WANTED: Young women. 18–30 years of age, of good moral character, attractive and intelligent as waitress in Harvey Eating Houses on the Santa Fe Railroad in the West. Wages 17.50 per month with room and board. Liberal tips customary. Experience not necessary. Apply at the Harvey Employment Office, Eighteenth and Wentworth.
“Experience not necessary,” Simone murmured, wondering about this Harvey Eating House and its other requirements. She wasn’t yet the required age, but while she was small in stature, Simone figured she could easily pass for eighteen. Still, it would be a lie to say she met the standards when she didn’t. And she wasn’t all that sure she could convince anyone that she was “of good moral character, attractive and intelligent.” But she had to try. After all, it required no experience, and the pay seemed very good. It offered her room and board, plus it promised to place her somewhere in the West on the Santa Fe Railroad. She wasn’t at all familiar with where that might lead her, but it was at least worthy of consideration. Perhaps Mrs. Taylor would know something of this Harvey House matter.
ELEVEN
ELVIRA TAYLOR GREETED her with stilted reserve until Simone produced the letter of reference. The woman eyed the note for a moment, then studied Simone intently.
“You came in on the train with Grace, eh?”
Simone hadn’t realized her traveling companion’s name but nodded in affirmation. “She thought you might have a room I could rent.”
Mrs. Taylor nodded. “I have one room left. Ain’t much to look at, that’s for sure, but it’s warm and dry. It’ll cost you fifty cents a day. You got that kind of money?”
Simone nodded. “I’m not sure how long I’ll need it. I plan to apply for a job with the Harvey Eating House. Do you know anything about them?”
The woman’s face lit up. “Do I! My own daughter Rachel is housemother to a passel of Harvey Girls in Topeka, Kansas. They train ’em there, you know.”
Simone shook her head. “I really don’t know much at all about them. What is this Santa Fe Railroad, and where does it go?” she asked, glancing down at the advertisement.
“Oh, the Santa Fe is a line that goes south across Kansas and down along the south way of the nation. They go clear to California, on the edge of the ocean. ’Course, most of the stops are completely removed from civilization, and my Rachel says that some women would rather not find themselves stuck out there with nobody but railroad folk to talk to.”
“Doesn’t sound half bad to me,” Simone murmured, having no idea where these places might be.
“Well, you’ll have to clean up a sight better than this,” Elvira chided her. “You need to look your best when you go to the employment office. Do you have something nicer to wear?”
Simone looked down at her patched wool skirt. “No.”
“Well, if you have extra money, I’d suggest you go up the street to Handerman’s Used Clothing Store. They have some good bargains there, and the clothes are really nice. He takes in the stuff the well-todo folks get rid of.”
Simone nodded. “All right, I’ll do that. Whereabout is Eighteenth and Wentworth? That’s the address on this piece of paper.”
“I’ll draw you a bit of a map when you’re set to go. Right now let me show you the room. I require cash up front for at least a week’s stay.”
The train ticket had taken a good bit of her money, and Simone felt reluctant to part with yet another large amount. “Does that include meals?”
“Sure does,” Elvira said, grabbing up a key and motioning Simone to follow her upstairs. “Three meals a day and a hot bath. We’ve got electric lights and running water. That’s why I have to charge full price for rooms.”
Simone glanced up at the electric light at the top of the stairs. It fascinated her the way the thing illuminated the hall around them. There seemed to be so much more in this world than she had ever known back in Uniontown.
“Whereabouts you from?” Elvira asked as she paused to insert the key in a nearby door.
“Wyoming Territory,” Simone answered honestly, then thought better of it.
“Ain’t a territory no more. Leastwise, it won’t be. I read in the newspaper that they’re making it a state.” She reached to the wall and immediately the room was flooded in light.
Simone had no knowledge of this and even less understanding as to why it should matter. However, the light fascinated her.
“How did you make the lights come on?”
Elivira eyed her strangely, then showed her the workings of the switch before pointing out the rest of the room. “Like I said, it ain’t much.”
