The Dark and the Dawn (Kansas Crossroads Book 3)

by Amelia C. Adams

  ***

  Phillip rode up to the Browns’ house and dismounted, tying his horse up outside. He hoped Mr. Brown would be at home this time—when he’d stopped by after his visit with Adam Brody, Mr. Brown was away doing odd jobs for someone across town, and his wife had no idea where he could be found. When Phillip tapped on the door, he was greeted by Mrs. Brown, who pushed her bangs out of her face as she peered up at him.

  “Oh, Doctor. Hello. I’m sorry—we had rather a rough night.” She stepped back and let him in. “Daisy threw up a few more times after you left yesterday, but she did keep some of the milk down this morning.”

  “That’s good.” Phillip wondered how much of the laudanum the child had vomited. It was merely a painkiller and wouldn’t speed her healing, but it would have helped with her discomfort. “May I see her?”

  “Of course.” Mrs. Brown stepped aside and let him in. Daisy was asleep, but she looked a bit better than she had before, and her fever was somewhat reduced. He wished this situation would rectify sooner—he disliked seeing a fever go beyond twenty-four hours, but if the body wasn’t ready to respond, there was nothing he could do to force it save immersing her in an ice bath, and the situation wasn’t that dire yet. He paused. There were herbs that could aid a fever—he wished he could remember what they were. Somewhere in his office, he had an article about it.

  “I don’t need to examine her stomach again, so there’s no need for her to be awakened,” Phillip told Mrs. Brown, speaking softly. “Let her sleep as much as she likes. The body heals best when it’s fully rested. Now, where is your husband? Is he here today?”

  “He’s out back sanding down some chairs he’s going to paint for the neighbor down the road,” Mrs. Brown explained.

  “I’d like to speak with him before I go,” Phillip said. “You sit here with Daisy, and if she starts to vomit again, send for me, would you?”

  Mrs. Brown nodded. “Thank you, Dr. Wayment.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Phillip let himself out of the house and walked around to the back. Mr. Brown was hunkered over a chair, sanding off the last little bits of old paint. He straightened when he saw Phillip approaching.

  “Hello, Doc,” he said, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “How’s Daisy?”

  “A little better, but she’s not out of the woods yet. Did I give you enough money for milk?”

  Mr. Brown patted his pocket. “Sure did. I’ve got enough left for a few more days’ worth.”

  Phillip nodded. “Excellent. And thank you for the repair on my fence—I wasn’t expecting you to come so fast or work so quickly. You did a solid job.”

  The man shrugged. “No point in doing something if you aren’t going to do it well.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” Phillip leaned on the back of one of the chairs, trying to figure out the best way to phrase what he’d come to say. “I’ve done a little reading on your daughter’s condition, and it appears that the best way to keep her healthy is with regular portions of high-quality food. I’ll be blunt, Mr. Brown. It seems to me that your circumstances are rather humble, and I’ve come to you with an offer of temporary work at the Brody Hotel.”

  Mr. Brown blinked a few times. “You . . . found work for me?”

  Phillip held up both hands. “I realize I may have overstepped my bounds, and I apologize if that’s the case. I was looking for ways to help Daisy.”

  “No, no . . . you did a good thing. Thank you, Doctor.” Mr. Brown stepped forward and shook Phillip’s hand. “When am I expected?”

  “I imagine you could head over any time. They’ve got two large projects underway and could use the help.”

  “I’ll give these chairs their first coat of paint and then be on my way. Thanks, Doc. Thanks a lot. This will help us out.” He paused, glancing up at the sky. “This will help us out a lot.”

  Phillip rode the short distance home slowly. Caring for someone medically was simply not enough if you truly wanted them to get well. In Daisy’s case, all the medical intervention in the world wouldn’t do any good unless the underlying condition was addressed—she needed better food, and that couldn’t be obtained unless there was more income in the home. Phillip wished it were so easy to solve these types of problems for all his patients, but it wasn’t feasible, and in many cases, it wouldn’t be the moral thing to do. He couldn’t live a man’s life for him—he could only offer help, and then hope it was accepted and used wisely.

