’clock train, watching for anyone who seemed out of place. Then he’d go over to the saloon at noon and see if the two men from the night before were anywhere to be found. The Brody was the hotel closest to the train station, but it wasn’t the only one in town, and the men could be staying anywhere. For that matter, they might be staying with a friend or a relative, or hiding in someone’s barn.

  He was deep in thought when one of the maids entered the room, and he startled.

  “I’m sorry, sir! I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’m just here to dust.”

  “No, no, you’re fine,” he replied, waving her off. As she moved over to the mantel, he studied her, suddenly realizing that she looked a little familiar. She wasn’t connected to this case in any way, was she? No, that wasn’t possible. If he did know her, it would have been a while ago—a year ago, perhaps, and not here. He wished he could place her, but his memory wouldn’t cooperate.

  He came to his feet. “I’ll get out of your way, Miss . . .”

  She turned and smiled. “Emma, sir, but you can stay if you like.”

  “No, that’s all right. Nice to meet you, Emma.” He tipped his head and left the room. He’d hoped that learning her name would help jog his recollection, but she was still as much of a mystery as she had been a moment before. Perhaps she just had one of those faces that seemed familiar.

  Chapter Five

  Georgia sat near Nora’s bed, listening as the doctor gave his orders. “Complete bedrest, and that’s final,” he said, raising an eyebrow at her. “You must move your legs around a bit to keep the circulation strong to avoid clots, but if I catch wind of you trying to chop vegetables or anything else, I’ll have the other waitresses tie your wrist to the bedpost.”

  “All right,” Nora replied with a slight smile. “And this is until I deliver?”

  “It’s for now,” Dr. Wayment corrected. “As you progress, you might become stronger, but in these early days, we must be very careful. I’ll check in regularly, and if we see good signs, I’ll release you from this prison.”

  “I can live with that.” Nora smoothed her blanket over her stomach. “Thank you for everything, Doctor.”

  He gave a nod and turned to Elizabeth, who was in the other corner. “It would certainly be easier if she were on the ground floor and not up here in the attic.”

  “Believe me, I’ve told Adam countless times that we need to build on a sickroom,” she replied. “All this running up and down stairs—it gets exhausting.”

  “I’ll speak with him on my way out. Maybe between the two of us, we can convince him.”

  “I think he’s convinced, but it’s been a matter of having the time to do it. We’ve had so much upheaval.”

  “Understandable.” Dr. Wayment gathered up his things. “My wife was sorry to miss seeing you this morning, but she’s changing the dressing on a burn. She asks if she can stop by later just for a visit.”

  “Of course she can,” Nora replied. “I’ll look forward to it.”

  “I’ll pass along the word.”

  Georgia walked with the doctor down the stairs, making sure he found Mr. Brody, then went back into the kitchen to see what she could do to help. The train was due any minute, and Sarah and Ruth were moving even faster than usual to prepare.

  “Mr. Brody was just in here to promise that he’s hiring some new girls,” Sarah said to Georgia’s unasked question.

  “Thank goodness.” Georgia grabbed a knife and began slicing pats of butter. “With Grace on her honeymoon and Nora laid up, we’ll need them.”

  “And with you leaving,” Carrie added.

  “What?” Georgia couldn’t have misunderstood what the girl said—she’d seen her lips very clearly—but what on earth did she mean?

  “You and Mr. Larsen.”

  Georgia shook her head. “I’ve known him for one day. One day! I can’t possibly be making plans about anyone so quickly.” Even as she protested, though, she had to admit that she liked the idea.

  “Are you using your Christian names with each other?” Carrie wanted to know.

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “Well, nothing. You’re obviously taking things quickly as a general rule, so there’s no reason to think you won’t be engaged before he leaves.” Carrie slid a handful of carrots into the pot bubbling on the stove, and Georgia had to wonder. Engaged? By tomorrow? Ridiculous . . . but then again, she’d seen that very thing happen over and over again here at the Brody. It was like the place was enchanted somehow to make people fall
in love.

  If it was her turn, she wouldn’t complain too very much.

  The train pulled in, and everyone was situated at their tables. Georgia noticed with a smile that Carrie led Chet over to one of Georgia’s tables so she could wait on him. There was nothing subtle about that at all. She took his order, noticing all the while how warm his eyes were as he spoke to her, and was quite sure she was blushing when she entered the kitchen to collect his food. He hadn’t asked for much, but then again, he had eaten a full breakfast just two hours before. Why was he even in the dining room now if he wasn’t hungry? Why not wait another two hours and eat a full lunch with the next train?

  She could ask him about that later. For now, she gathered up a cup of coffee and a slice of pie, delivering it to his table and sliding it in front of him.

  “Thank you, Georgia,” he said. She liked the way her name looked on his face as he spoke it.

  As she came and went, she glanced his way and saw that he was sneaking peeks at the train passengers as they ate. Ah—that’s why he was in the dining room, but he might be missing the mark. When she walked over to refill his cup, she whispered, “You might do better keeping an eye on the train station. Nothing says they’ll come in here to eat.”

  He gave a slight nod, and she moved away to refill a cup at the next table, wondering just for the smallest moment what it would be like to serve coffee to just one man for the rest of her life.

  ***

  Chet could have kicked himself. Of course Georgia was right—there was no guarantee whatsoever that the robbers would come into the Brody to eat just because they’d been passengers on the train. Why hadn’t he thought of that? He knew why, and he didn’t like that he knew why. He’d let his attraction for Georgia cloud his judgment, the very thing he’d been warning himself about from the beginning. This was why he’d chosen to avoid relationships—he couldn’t afford to make mistakes while he mooned over a young lady.

  Even if she was a very fascinating young lady, and well worth the mooning.

  He finished his pie and rose from the table, ready to go upstairs to his room, but then he saw Mr. Brody coming toward his table with a large man in tow. “Mr. Larsen, this is Colonel Gordon,” Mr. Brody said, and Chet extended his hand to shake.