by Bess McBride
Wagons pulled by weary horses passed by, some very close to the streetcar, and Annie winced at the danger to the animals. The jingling of their livery added to the general noise. A single car moved down the road, attempting to pass the wagons without success. The air smelled of coal, dust and that odd smell of moisture in clay or brick, probably emanating from the tall buildings surrounding the square an all sides. A light haze hovered over the downtown area, evident as she scanned the length of the street beyond.
With great care, Annie clung to the concrete banister and made her way down the steps. Without a particular direction in mind, she turned to the right and moved down the street, trying her best to avoid grabbing at her skirt; however, her innate desire to keep her clothes clear of the dust on the sidewalk overrode her best efforts, and she clutched at her skirt and petticoat with one hand to raise them just a bit. She noted women passing by had no such trouble and simply walked on heedless of whether or not their skirts swept the road. What a nice way to keep the sidewalks clean, Annie thought with a twitch of her lips.
She walked along the side of the hotel and studied the doorways of various shops and business across the street with interest. Bold red and white striped awnings over many of the entrances broke the hard surface of the often linear five-story buildings. She wanted to peer into the shops. Unclear of the jaywalking laws, she watched several people cross the street as needed, and she hiked up her skirt a little higher, looked both ways and stepped into the street.
In the general chaotic noise of the road, she missed the clip-clop of a horse’s hooves, and a white horse reared as she stepped off the curb and into the path of a wagon. Annie jumped back with a screech and caught the edge of her skirt with her heel. She fell onto her backside and rolled away from the horse, covering her head with her hands. She barely noticed that her hat had come loose and lay by her face.
“Whoa, whoa!” said a man nearby. She assumed it was the driver, and peeked through the veil of her now disheveled hair to see two men settling the startled horse—an older man in a dusty dark coat and trousers wearing a cap, and another man, tall and well dressed in a dark suit and a bowler. The horse settled, and the second man rushed over to her.
Annie noted a crowd had begun to build.
“Madam! Are you all right? That was certainly a close call.” Also an older man, he bent to help her up and helped her back to the curb.
“I’m fine,” she mumbled. “I’m fine.” She turned to look at the horse. “Is he all right?” she called to the driver. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you coming.”
“Yes, miss, he’s fine. No need to worry about him. Are you all right?” the driver asked, his large mustache barely moving as he spoke.
“I’m okay,” she called. She half turned to the crowd of about ten people or so on the sidewalk behind her. “I’m okay,” she called out to the bystanders, and gave them a short wave. Thankfully, they started to disperse and move on. The driver walked his horse and cart carefully by and moved down the road.
Annie brushed off her skirts and looked at the gentleman who picked up her hat. She followed his gaze to her hair, now hanging over her shoulders.
“I must look a mess,” she muttered, hoping that sounded appropriate for the time. “Could you just hold my hat for me for a minute?” she asked as she pulled out her pins and bundled her hair back up again. “Thanks,” she said as she stuck the hat back on her head. “I’m not from around here, so I’m afraid I wasn’t watching carefully enough,” she offered.
“Where are you from, Miss…?” Something about him seemed familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Gleaming silver hair peeped out from beneath his hat. His clothing looked expensive, though Annie had no idea whether it was. The silver buttons of his dark blue waistcoat gleamed, and somehow the dust of the road had spared his shoes.
“St. John,” she replied. “Annie St. John.” She looked toward the hotel, hoping to escape the street and retreat to the room, perhaps to try her solo jaunt another time.
“Harold O’Rourke, at your service. Please call me Hal.” He bowed gallantly.
Annie swung her head back towards him. “Harold O’Rourke?” she repeated. He shared Rory’s height and build.
Silver eyebrows shot up. “Yes, O’Rourke. Have we met, madam?”
Annie shook her head, and resisted her first instincts to say, But I know your son.
“No, no, we haven’t.”
“Perhaps you do business with my bank, Seattle Union Bank?”
Annie shook her head. “No. Well, thank you very much for your help. I’d better get back inside.”