  Mrs. Hadley met him at the back door after he finished taking care of his horse. “You’re a bit later than I thought you’d be,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron.

  “I had to make amends to a young lady.” He took off his hat and hung it on the peg near the door. “She gave me quite the lecture, and I decided it was time to apologize and set things to rights.”

  Mrs. Hadley’s jaw went slack. “A young lady? Come now, Doctor, you must tell me everything. You haven’t mentioned a young lady in months. No, over a year. Out with it! Who is she?”

  ‘It’s nothing like that.” He walked down the hall toward his office, Mrs. Hadley right on his heels. “When I say she’s a young lady, I mean it—I don’t believe she’s even eighteen yet.”

  “Oh.” Mrs. Hadley sounded disappointed. She stood in his doorway while he settled in behind his desk. “Why was she lecturing you?”

  “Because I was a fool.”

  She raised her eyebrow. “That does sound like a good reason to lecture you. Am I to hear the rest of this story, or must I make it up in my head?”

  Phillip sighed. He didn’t want to go into all the details, but Mrs. Hadley would be working with Miss Peterson, and she should know what was about to happen in his practice. She wasn’t the type of housekeeper who enjoyed surprises. “The young lady is named Jeanette Peterson, and she works over at the Brody Hotel. When Tom White fell off the roof and broke his leg, she came to fetch me, and she assisted me in his case. She’s decided she’d like to become a nurse, and approached me about it. I said she could train under me.”

  “That’s a very good idea,” Mrs. Hadley said, nodding as she folded her arms across her plump middle. “I’ve often thought you could use an extra pair of hands.”

  “And then I told her I’d changed my mind.”

  Mrs. Hadley raised an eyebrow. “This is when she called you a fool, I presume? Because I certainly think that was foolish. Why on God’s green earth would you say such a thing?”

  Phillip pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “I was worried that she’d get in my way. However, most of it was my pride. I’m a very selfish man, Mrs. Hadley, and I like doing things my own way.”

  “Oh, you don’t need to tell me that,” she interjected. “I’ve been running up against it since my first day here.”

  He went on as though she hadn’t spoken. “I don’t want someone coming in here and tinkering with my systems and turning everything on its ear.”

  “I know that as well. So, I’m assuming that after this lecture she gave you, you did the wise thing and changed your mind? That is what you meant when you said you’d made amends?”

  “Yes. She’ll start here as soon as Mr. Brody can find her a replacement at the hotel.”

  Mrs. Hadley nodded once. “Very good. I’ll look forward to meeting this Miss Peterson. Anyone who has the nerve to stand up to you deserves my respect.”

  “What do you mean? You stand up to me every day.”

  “And I respect myself a great deal.” Mrs. Hadley gave him a wink. “And don’t forget about Mrs. Green. She asked you to check in, if you recall.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Hadley.”

  Phillip tried to concentrate on updating Daisy’s chart, but he couldn’t help reliving his conversation with Miss Peterson and then his ensuing apology. He never would have thought that someone so tiny and so young could put him in his place like she had. Maybe he was losing his authoritative edge. Or maybe she was a lot stronger than she looked.

&nb
sp; Chapter Five

  “Who is that new man out working on your cabin?” Jeanette asked Harriet as she set a stack of dishes next to the washtub.

  “That’s Harry,” Harriet replied. “Dr. Wayment arranged for him to work here until Tom’s better.”

  “Dr. Wayment arranged it?” Jeanette glanced out the window again, wondering what was so special about this man that he warranted the doctor’s attention.

  “Yes, something about being able to buy food for his daughter. Tom was certainly glad to hear about it—he’s worked with Harry on a few other projects and feels he’s a strong, reliable worker. Plus, his name is so similar to mine, he must be a good fellow, right?” Harriet scraped a few bits of bread into the slop bucket next to the washtub. “Are there any more dishes out there?”

  “This was the last of them.”

  “Thank goodness. My hands are so wrinkled, the skin’s about to fall right off.”

