A New Beginning

by Amelia C. Adams

  “My name’s Tom White, ma’am, and I’m the new stablehand. I’d like to make it perfectly clear that I’ve looked you square in the eye and realize that you bear no resemblance whatsoever to Beulah May Evans.”

  Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “All right,” she said slowly. “Thank you for that clarification.”

  “If you wouldn’t mind passing that along to Miss Martin, I’d appreciate it.”

  What . . .? “Consider it done.”

  “I’ll take your horse to the stable now, if you like.”

  “Yes, please. Thank you.”

  Elizabeth watched Tom lead Cleophas off to the stable, as perplexed as she’d ever been in her life.

  “There you are,” Harriet said, coming up behind her. “Did you meet Mr. White?”

  “I did, and he asked me to tell you that he knows I’m not someone named Beulah May . . . something or another. What on earth happened while I was gone?”

  “Nothing good, that’s for certain.” Harriet related the incident, concluding with, “And Mr. Brody seemed amused.”

  Elizabeth was a bit amused herself, but she wasn’t about to say that to her friend. Harriet needed another female to confide in, not another person to laugh at her circumstances. “I’m sure Mr. Brody will keep an eye on things. He’s a fair man, and I don’t believe he’s careless.”

  “I suppose you’re right, but I’ll have to watch myself around Mr. White. Who knows what fantastical idea will get in his head next.”

  “I’m sure it was an honest mistake and he’ll be on his best behavior from now on. Come on—let’s get back to work on those staff rooms. We made such good progress this morning, I’m sure we can finish them up this afternoon.”

  The room that had been designated for Miss Hampton was at the base of the stairs that led to the attic. Miss Hampton believed it was the perfect spot for her because she’d be near the female employees and could chaperone them, as well as be on hand should they need her. Elizabeth agreed that the placement and convenience of the room were ideal, but it seemed a rather small space for someone of Miss Hampton’s importance. There was just enough room for a simple bed and dresser. Miss Hampton, however, felt it was perfectly fine, so they had gotten it ready for her.

  “I believe we’re ready for whitewash now,” Elizabeth said, stepping back to survey their progress. “Chances are, we’ll need several applications. These cigar smoke stains on the walls never did come off.”

  Harriet scraped at one with her fingernail. “It’s a nasty habit. My future husband will not smoke cigars—if he does, I won’t consent to marry him.”

  “What if he takes up the habit after you’re married?” Elizabeth asked, knowing all too well about men who changed their character once they’d walked down the aisle.

  “He’d better not. That’s all I can say.”

  With their brushes in hand and buckets of whitewash at their feet, they proceeded to paint the walls. Elizabeth had been correct—the stains did show through the first application.

  “Now to let it set up,” Elizabeth said after they put on another coat. “This is the hardest part—the waiting. We can’t do much else to the room in the meantime.”

  Mr. Brody’s quarters were the next to be done. His room was located on the other side of the building, back behind the room he would use as his office. It, too, was small, but thankfully, it didn’t need as much work as the others. It only required a good wiping down.

  Mr. Brody was waiting for them in the office when they came out. “All done?” he asked.

  “All done except for a bed,” Elizabeth replied. “The only useable beds were placed in the attic and in Miss Hampton’s room.”

  “I was worried about that.” Mr. Brody exhaled, and Elizabeth realized what a toll this must be taking on him. “I do have some beds on order, and they should be arriving by train on Thursday. Dishes and serving utensils are also on their way, but things like drapes and sofas are still needed.”

  “What will we do about the sleeping arrangements?” Harriet asked. “Will we stay at Mrs. Dempsey’s until the other beds arrive?”

  “I imagine so. I can’t allow you and my aunt to stay here alone at night, not so close to the train tracks, and certainly not with the kinds of men I’ve seen around here lately.”

  Elizabeth nearly opened her mouth to tell Mr. Brody about the men in the woods, but she stopped herself. If she said something, he might forbid her to go home during the day, and Rose needed her. It was probably all a coincidence, anyway—surely the men hadn’t been waiting for her.

