A Shelter of Hope

by Tracie Peterson

  Rachel Taylor seemed genuinely thankful, and it gave Simone a sense of worth and value that she couldn’t remember ever having felt before. No one had ever praised her in such a manner. She felt awkward and uncertain as to what she should say.

  “I’ll be happy to help in whatever way I can,” she finally told Rachel. “Just tell me what you need from me.”

  “I need you to sign that contract,” Rachel said with a laugh. “I don’t want there to be any chance of you getting away from us.”

  “I don’t intend to leave,” Simone replied. And within her heart she thought perhaps she might never want to leave. Someone actually valued her for the help she could give. It created an entirely new sensation of feelings inside her. Dipping the pen in the ink, Simone put the paper on Rachel’s desk and began to sign her name.

  “Nine months is a long time,” Jeffery whispered under his breath.

  Simone smiled to herself. After what she’d spent a lifetime enduring, nine months didn’t sound like much time at all. In fact, nine months sounded like just the right amount of time to polish off the rough edges of her isolated childhood and establish herself as a refined and well-bred lady.

  THIRTEEN

  JEFFERY O’DONNELL checked his watch and realized he only had another half hour before the southbound was due in. He finished going over Rachel Taylor’s employee records and jotted down several bits of information before blotting the ink and closing the book. He stretched and felt twinges of pain in his shoulders—ample payback for his long hours bent over the desk.

  He’d hardly managed to see Simone since their arrival in Topeka two days earlier. When he had seen her she was intently listening to the instructions of a dark-haired woman whom Jeffery knew to be the head waitress. And from what Miss Taylor had told him, Simone was one of her quickest and brightest students.

  But she was also a mystery. Jeffery had little to go on for her background information, and even though he’d given Miss Taylor company funds to telegraph her mother for further details on Simone’s history, Rachel had come up empty-handed. Mrs. Taylor knew little more than they did. It appeared that her friend Grace had ridden with Simone on the train from Cheyenne to Chicago. Grace, however, had no idea how long the girl had been on the train prior to that, but Elvira Taylor confided that Simone was more than a little worn from her ordeal. Her appearance had been frightfully unkempt, and she was so pale that Mrs. Taylor had feared her to be diseased in some manner.

  Jeffery shook his head. Who was Simone Irving? For all intents and purposes it was as if she had dropped into the real world from out of nowhere. He thought of her haunting face, the deep set of her blue eyes, and the soft ebony hair that cascaded down her back and begged his touch. She had appeared a petite, delicate flower when she’d first graced his doorstep, but the Harvey uniform made her look even smaller, maybe even younger, and that, too, was a worry to him. Harvey Girls applicants often found it necessary to lie about their ages. After all, many of the women came to him out of sheer necessity. There weren’t many honorable jobs for women in the 1890s. They could teach, be a nursemaid or nanny, or put their time in at one factory or another, but even those jobs were limited. Just last year Jeffery had met a woman physician who wanted to work on the Santa Fe line. The superintendent had put an end to that idea, even though the woman came highly recommended and was willing to relocate to the farthest reaches on the line. There simply were limited places where women could find acceptance and respect.

  Women of Simone’s beauty usually married young and were well on their way to motherhood by the time there was any need to consider earning a living. They passed from their father’s care to positions as social matrons with husbands and children of their own. Simone had admitted to coming in from the Wyoming Territory, a place where women were sure to be at a premium, but still she remained single. Perhaps her parents were very protective, and when they died, Simone had no one on which to rely. She appeared, like many others, to have fallen on hard times.

  Once again, Jeffery felt the overwhelming urge to find Simone. He longed to know her full story. To hear from her own lips what had happened to bring such misery upon her. He laughed at himself for acting so out of character. His own stoic mother would find his behavior uncalled for. She had raised him to be socially acceptable and gainfully employed. She also had in mind the kind of woman he needed for a wife. A woman of Simone’s meager background wouldn’t qualify to act as a chambermaid in the O’Donnell lakeside home in Chicago, much less as a suitable mate for her son.