Simone noted the small iron bed and washbasin. At the foot of the bed was a small dresser, but otherwise the room was bare, a single tiny window offering the only view.
“Don’t use the light unless you have to. And turn it off if you leave the room,” Elvira told her. “I’ll take your money now.”
Simone counted out three dollars and fifty cents, then asked for directions to the clothing store. The way she saw it, there was no time to be lost on idleness.
The next morning Simone felt—and looked—like a new woman. She had taken a hot bath in Elvira’s thoroughly modern bathing room, then donned her new suit of blue serge. The suit and blouse had cost her plenty, and because of this, Simone had opted not to purchase shoes to go along with the outfit. She knew her moccasins were hardly considered proper, but she figured she could hide them well enough beneath her skirts. She had no plans to hire a carriage, so there would be no need to expose her feet as she climbed up to take a seat, and should she have to negotiate stairs, she would simply be mindful of her condition and take extra care.
Her hair worried her. She had seen the intricate and fascinating coiffures of the Chicago ladies at the train station. Here at Mrs. Taylor’s boardinghouse she was equally fascinated by the neat and tidy buns sported by her landlady and by the spinster schoolteacher who had the room next to hers. She tried to imitate what they had done but found it impossible, so she finally settled on braiding her clean ebony hair down the back.
Joining the others at breakfast, Simone was relieved to find only a portion of the group she’d dined with the night before. The spinster chattered on with Mrs. Taylor while an elderly gentleman Simone knew only as Mr. Zimmerman checked his pocket watch and downed his coffee.
“Are you off to apply for the Harvey House job?” Mrs. Taylor questioned. “You’ll make a good impression on them looking like that.” Simone felt her cheeks grow hot and concentrated on her breakfast while her landlady spoke in great praises of her daughter in Kansas. Hearing the woman speak with such love and pride about her child caused Simone’s heart to ache. Was this how people really lived? Were children really esteemed and counted as a blessing?
“I have a little map for you,” Elvira continued. “Drew it out myself last night.” She proudly displayed the piece of paper and handed it over to the schoolteacher, who readily approved her work.
“She should have no chance of getting lost with this. This is a fine job, Mrs. Taylor. I wish my students could do half so well.”
Mrs. Taylor relished the praise with a smiling nod. She placed the map beside Simone and pointed. “You can see that we are here. Wentworth is this street over here.”
Simone eyed the map carefully and nodded. The distance would be considerable, but it couldn’t be helped. Her only real concern was whether or not she’d be able to maintain her orderly appearance. Tucking the map away, Simone ate in silence, thinking about the ordeal to come and considering the snatches of conversation between Mrs. Taylor and the schoolteacher.
Once breakfast was completed, Simone stepped from the boardinghouse into a warm June morning. Again, the unending clamor of the city assaulted her. She was amazed to find such a large congregation of people, all in one place, seemingly interested in doing a hundred different things. Thinking of her mountain cabin and Uniontown, Simone shook her head. Folks back there would find Chicago an intrusive place that disrupts their peace of mind.
Taking out the map, Simone made her way down the street. Mrs. Taylor’s directions were easy to follow, and because the weather appeared so fine and mild, Simone found herself standing in front of the address before she knew it. Daintily climbing the stairs lest she reveal her moccasins, Simone opened the door of the establishment and walked in.
“May I help you?” a stern-faced matron questioned.
Simone nodded. “I’d like to apply for this position.” She took out the advertisement, now trimmed from the piece of newsprint, and offered it to the woman.
“You may set up an appointment,” the woman said, her serious expression never changing.
“An appointment?” Simone questioned. “What do I do, then?”
“You wait until we can see you,” the woman said rather haughtily. “Interviews are by appointment only.”
“But I had hoped to see someone today. I—”
“It simply isn’t done that way, miss.”
“Mrs. Blevins is a tough taskmaster,” a male voice called from behind Simone.