  “I suppose we could move a bed downstairs and then back up, but truth be told, the thought wears me out. I’d rather give Mrs. Dempsey a few more nights’ business than even consider all that rearranging.” He shook his head. “Ladies, I believe that’s all we’ll do for today. Let’s get some rest tonight and be back early in the morning.”

  Harriet and Elizabeth left the hotel at the same time. The boarding house was on Elizabeth’s way home, so they planned to walk together. As they stepped across the yard, they saw Tom White in the upper loft of the stable, using a pitchfork to throw moldy straw to the ground below.

  “I overheard Miss Hampton say he’d be making a room for himself up there,” Harriet said. “I’m so glad he won’t be sleeping under the hotel’s roof. I wouldn’t be able to close my eyes.”

  “I believe Tom White is a good sort,” Elizabeth said. “He might even grow on you after a time.”

  “Oh, he’ll grow on me, all right. Just like the mold on that straw.” The two girls laughed as they headed up the street.

  * * *

  When Elizabeth arrived at the hotel the next morning, she saw two young ladies sitting on the porch, dressed neatly in travelling clothes. “Hello,” she called out as she walked through the gate.

  “Hello,” one of them replied. “We’re here to see Mr. Brody.”

  Elizabeth paused and looked up at the building. It seemed awfully still. “He hasn’t arrived yet?”

  “No one replied when we knocked,” the other girl explained.

  “How odd. He’s usually the first one here.” Elizabeth stepped to the door and tried the knob, but it was locked. “I’ll join you, then.” She sat down between them on the porch stairs. “I’m Elizabeth Caldwell, and I’ve worked here just a few days now.”

  “I’m Abigail Peterson, and this is my younger sister, Jeanette,” said the girl on the right. She was a tall girl, perhaps a bit taller than was considered fashionable, but Elizabeth liked her immediately. Jeanette was just a slightly shorter version of her sister, wearing a blue dress in the same style as Abigail’s pink. “We were on the train, picked up a newspaper at the station, and saw the advertisement. We decided that since we were already right here, we might as well inquire. Are all the positions filled?”

  “No, I believe Mr. Brody would like to hire four more girls. We have such a lot of work to do before we can open for business.” Elizabeth shifted a little to face Abigail directly, as she seemed to be the more talkative one. “You came in on the train, you say? What brings you to Topeka?”

  “Our uncle lives on the Colorado border, and he invited us to come live with him when our parents died last month,” Abigail said. “He’s not a kind man, though, and we dreaded going. If we were able to stay here and earn our keep, I believe we’d be much happier than we would be with him.”

  “If Mr. Brody says no, though, we’ll be on our way,” Jeanette chimed in. “We don’t mean to be a burden—that’s why we’d like to work.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear about your parents,” Elizabeth said. “They both passed at the same time?”

  “Yes,” Abigail said. “It was awful—the wagon they were riding in overturned and went down a steep gully.” Her voice trembled a little, and Jeanette put her arms around her shoulders.

  “Oh, that is awful.” Elizabeth’s heart went out to these girls, who couldn’t be more than eighteen years old. She guessed Jeanette to be closer to sixtee
n.

  Miss Hampton bustled up the walk just then, her skirts swishing against the fence as she passed through the gate. “I have the key,” she announced, and the girls stood to let her through to the door. She unlocked it, then turned to face them. “I’m terribly sorry I’m late. Mr. Brody is meeting with the station manager about our shipment from New York, and he got held up. But he’s given me instructions and his full confidence, so we’ll be fine. Miss Martin will be here in a moment with some teacakes sent by our landlady, Mrs. Dempsey, so hopefully, we’ll have a cheerful and productive morning after all, even with the late start.” She turned her attention to the newcomers. “I’m Caroline Hampton. Welcome to the Brody Hotel. You are?”

  Each sister introduced herself in turn, and Miss Hampton nodded. “I see no reason why we shouldn’t give you a try. My nephew is open to taking on whatever new applicants might come along, and you certainly look like bright, respectful girls. Please come in, and I’ll ask Miss Caldwell to show you around.”