  But Jeffery’s real dilemma came in the circumstances of Simone’s employment. He was responsible for the women he employed and answerable to Fred Harvey for the choices he made. He also knew that it was expected that he know the detailed background of each girl hired, and up until he’d accepted Simone for employment, he had. If Mr. Harvey found him shirking his responsibility in keeping track of the moral character of his Harvey Girls, Jeffery knew there would be consequences to face.

  Getting to his feet, Jeffery shook the lint from his brown serge coat and straightened his tie. He intended to find Simone and at least speak to her for a moment. Given the busyness of the Harvey House a half hour before the train arrival, Jeffery knew he was expecting a lot, but nevertheless, it was business. He needed more information on her for his investigation. At least that’s what he told himself.

  The dining room down the hall was bustling with Harvey Girls. He smiled when he saw Rachel pick up a china plate for inspection, then shake her head. Fred Harvey had declared that even the slightest chip or crack would render the plate unusable for Harvey Eating Establishments. This was also true of torn linen, whether it be the tablecloths or the oversized napkins that the restaurant had become known for. Fred Harvey would hear of nothing but the best for his businesses, and even the furniture had been imported to meet this high standard. It was part of the allure of the Harvey House.

  Not finding Simone among the uniformed trainees, Jeffery made his way across the dining room and into the kitchen. The interpreter had still not arrived to assist the chef, and it seemed logical that Simone might be here among the cooks, bakers, and food preparation staff.

  The aroma of Monsieur Flaubert’s succulent pork roast greeted Jeffery. Flaubert was a genius in the kitchen, and Jeffery had made it his business to try most everything the man had created. As usual, Fred Harvey’s choice of chefs was to be applauded.

  Jeffery nodded approvingly at the action inside the busy kitchen. Various preparation staff bustled up and down the extended counter, where salads were being given the final touches before the passengers’ arrival. Jeffery leaned down and pretended to inspect the salad nearest him. Lush avocado quarters, fresh from California, lay on a bed of lettuce with brilliant red tomato wedges as garnish for effect. It appeared both artistically aesthetic and appetizing. He smiled his approval to a nearby worker, then looked beyond the counter for some sign of Simone.

  She stood with her back to him, completely engrossed in the rapidfire French conversation of Monsieur Flaubert. Moving closer, Jeffery heard her timid response grow more intent, and while he had no idea what they might be discussing, he felt confident that Simone’s words were in contrast to the opinion of the older gentleman.

  “Simone?”

  She jumped, startled by his unknown presence. Turning to face him, Jeffery saw an edge of fearfulness in her eyes. Why did she always look as though she’d just been caught in the act of some heinous crime?

  “You were looking for me?”

  Jeffery nodded. “I’d like very much to speak with you for a moment. You see, I’m catching the southbound after dinner, and there won’t be another chance for us to talk for a couple of weeks. I have to go south on the line and inspect the houses on the way.”

  “I see,” Simone said, lowering her gaze to the floor. “What did you need to speak to me about?”

  “For one, you might tell me what the overly excitable Monsieur Flaubert is complaining about this time,
” Jeffery began, hoping to ease her discomfort. For all the time they had spent together, Simone Irving still remained as skittish as one of his father’s high-spirited Arabian stallions.

  “Oh, he …” She paused to look over to where Henri Flaubert had turned his attention back to an oven full of baked veal pies. Simone twisted her hands nervously and glanced back to Jeffery. “It’s nothing, really.”

  “If it’s nothing,” he said with a grin, “then why not tell me?”

  “He doesn’t care for Topeka,” she replied. “He says it’s too backward, and their regular opera singers screech like cats with their necks being wrung.”

  Jeffery laughed out loud at this. “Tell him I wholeheartedly agree, and I admire his ability to make a journey to the opera so soon after his arrival in Topeka.”