“Oh, are you staying at the hotel? I was just on my way in. I am staying there as well. Let me escort you.” He held out a hand, and Annie had little choice but to take his arm. If he had a local bank, why was he staying at a hotel?
“And where are you from, Miss St. John?” he asked as they walked back toward the hotel. Mr. O’Rourke kept the pace at a leisurely stroll.
“Chicago.” Could this be Rory’s father? Rory had let slip that he didn’t seem to like his father very much. If so, and it seemed likely given the name, then it was especially odd that he was staying at the same hotel. Rory hadn’t said anything. She gave in to her curiosity.
“If you own a bank in Seattle, why are you staying at the hotel, Mr. O’Rourke?”
He broke his stride for a moment and looked down at her in surprise. Then he smiled and resumed the slow pace.
“Mrs. O’Rourke requested that I do so,” he murmured. “I acceded to her wishes.”
“Oh!” Annie said. She bit her lips. That was forthright. Did Rory know? “I’m sorry for prying.”
“Not at all,” he said, almost jovially. “The news will soon be all over town. There is no reason a stranger from Chicago should not be one of the first to know.”
Annie suspected he wasn’t as overjoyed as he appeared to be. They reached the foot of the steps, and Annie did her best to get up the stairs without hanging onto him as she had clung to Rory for support the night before.
The doorman opened the door and they entered the lobby.
“Father! What on earth are you doing?” Rory said, his dark brows narrowed in a stormy expression.
Annie was right. They were of the same height. She dropped her arm as the men stared at one another.
“I might ask you the same thing,” his father said. “Why are you here? I did not tell your mother I was staying here.”
“I am not here for you,” Rory said darkly.
His father followed Rory’s eyes to Annie. One eyebrow shot up.
“Miss St. John? And how do you know Miss St. John?”
Rory held out his arm to Annie, and with a dizziness reminiscent of being handed off in a square dance move, she slipped her hand under his arm.
“We are acquainted,” Rory said shortly. “Good day to you, Father.” He nodded his head sharply and moved away, seeming to forget that Annie’s hand was clasped beneath his arm.
She allowed him to clear to the lobby and move down the hallway before she pulled her arm from his grasp.
“I can’t keep up with you, Rory. You’re walking too fast.”
Rory paused to look at her. “How on earth did you meet my father? Where have you been? Why did you leave without your sister…or without me?”
Annie held up her hands as if to stop the horse in the street. “Whoa! Just a minute there, pal! Remember, I get a little cranky when you get in that demanding way that you do. Ask me nicely.” She moved past him and rounded the corner to take the stairs.
Rory caught up to her. “Forgive me, Miss St. John. I was just surprised, and a little taken aback. My relationship with my father is not the best, and I apologize for allowing that to color my words to you.”
She paused on the first landing. “I understand. I met him in the street. I…uh…had a little accident when I was crossing the street, scared a horse more than it scared me, and I fell down. Your father helped me up, and decided to wal
k me back to the hotel. He seems nice,” she offered tentatively.
“My father is a very pleasant sort of fellow, if you are not married to him. What sort of accident?” Rory said. He surveyed her. “Your skirt and shirtwaist are dusty. Are you injured in any way? I do wish you had waited for me to escort you. Our streets are very busy, very congested, even dangerous at times, as you have seen.”
“I’m fine,” she said for the third time. “I’m sorry I didn’t wait. I just wanted to get out first thing and experience the town for myself, the sights, the sounds…”
He tilted his head and regarded her quizzically. “You seem…interested in our era, Miss St. John. Dare I hope?”
Annie blinked. “Hope for what?”
With bronzed cheeks, Rory rubbed a hand along his chin and shook his head. “Poor choice of words,” he muttered. He held out his arm to her once again, and they climbed the stairs. “What I meant to say is that I hope that you will not find your time here too onerous, too burdensome. I do not wish unhappiness on either you or your sister.”