  Abigail and Jeanette each picked up a satchel from the porch and followed Miss Hampton inside. Elizabeth led them to the attic first so they could store their things—thankfully, the whitewash in this area was dry and wouldn’t rub off if they brushed against it. She tried to pay attention to their questions and answer appropriately, but all she could think about was Mr. Brody. It was odd, him not being here, and she missed him. The realization surprised her. They’d never even had a real conversation—she knew next to nothing about him. But knowing he wasn’t there created an ache in her middle that she just wished would go away.

  After the two sisters had changed into work dresses, she showed them Miss Hampton’s quarters, the guest rooms, and then led them downstairs to the dining room, parlor, office, and kitchen.

  “This is a very nice place,” Jeanette said. “I can see that you’ve done quite a lot of work here already.”

  “We have, and there’s still a bit to go. Miss Hampton and Mr. Brody are good employers, though, and they don’t require more work than we can reasonably do.” Elizabeth peeked into the hallway, wondering where Miss Hampton had gone. After a moment of searching, she found her outside in the yard, talking to Tom White.

  “There’s the old caretaker’s cottage out back that still needs work, and I wonder about that smokehouse,” Mr. White was saying as Elizabeth approached. “The fences are all repaired, and I’ve nearly finished with the stable.”

  “Excellent work, Mr. White,” Miss Hampton told him.

  “You’d best be calling me Tom,” he said with a grin. “If we have a fire or some other such emergency, we won’t have time for all this polite name business, and we might as well get used to it now. Oh, hello, Miss Caldwell.”

  Elizabeth smiled. She knew Harriet couldn’t stand Tom, but she found him rather endearing, actually, sort of like a young colt with knobby knees. “Hello, Tom. You must call me Elizabeth. For fire safety reasons, of course.”

  He gave her a crooked grin, and she turned to Miss Hampton. “What would you like us to start on, Miss Hampton?” She would not be calling this lady “Caroline” any time soon.

  “Did you do anything in the office yet?”

  “No, but we did finish Mr. Brody’s quarters behind it.”

  Miss Hampton nodded. “Please clean the office and then finish up in the dining room. I do believe we’ll soon see the light at the end of the tunnel.”

  “I did have another question, if you don’t mind.” She twisted her hands, wondering if she even had a right to make the suggestion. “There are now three maids needing a place to stay, and it seems very inconvenient that no one can sleep in the hotel as of yet. Is there a way we could arrange things differently—I’d be more than happy to show Abigail and Jeanette the way to Mrs. Dempsey’s, but it seems . . .” Her voice faltered. She wasn’t in charge here. It wasn’t her place to tell her employers how to conduct their business.

  “I’ve been thinking along those same lines,” Miss Hampton said. “Tom, would you be willing to bring your pallet into the hotel and sleep in Mr. Brody’s quarters until his bed arrives? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind sleeping on the floor under ordinary circumstances, but he had a back injury last year, and I don’t think he should.”

  “Of course I don’t mind,” Tom said. “The floor’s the only place for me—you put me on a bed with all that fluff and stuff, and I can’t sleep a wink. I’ll bring my Colt, too—a little extra protection.”

  “Excellent. Miss Martin and I will bring our things over from Mrs. Dempsey’s this afternoon, and I'll tell my nephew of our new arrangement. Thank you for the suggestion, Miss Caldwell.”

  Elizabeth gave a slight bob and headed back toward the house, hearing Miss Hampton give Tom his orders for the day as well. She didn’t envy him—he’d be watering and cutting the grass, and she knew that was back-breaking work. At least the lawn was still patchy and not thick and lush, like it was in the eastern states.

  She and the two Peterson girls had just finished up in the office when Harriet came in, carrying a large picnic basket. “Mrs. Dempsey insisted on sending over an entire lunch, and she also insisted that I help her make it. I’m sorry I’m so late getting here, but I believe the food will make up for it.” She set the basket down on the floor and then looked up, seeming to notice the sisters for the first time. “Oh, hello. Are you new?”