  Simone’s lips curled upward ever so slightly, and Jeffery relished the sight. A smile from Simone was quite rare indeed, but when she looked as she did just now, with a hint of amusement in her expression, she was incredibly beautiful.

  Simone tapped the chef on the shoulder and rattled off an exchange of words to which the older man glanced over at Jeffery and burst out laughing. He acknowledged Jeffery’s words with a nod before catching sight of some employee offense that set him off in raised tones of anger.

  “Now what?” Jeffery asked as he watched Flaubert move to one of the other stoves.

  “The Bordelaise sauce,” Simone answered simply. “He’s protesting that the assistant cook has put in the wrong kind of wine.”

  “What’s the sauce used for?” Jeffery questioned. Flaubert was in rare form, flailing the ladle and bellowing at the top of his lungs.

  “It’s for the Beef Steak Frascati, and Henri says it is ruined and will have to be thrown out.” About that time, Henri picked up the pot and headed for the back door. Simone shrugged. “He knows what he’s talking about. I’ve never tasted anything like the food he prepares.”

  “So you were used to simpler fare, eh?” Jeffery said, hoping the conversation would lead to more details.

  “Very simple fare indeed.”

  When she said nothing more, Jeffery checked his watch. “We still have a few minutes and there are some questions I have to ask you. Mr. Harvey will expect me to conduct a thorough investigation of you.” At this, he saw the color drain from her face, and even though the kitchen temperature was overwhelmingly warm, Simone trembled as if suddenly chilled.

  Jeffery took hold of her arm and led her from the kitchen back into the dining room. Pulling her to one corner, he continued to grasp her arm. “Simone, are you feeling ill?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t know what you need to know, but there isn’t much to tell.”

  “I could use some references. You know, folks I could notify and question concerning your character.”

  “There’s no one,” Simone said seriously. “We lived too far into the mountains. There was no one else. Just my father and mother, and now they’re dead.”

  “Surely someone can vouch for your character.”

  She bit at her lip and shook her head. “No, there’s no one. If you have to fire me, I understand, but I can’t tell you anything more. I lived in the Wyoming Territory, and I’m not even sure what part I came from.”

  Jeffery felt an uneasiness about her declaration. Surely it wasn’t possible in this day and age of modern conveniences and improved transportation for a young woman to be so clearly uncertain as to where she grew up. It also seemed highly unlikely that no one could vouch one way or the other for her character. Still, she appeared to be well-mannered and intelligent, although Miss Taylor had spoken of her lack of knowledge when it came to many of the things other girls took for granted. She maintained a fascination with indoor plumbing and electric lighting, and Rachel had told of Simone being completely intrigued by a sewing machine stationed in one of the upstairs rooms.

  These things, added to what bits and pieces Jeffery had been able to gather from his earlier conversations with Simone, seemed to point to a very secluded existence.

  “Simone, you needn’t allow this to upset you. I have no intention of firing you. I simply have a job to do, and investigating all of our girls is a part of that job. Mr. Harvey will expect me to account for each one of you.”

  She nodded. “I understand, but—” Just then the sound of the train whistle could be heard. “One-mile warning!” someone called out, and Simone pulled away from Jeffery.

  “I have to get to work.”

  “I understand,” he said, watching her hurry off to join her Harvey sisters in carrying salads to the tables.

  “Well,” he chided himself, “you’re no better off now than when you started.”

  He took a seat at the table just as the dinner gong sounded. Once again the rush of patrons and staff overwhelmed the once quiet little dining room. His table quickly filled up with other men. Some were well dressed and obviously from a more refined background, while several were clearly cowboys, no doubt bound for the western ranches along the line. One thing marked them as alike, however, and that was the fact that each man wore a suit coat either from his own wardrobe or from Fred Harvey’s supply of dark alpaca coats. No man was allowed to dine in the Harvey House without a coat because Mr. Harvey insisted that this small bit of civilization was necessary to have a companionable and refined dinner. He had also confided that men tended to be less inclined to fight when wearing their Sunday best—or someone else’s Sunday best, for that matter.