Turning, Simone found the owner of the voice leaning casually against the doorjamb. His eyes were a warm chocolate brown and seemed to be illuminated with pure amusement. His lips curled into a smile as he met Simone’s thorough study of him. “I’m Jeffery O’Donnell. I’m in charge here. Leastwise, when Mrs. Blevins allows me to be.”
The older woman grunted something inaudible as Jeffery clearly took over the situation.
“So to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I, uh …” Simone stammered, feeling quite nervous. “I came about the job with the Harvey Eating House.”
“They all do,” Jeffery replied. “That’s what I do here. I hire young women of good moral character to be Harvey Girls for Fred Harvey’s eating establishments. Would that one of them should just show up to see me for myself.”
“I told her she needed to make an appointment,” Mrs. Blevins added.
“Nonsense, Mrs. Blevins. We are rather desperate for help at the moment. I’ll see her without an appointment.” He extended his arm and motioned to Simone. “If you’ll step right this way.”
Simone heard the old woman clicking her tongue at his decision, but she refused to look back. She walked through the massive wood doorway and felt only slight discomfort when Jeffery closed it behind her.
“Have a seat there,” Jeffery pointed to one of two leather chairs positioned in front of his desk. “I’ll need to get information about your background. We thoroughly investigate our young ladies. Mr. Harvey wants only those of the highest character working for him.”
Simone felt a wave of nausea pass through her. She couldn’t help but think of Garvey Davis and wondered how Mr. Harvey would perceive a murderess as one of his employees. An extensive investigation would surely reveal her past, and that would surely put an end to any ideas she had of being a Harvey Girl.
“First of all, I need a name,” Jeffery said, looking up to meet her gaze. He smiled again and raised his eyebrows as if they were posing the question for him.
Simone instantly felt overwhelmed by his attentive interest. He didn’t leer at her like so many other men had, but rather, his expression was one that seemed a cross between delight and concern. She found herself drawn to him despite her resolve to care nothing for the people who crossed her path. His entire countenance suggested kindness and honesty, and he was clearly the handsomest man she’d ever seen. She let her gaze linger a moment longer on his face before finally replying, “My name is Simone.”
“What an unusual name,” he said, taking up a pen to write. “What’s your last name?”
Simone realized that she had painted herself into a corner. Folks in Uniontown knew her, and if the law came looking, they’d be seeking her under the name Simone Dumas. Glancing nervously around the room, she spied a book by Washington Irving.
“Irving. Simone Irving.”
“All right. Your age?”
“Eighteen,” Simone lied.
Jeffery continued writing, not in the least concerned as to whether or not she was telling the truth. “Where are you from?”
Simone felt hesitant. She didn’t know how to answer the man’s question. She certainly didn’t want to bring the authorities down on her head. “Chicago,” she finally managed to squeak out.
“Lived here long?” he questioned, returning her hesitant gaze with a smile.
“No,” Simone replied. “My parents died. I came here after that.”
Jeffery frowned. “I am sorry. What a terrible burden to put on the shoulders of one so young and beautiful.”
Simone lowered her head, feeling her cheeks flame with heat. This man’s words did something to disturb her sense of comfort. Either that or it was the lies she told him.
“I’m sorry to make you sad,” Jeffery continued. Simone instantly realized that he presumed her to be upset, maybe even crying. She took advantage of it and kept her head bowed. “Where did you grow up?” Jeffery asked.
Simone took a deep breath and sighed, hoping he would mistake it for a sign of grief. He did.
“I’m sorry. Perhaps you’d rather not talk about it, what with your folks and all.”
Simone nodded, still keeping her face from view.
“I completely understand. Look, we usually do a very detailed review of our employees, but the truth is, I need someone right away. In fact, I could use about ten someones, but I’ll start with you.”
“What kind of job are you offering?” Simone summoned the courage to meet his gaze.