  The girls introduced themselves, and Harriet welcomed them each with a cookie. Then she glanced out the window. “My, Miss Hampton seems to be feeling very serious this morning.”

  Elizabeth joined her at the window to see what she was talking about. Miss Hampton had cornered Mr. Brody just inside the front gate and was gesturing up toward the hotel, most likely telling him of the new sleeping arrangements. Elizabeth’s heart raced when she saw him. He wore a suitcoat that morning, most likely to look nice for his meeting with the station manager, and she had always liked a man in a suitcoat. But really, she shouldn’t be thinking this way. She should stop it immediately. Why wasn’t she listening to herself?

  “I wonder what they’re talking about,” Harriet mused.

  “I might know,” Elizabeth said, turning away from the window. She wasn’t sure how to tell Harriet this, but decided it might be best coming from her than someone else. “You and Miss Hampton are going to move into your new quarters at the hotel tonight, along with Abigail and Jeanette. Won’t it be nice to get settled in?”

  Harriet fixed her with a look. “Your voice is a little too bright, Elizabeth. What are you hiding?”

  “I’m not hiding anything,” Elizabeth said, not meeting the other girl’s eye. She glanced over at Abigail and Jeanette, who were watching curiously. She supposed they must be wondering what on earth was going on. “Tom will stay in Mr. Brody’s room and keep an eye on things until Mr. Brody can move in.” She spoke very quickly, hoping Harriet wouldn’t actually hear what she’d said.

  But Harriet’s cheeks turned as red as her hair, and she inhaled sharply. “I don’t think he’s the proper protection for us,” she said, her words measured. She glanced over at the Peterson sisters and then lowered her voice as she leaned toward Elizabeth. “He grabbed me by the water pump, if you’ll recall.”

  “I do recall, and I can’t help but wonder what the water pump has to do with it. If he’d grabbed you anywhere else, would you still be this upset?” Elizabeth whispered back.

  Harriet’s lips twitched into a smile. “Silly girl, the pump is not at fault here. It’s entirely Mr. White’s responsibility, and I think he should be kept as far away from the main building as possible. Yes, he apologized, and I do remember that, but the fact is, he’s a little too eager with his arms and his lips, and I don’t think we need that type of person around in the night.”

  Elizabeth heard steps on the porch, and then Mr. Brody and Miss Hampton entered.

  “Oh, good. Lunch is here. Let’s take a break and eat,” Miss Hampton said.

  Mr. Brody’s eyes flicked around the room until they settled
on Elizabeth. She could have been imagining it, but it seemed that his gaze became warmer when he looked at her. “How is your mother today, Miss Caldwell?”

  “She’s doing well, thank you, sir.”

  “Please give her my best.” Too soon, he looked away, and spoke to the Peterson sisters.

  “Well now, that’s an interesting development,” Harriet whispered in Elizabeth’s ear.

  “Hmm? What do you mean?” Elizabeth asked, her cheeks flaming.

  “You know perfectly well what I mean. But before we discuss it, I need to find the right opportunity to speak with Miss Hampton about a certain handyman.”

  Harriet got her chance as they cleaned up lunch. “Miss Hampton, might I have a word?”

  “Of course.” She stepped off to the side with Harriet, who motioned frantically for Elizabeth to join them. Elizabeth hoped Miss Hampton wouldn’t mention that this whole thing had been her idea—that would make things even more awkward.

  Miss Hampton listened to Harriet’s concerns without saying anything. She simply waited until the girl had run out of steam and then said, “Did you notice the location of my bedroom, Miss Martin?”

  “I did. It’s at the base of the stairs.”

  “It might also interest you to know that I sleep with a Colt in my nightstand drawer, and I’m a crack shot. Anyone desiring to get to you would have to go through me, and I guarantee you, I’d make it very difficult for them.”

  Harriet’s mouth dropped open, and Elizabeth consciously fought to keep hers from doing the same.

  Miss Hampton laughed. “No need to be so shocked, ladies. I’ve lived a very full and interesting life, and there’s much more to me than you might believe.”

  “How did you learn to shoot?” Elizabeth asked, finding her voice at last.