  Simone approached their table warily and questioned each man about their choice of drinks. Many asked for liquor, which wasn’t on the menu. Even if it had been, Kansas was an adamantly dry state, at least on paper. They settled for coffee when Simone made it clear that beer and whiskey weren’t an option. Jeffery watched her work in the dining hall and felt good about his choice to hire her. He might know next to nothing about her background, but her ability to learn and the quiet manner in which she conducted herself spoke for itself.

  “Now, she’s sure a looker,” one man told his traveling companion.

  “You’re tellin’ me. Old man Harvey knows how to pick ’em. Even if he does dress ’em like nuns.”

  “Say, darlin’, wouldn’t you like to marry me and go west?”

  Simone ignored their teasing, and only once, when a man reached out to touch her, did she flinch and act the slightest bit disturbed. Jeffery said nothing, but the scene only confirmed his earlier thoughts that Simone would most likely not fulfill her full nine-month contract. Her features bordered on angelic, and her figure, even hidden in the black shirtwaist gown and high-necked white apron, made most of the men at his table sit up and take notice.

  Before he knew it, the fifteen-minute warning sounded. Jeffery finished off his pie and coffee and excused himself from his remaining dining companions. He retrieved his papers and satchel, and by the time he’d returned to the dining room, most of the passengers had made their way back to the train.

  With his brown derby in hand, Jeffery approached Simone as he headed for the door. “You did a good job, Simone. You’re a quick learner.”

  She looked away from him and stared at the floor. Flattery apparently made her uncomfortable, but for the life of him Jeffery couldn’t figure out why. Most women enjoyed hearing they looked pretty or had done a good job, but not Simone. It only seemed to create an air of tension between them.

  “I’m still willing to bet you break that contract,” he said, deciding that teasing her was the only way to lighten the moment.

  At this, Simone lifted her face to meet his gaze. “What are you willing to bet?”

  He looked deep into eyes so dark and blue that they almost appeared black. Her beauty seemed to heighten with each passing day, yet Simone clearly had no confidence in her looks. Had no one ever told her she was pretty? Had no one ever courted and wooed her in hopes of winning her hand? Jeffery found this so hard to believe that he happily threw out the challenge. “I’ll bet a month’s wor
th of pay that you marry before the contract is up.”

  “Seventeen dollars and fifty cents?” Simone questioned, her face contorting anxiously in consideration of his announcement.

  “Precisely. If you marry before your contract is up, you will pay me exactly that amount. If you manage to hold out, which I don’t think will happen,” he said with a teasing grin, “then I will pay you a month’s salary. What do you say?”

  Simone seemed to think on the matter for several moments, and it wasn’t until the conductor came into the dining hall to make sure all passengers for the southbound were on board that Simone nodded.

  “I’ll take your challenge, Mr. O’Donnell,” she said softly. “But you’ll lose.”

  “Will I?” he said, grinning as he stepped outside and popped the derby on his head. “I suppose only time will tell.”

  FOURTEEN

  LOUIS DUMAS SMILED at the ticket agent and nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like my daughter. Could you by any chance remember where she was headed?”

  The man scratched his head for a moment. “Seems she was headed to Chicago. I remember her saying that someone had told her about Chicago. She was short on the price of a ticket, but I suggested that she sell the horse she rode up on.”

  “I guessed it might be somethin’ like that. I just talked to the liveryman and learned that he had her horse and gear,” Louis replied. “So then she returned here and headed out for Chicago?”

  “As best I can remember,” the man replied. “She came back on foot with the price of the ticket in hand. She bought her ticket, but I can’t say that I know for sure that she got on board the train. Doesn’t seem likely she wouldn’t, though. Not after having spent the money and all. Still, even if she got on the train, ain’t no guarantee she stayed on it.”