  Olivia pushed her way into the kitchen, her arms full of tablecloths. “Eighteen spills this meal alone. Eighteen! This must have been the messiest group ever. Honestly, when people sit down to eat, don’t they ever look at the tablecloth and realize that someone has to wash it?”

  “I didn’t until I came here,” Harriet said mildly. “Did you, Olivia?”

  Their new arrival from New York plopped the tablecloths into the laundry basket in the corner. “I admit, I didn’t. I’ll never take clean linens for granted again, I can tell you that.”

  “We didn’t have tablecloths,” Jeanette ventured. “My mother and I scrubbed the table after every meal.”

  “Was that easier or harder than washing tablecloths?” Harriet asked.

  “Scrubbing the table was by far easier,” Jeanette replied. “I don’t think Miss Hampton would go along with it for the hotel, though.”

  The girls laughed. “Well, I’ll get started on these,” Olivia said.

  “I’ll be along in a minute,” Harriet replied. “I’ve just got these last few dishes.”

  Jeanette grabbed a cloth and helped Harriet finish up. As she worked, she felt a twinge in her heart. As badly as she wanted to be a nurse, she would miss working alongside her new friends. She’d never felt so included and so part of a group. She had always been the outcast, the child sitting in the corner at recess because she had no one to play with except her sister, who wasn’t always at school because of illness. Now she felt like she belonged, and she was about to walk away from it. She sighed and picked up the basket of napkins, going outside to join Olivia over the washtub. The work was mundane, but at least they could talk while they scrubbed.

  “Well, that doesn’t look like much fun.”

  The girls looked up as a young woman approached across the lawn, carrying a satchel. She had long blonde hair in a braid coiled around her head, but tendrils were escaping everywhere. Jeanette wondered if she’d had a rough journey, or if her hair naturally refused to stay in place.

  “My name is Rachel Smith,” she said, coming up to them and setting her bag down on the ground at her feet. “And this is the Brody Hotel, isn’t it?”

  “It is,” Harriet said, drying her hands on her apron and holding one out toward the newcomer. “Are you here to answer the advertisement?”

  “I am. I hope the post is still open.” Rachel looked at each of them with hope in her eyes.

  “You’re the first one we’ve seen so far,” Abigail replied, walking up with a basket of dirty aprons.

  “That’s good. I mean, I’m sorry you haven’t had more applicants, but it does make my chances better, right?”

  Jeanette liked this girl’s open honesty. “I’m Jeanette. I’ll take you inside so you can meet Mr. Brody,” she said, drying her hands much as Harriet had done.

  “I’d appreciate that.” Rachel picked up her suitcase.

  Jeanette led the way into the hotel, past the dining room, where Miss Hampton and Elizabeth were cleaning the floor, and down the hall to Mr. Brody’s office. She knocked lightly, then pushed the door open when he said, “Come in.”

  “Mr. Brody?” she said as she entered. “This is Rachel Smith. She’s come to apply for the position.”

  Mr. Brody stood and nodded. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Smith. Please, have a seat.”

  “Good luck,” Jeanette whispered as Rachel walked past her.

  “Thank you,” Rachel whispered in return.

  Jeanette kept her fingers crossed all the way back out to her washtub. If this worked out, if Mr. Brody hired Rachel, she could begin working for Dr. Wayment right away.

  ***

  When Jeanette went upstairs to make up the guest room on the far end of the hallway, she saw Miss Smith coming down the stairs from the attic dormitory. She had changed out of her traveling clothes and now wore a work dress.

  “So you’re to join us here, then?”

  “Yes. Mr. Brody offered me the position. I’m so relieved.” Rachel smoothed down her hair, which was already escaping the new braid she’d obviously taken the time to plait. “Thank you for welcoming me here.”

  “I think you’ll feel at home in no time,” Jeanette said. “Did Miss Hampton assign you your first task?”

  “Yes. She said I should find you and ask you to show me how to make up a guest room.”

  “Then you’re in luck, for here I am. Follow me.”