Jeffery laughed. “I’m offering to make you a Harvey Girl. It’s one of the sweetest jobs you will ever know. Fred Harvey is quite a man. He came to this country from England, and after doing an odd assortment of jobs, he came up with the idea to run restaurants on the Santa Fe Railroad line. Of course, these aren’t just any restaurants. The Harvey House eating establishments have become internationally known for their fine cuisine, impeccable dining rooms, and friendly service.”
“And what would I do?”
“The Harvey Girls serve the meals and see to the customers’ needs. There’s basically only twenty to thirty minutes to serve the passengers from any given train. That isn’t a great deal of time, but Mr. Harvey has worked out a complicated yet effective system in which everyone’s meal is ready and awaiting their arrival.”
Simone tried to imagine it all, but having nothing to base it on, she merely nodded and waited for the man to continue.
“Can you begin work immediately? As in leave Chicago tomorrow morning?”
“Leave?” Simone questioned.
“Yes,” Jeffery replied. “The training is in Topeka, Kansas. It’s a lengthy trip, but by train the time passes rather quickly. The scenery is lovely this time of year with fertile green farmlands and quaint prairie towns. Topeka itself sits on the Kaw River. There isn’t as much boat traffic on the Kaw as you’ll see on the Missouri or the Mississippi Rivers, but it’s a busy town nevertheless.” He continued speaking as if Simone had asked him a bevy of questions. “There are several railroads who make Topeka their home. The Union Pacific is our biggest competition. They own a depot on the north side of the river, and their major route will take you straightway to Denver.”
“I see,” Simone replied, not fully understanding but unsure as to what else she should say.
“I don’t usually accompany the girls to Topeka, but it just so happens that I’m to make an employee inspection of the line and meet with Mr. Harvey. Hopefully, I’ll even get a chance to recruit a few more women for the job. But, that aside, I think it would only be right that I help you along your way. Especially given the fact that things are so hard on you just now.”
Simone swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. “That’s very kind of you. I can leave in the morning.”
Jeffery seemed quite pleased with this response and got to his feet. “Good. Then if you’ll give me your current address, I’ll pick you up at seven. Oh, and don’t worry about
bringing a lot of things with you. It isn’t allowed. You’ll be clothed and given items for grooming by the Harvey House. The less you bring, the less you have to ship back—” He paused, as if realizing Simone probably didn’t have any place to ship things back to. “Just bring the essentials.”
Simone gave a pretense of gathering her strength. She squared her shoulders, then got to her feet. “Thank you, Mr. O’Donnell. I appreciate that you would take a chance on me.”
“Not at all, Miss Irving. You seem the honest sort.”
Simone turned away to keep Jeffery from seeing the grimace that instantly marred her expression. I’m anything but honest, she thought, and it deeply grieved her to have deceived so nice a man.
“Seven o’clock sharp. Don’t forget,” he called after her.
“I won’t,” Simone assured him. “You can believe me on that.”
PART TWO
TWELVE
June 1890
AFTER A WEARYING RIDE on what Jeffery assured Simone was one of the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe’s finest passenger trains, Simone was grateful when the conductor at last called out the name “Topeka.” She’d hardly known a moment’s peace since their journey from Chicago had begun, and by this time she was questioning the sanity of her move. Jeffery O’Donnell, she discovered, was quite a force to be reckoned with. He insisted on being her personal chaperone whenever she wanted to move about the train, and when the locomotive made passenger stops, he had constantly been at her side offering her a brief walk or bite to eat. He also asked a lot of prying questions that made Simone very uncomfortable. She found herself continually having to lie or simply put him off, and it was beginning to wear on her nerves.
“Topeka is nowhere near as big as Chicago,” Mr. O’Donnell explained. “It’s a funny little town. Kind of a mix of other small towns with a strong twist of government thrown in just to make things interesting. Most of the folks living outside the city are farmers, and the rest tend to be in business for themselves. That is, unless they work for the Santa Fe.” Simone said nothing as he reached up to help her from the train. She shied away momentarily, then allowed his hand to close around hers. “And Topeka is thoroughly modern. They have telephones and electric lighting. Why, there are five electric plants just to keep the place supplied with electricity.”
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