“Thank you, Mr. O’Rourke,” she said. “I’m doing okay, but I’m not sure how well Marie will do. As you may have guessed from last night’s conversation, her life is much fuller than mine. I’m not sure what she’ll do if she can’t get back. She enjoys her life in Chicago very much.”
“And you?” he asked.
“It’s a life,” Annie murmured with a smile. “Nothing to write home about.”
“I see,” he said briefly. Annie detected a strange note in his voice, but couldn’t decipher it.
They arrived at the door and Annie pushed it open, peeping in to ensure that Marie wasn’t hanging out in the sitting room in her underwear. She wasn’t. Annie opened the door to let Rory in.
“By the way, aren’t you here early?” she asked as they stepped inside.
“I awoke early, and after developing the photographs, I thought I would rush over here to deliver them. I am not known as a portrait photographer, but I think I did quite well. Perhaps the subject matter was most inspiring.” He flashed that brilliant smile, and Annie clutched a chair back to steady her knees. Such a handsome man! She could see a small resemblance to his father but suspected his dark hair and bright blue eyes came from his mother. And that smile…
“You’re smiling,” Annie said inconsequentially, her eyes glued to his mouth.
Rory broadened his smile even further, and Annie sank into the chair, heedless of the dirt on her skirt.
“I am, Miss St. John. I cannot help it.” He removed his hat and pulled a packet from the inside of his coat pocket. “Would you like to see the photographs?”
“Sure.”
He unwrapped the packet and brought the photographs to her. Just like the pictures from the old-time touristy photography shops, she and Marie stood by the fireplace in black and white, their faces softer than she would have thought, their hair gleaming under the reflected light of the wall sconces and their clothes utterly gorgeous. Annie never imagined she could look so good in such stark colors.
“Wow! These are beautiful,” she said. “If you ever decide to give up traveling, I’m sure you could make a nice living doing portraits.” She looked up. Rory’s face sobered. Had she said something wrong?
“I have thought of settling down,” he said with an almost wistful note. “I do not particularly care to give up my travels, but life on the road is not always conducive to a happy family.”
Annie drew in a sharp breath. Was he thinking of marrying? No!
“However, it is not impossible that my future wife might not travel with me.”
“Are you getting mar—”
A knock on the door startled them, and Annie rose to get the door. The girls from the clothing shop entered and sank into little curtseys in front of Rory. Annie wasn’t quite sure curtseying was still that common, but Rory had that Prince Charming look about him.
He checked his pocket watch. “I shall await you in the lobby. Please take your time, as I arrived early.”
Rory left, and the vibrancy in the room seemed to leave with him.
“Hi girls, let me go see if my sister is awake yet.”
Annie entered the bedroom to find Marie standing at the window.
“Oh, I didn’t know you were awake. Did you just wake up?”
Marie yawned and turned to her. “No, I’ve been up long enough to hear your boy talk about a future wife. That’s not good,” she chuckled.
“He’s not my boy, dear sister. Somehow the modern terminology doesn’t suit him. Man, I’ve got a lot to tell you. In the last hour, I met his father, almost got run over by a horse, my corset isn’t quite as tight as it was, but the girls are here, so they can help you dress. And believe me, you’re going to need their help!”
Annie called Sally and Jennifer into the bedroom, and the four of them set about getting Marie dressed in a beautiful sky blue silk blouse, dark blue skirt and matching bolero jacket. Unlike Annie, Marie slipped into her drawers without question. Wishing for Mrs. Sanford’s salon-style skills, Annie pulled Marie’s hair up and wrapped it into a bun.
“Good enough,” Marie said.
“Miss, your skirt and your shirtwaist are soiled,” Sally cried out when Marie was dressed with hat and gloves. “Let me see if I can clean those for you.” She ran to the bathroom and returned with a damp cloth, which miraculously removed the dust from Annie’s skirt and blouse.
“Oh, so this is a shirtwaist?” Annie asked as she surveyed her frilly blouse. “Interesting name.”