  Jeanette was overcome by the smell of tobacco when she opened the door to the room they were to clean. She waved her hand in front of her face, trying to displace some of the air as she walked across the room to open the window.

  “Miss Hampton detests cigars and chewing tobacco, and she hates it when a guest uses either in the rooms,” she said, throwing the curtains wide and allowing sunlight to stream in through the panes. When she lifted the sash, the fresh air was more than welcome. “She wants to make a rule against it, but Mr. Brody says he fears that will dissuade people from checking in.”

  She showed Rachel how to change the sheets on the bed and how to arrange the pillows just so. Then they dusted, and after that, they swept the floor.

  “Mr. Brody’s goal is to run the nicest, cleanest hotel in Kansas,” Jeanette explained. “Everything gets changed out after a guest has been here. It does make for more laundry, but our guests have said how much they appreciate the freshness of their beds.”

  “I can certainly understand that,” Rachel said as she crammed a sheet into the laundry basket Jeanette had brought upstairs. “Nothing’s nicer than a fresh bed.”

  “So, tell me about yourself, Rachel,” Jeanette said. She’d been about to call her “Miss Smith,” but instinctively guessed that this girl would much prefer to be on first-name terms.

  “There’s really not a lot to tell. My fiancé worked for the railroad, and I came out here to meet him and marry him. But when I arrived, they told me he’d been killed in an explosion.” She shrugged her shoulders. “So I have nothing, and no way to get back home. I figured, working at a hotel was a respectable thing to do until I’m back on my feet.”

  Jeanette’s eyes widened. “You just lost your fiancé?”

  Rachel nodded. “He was in charge of setting the blast, and apparently, there was a miscalculation about how much powder they put in or how long the wick was or something. They tried to explain it to me, but I don’t think I was listening very well.” Her voice was calm, but her eyes were filled with unshed tears.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.” Jeanette reached out and touched Rachel’s shoulder. “You won’t be alone here—many of us have also lost someone recently. Abigail and I lost our parents, and Harriet’s fiancé died about a year ago. She had a happy ending, though—she just married Tom, our handyman.”

  “That’s good. I mean, I’m happy for her.” Rachel tugged down the corner of the blanket, even though it wasn’t needed. “I just can’t picture myself falling in love again. He was . . . he was something special.”

  “This will be a good place for you.” Jeanette put her arms around the other girl’s shoulders
and squeezed. “Let’s go see what Miss Hampton would like us to do next. We only had one guest last night, so we’re done cleaning rooms for now.”

  As they walked down the stairs, Jeanette couldn’t help but think about the paths that had led each of them to the hotel. They were a strange assortment, every one of them running from something or trying to find a place to belong. She and Abigail were no different, but she didn’t want to think about that. She’d rather focus on happy things, like the two sets of newlyweds brought together by the hotel. There were beautiful things in the world too, and not just ugly ones.

  ***

  Early the next morning, Jeanette put on her light green sprigged muslin dress and brushed through her hair. She’d become so used to wearing the dark dresses required as an employee of the Brody Hotel that she almost didn’t recognize herself when she looked in the mirror that hung over the basin in the ladies’ dormitory room. After deciding she was satisfied with how she looked, she turned around and watched her sister sleep for a moment.

  Abigail had always been her fierce protector, standing between her and whatever danger threatened her. She led the way, she carved the path, and now Jeanette had to tell her she was striking out on her own. Why hadn’t she told her before? Waiting so long would only make it that much harder.

  She sat down on the edge of her sister’s bed and touched her shoulder. “Abigail?”

  Abigail opened her eyes and blinked them a few times. “What’s the matter? What time is it?”

  “Just before dawn. I . . . I need to tell you something.”

  Abigail scooted up in bed and leaned against the headboard. “Are you sick? Wait—why are you already dressed? Are you going somewhere?”

  Jeanette looked down at her hands, which were clenched in her lap. “I’m not really going anywhere, but I’m about to have a grand adventure.”

  Abigail rubbed her eyes. “It’s a little too early for hints, Jeanette. Can you please tell me what you’re talking about?”