“Yes, miss.” Sally gave her a curious look. She turned to rummage through the boxes and came up with a similarly styled jacket that matched Annie’s skirt.
“Wait, miss, there are a few buttons undone.” Sally adjusted those, and handed her a pair of gloves.
After seeing the shop girls out, Annie and Marie descended the stairs while Annie gave her sister a recap of the morning’s events.
“Why did you go outside by yourself, Annie? Who knows what could have happened to you? We’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy!”
Annie shrugged. “Because I wanted to. I just wanted to experience the town for myself.”
“That and the underside of a horse’s hooves!” Marie said with a lift of her eyebrow.
Annie responded with a flash of her eyes. “You try trotting across the street in between moving streetcars, horses, wagons, pedestrians and the occasional ‘automobile’ honking that moogah sound. It’s hectic out there. And not a streetlight or road crossing in sight.”
“I’ve got better sense. That’s why I would wait for Rory to accompany us.”
They neared the lobby, and Annie paused. “Well, he’s not going to be here all the time, Sis! We’re going to have to figure out how to get around on our own. Besides, I think he might be engaged, and if that’s true, I doubt his fiancée is going to tolerate him babysitting two other women.” Annie swallowed hard at the thought.
“Engaged? I didn’t know that.”
“I don’t know for sure, but I thought something he said this morning about a ‘future wife’ sounded like he was engaged.” Annie sighed heavily.
“Interesting,” Marie murmured. She gave Annie a sharp look. “Well, I’m starved. Let’s see what they serve for breakfast here.”
When Rory saw them, he folded his newspaper and stood.
“I took the liberty of requesting a table for breakfast as I assumed you ladies had not eaten. Mrs. Sanford has packed a delightful picnic lunch for us, but I think it will be some time before we are able to eat—therefore, you must have something to sustain you until then.”
His smile encompassed them both, and Annie wondered how Marie hadn’t succumbed to his charm, fiancé or not. Marie greeted Rory cordially, but she appeared composed, lacking the bright red cheeks which Annie knew she now sported under brilliance of Rory’s smile.
“Sounds good!” Marie said. Rory led the way into the dining room, now quieter than it had been the night before. Anni
e noted the men, like Rory, wore suits similar to those modern day men wore, if a bit old-fashioned in appearance. Gone were the black and white coattails, the glittering jewels and off-shoulder gowns of the evening before. She and Marie appeared to be dressed appropriately if the similarly lacy shirtwaists, tulip-shaped skirts and matching jackets of the other women were anything to go by.
Annie’s natural instinct was to remove her hat once seated, and in fact, Marie reached up to do so, but Annie shook her head.
“I think we’re supposed to leave the hats on,” she said in a low voice. “Look.” With a nod of her head, she gestured toward the room in general where all the women wore variations of hats—small and large—festooned with ribbons, silk flowers, feathers and even entire birds. Annie winced at the sight of a robin on one woman’s hat.
“Is that a real bird?” she leaned toward Rory to whisper.
Rory and Marie followed her gaze.
“Yes, I am afraid so. In fact, while I was photographing in Montana I met with a man named George Bird Grinnell who founded a small organization called the Audubon Society about twenty years ago in an attempt to halt the mass slaughter of wild birds for the fashion industry. Many such conservation organizations have since sprung up, and coalesced into a larger society called the National Association Societies for the Protection of Wild Birds and Animals.”
“Yes, the Audubon Society,” Annie murmured. She looked away from the women’s hat, thinking it hideous.
“However, sadly, no laws for the protection of these birds have been enacted as of yet,” Rory said with a sigh.
“Do you photograph wildlife?” Annie asked.
“Yes, I must admit that I have been known on occasion to place myself in some precarious situations in an attempt to capture the perfect photograph. I have had several encounters with bears in Alaska, as well as one very cross mother moose during my recent trip to Montana. I should have realized that she had calves, but they were hidden in the brush, and I did not see them until I found myself between them and their mother.” Rory’s grin belied the seriousness of his words.
