The Sailor and The Shrew

by Laura Stapleton

  She chuckled before leaning back to look at him. “You’re right. There is something more. It’s not those horrible boys’ faults, much.” She let her hands fall from him, adding, “Nothing you can fix, or I’d let you.”

  Her smallish nose seemed charming even now, a little red from crying as she dried her face with her apron. He regretted leaving his handkerchief in his room instead of having it here for her. Matilda’s tears left him unwilling to do anything else but cheer her up again. He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “That’s too bad because I’d like to help with whatever you’d need.”

  After a shuffle at the door, Bert dropped his hand fast. Sam peeked in, barely leaning into view. He didn’t meet either of their gaze’s, saying, “Hey, Bert. We need your help for a bunch of new arrivals.” He held up a hand. “Sorry if I’m interrupting anything.”

  Matilda shoved Bert away hard. Her strength caught him off guard, making him stumble back a few steps. For such a slender gal, she sure could shove a guy around. He grinned, almost liking her getting physical with him.

  “You’re not,” she said. “Nothing was interrupted. Nothing. Shame on you for thinking so.” She stared at Bert first, then Sam. “In fact, shame on both of you for being so lazy on Mr. Bromley’s dime.”

  Bert stood in shock at how such a warm, sweet woman could turn so cold in a flash. “Us? You were in here pack—”

  “Out!” She stomped her foot, pointing toward the hallway. “Out, before I really lose my temper, both of you.”

  Her sudden anger fueled his own despite his efforts to remain calm. He didn’t blame her for throwing them both out of her room. A lady had a right to her privacy. But he’d not allow her free to call him lazy. “Fine. We’re gone.” He shoved past Sam without caring if the other stable hand followed him. By the time he’d reached the bottom, his stomping downstairs then out of the hotel altogether syphoned off some of his fury. The door slammed as he left, before slamming again. Bert looked back to find the younger man had trailed behind him after all. He glared at Sam. “Nothing happened up there, got it?”

  Sam shrugged at first, continuing on with a grin. “Fine, whatever you say, stud.”

  Bert wanted to shake the younger man by his collar until he agreed nothing happened. Instead, he followed him to the courtyard. A covered wagon sat in the middle of the courtyard as a couple of the stable hands offloaded the boxes inside. Bert joined in, lifting a wooden box with a particularly clean smell. The floral notes reminded him of Matilda’s scent, fancy like roses mixed with springtime flowers. Asa had mentioned they had access to whatever they needed, courtesy of Mr. Bromley, so he planned to take the owner up on his offer soon. It’d only been a few days since his last dunking, so there was no need to invite a sickness from bathing too often.

  He lifted one of the boxes. The bulky wooden container didn’t have handles, so he perched the box on his shoulder. Following Shep into the hotel’s storeroom, Bert stacked his load next to the other man’s. Conversation from the other men flowed around him as he hurried back for another box to stack. He almost wanted to slow his pace toward the wagon, listen if someone mentioned him with Matilda in her room. But, Bert figured they’d gossip about the indiscretion as soon as he was out of earshot. He regretted his impulse to comfort her since all the gesture would do is hurt her reputation.

  However, he couldn’t regret the act of holding her. Matilda’s warmth as she snuggled into him lingered in his memory. She seemed so capable, yet vulnerable as she clung to him. He wiped sweat from his forehead, taking a quick break before continuing to help unload the wagon. The other three men joked around with each other but thinking about Matilda’s touch appealed more to him.

  As the supply wagon continued on to its next stop, the others ambled off toward the hotel. Bert’s stomach let him know he’d missed dinner by rumbling. He headed for the kitchen, wiping his dusty hands on his pants along the way. Hopefully, the cooks had something left over for him. Stew was scraping grease from a large frying pan as Bert stepped up to the stove. “I don’t suppose there’s something left for me?”

  “Sure there is.” The burly man took a plate from a high shelf. “Here ya go.” He set the dish of meat mixed with fried potatoes in front of Bert. “There might be a few others still eating in there. Bring your plate back when you’re done so the ladies don’t have to.”

  “Thank you.” He took the plate, trying to resist the urge to eat before having a seat in the dining room. The women—Matilda, Janie, Mary, Sarah, dined at a table with Dean. Larry, Sam sat by themselves. He wanted to sit with the women, but as he approached, even Dean frowned at him along with the ladies. Not a good sign at all.

  Remorse over the battle lines hit him as he paused for a couple of seconds. The two men didn’t glare at him like the women did. He ambled over to them, unable to keep from stealing glances at Matilda. She gave him furtive looks, too, before angling her body slightly away from him. At the men’s table, Bert tapped a free chair. “Mind if I join you?”

  They glanced over at Matilda, who continued to ignore them before Larry shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

  As soon as Bert settled in, Matilda stood. She left without a word, her plate still somewhat full of food. Larry nudged him. “Don’t worry about her. She’ll get over it. She always gets into a tiff then forgets about it.”

  Sam snorted. “She’s probably madder he didn’t kiss her when he had the chance.”

  Bert put his fork on the table. Everything he’d learned about Matilda indicated she was a fine lady, if a little quick to frown. The duo maligned her unnecessarily. No wonder she avoided a friendship with the men here. All of them were too quick to think the worst of her. He couldn’t let this stand. “Excuse me?”

  “Yeah.” Sam leaned back in his chair. “When a girl invites you to her room, you kiss her, or she gets angry with the rest of us.”

  Larry snickered. “You’ve never kissed a woman, I reckon.”

  “I have,” Sam countered. “Plenty of times.”

  Bert needed to kill the rumor, or it’d never die. “Look, both of you. Matilda did not invite me to her room. I walked in on my own accord, so your misunderstanding is my fault, not hers. Furthermore, just because a woman is in a room with a man, it doesn’t mean she wants to be kissed or anything else.” The unconvinced expressions on their face spurred him on. “The door was open. We had nothing at all to hide. We work in the same hotel. Nothing more. I’d appreciate if you’d stop comparing her to an animal in need of taming. Got it?”

  Sam exchanged a glance with Larry. Finally, Sam said, “Any woman who lets a man into a room alone with her deserves whatever she gets.”

  Chapter Seven

  Bert’s fingernails dug into his hand as he gripped his fork. “Like I said before, Matilda is a fine lady. I walked in on my own accord. Besides, nothing happened in her room other than her crying over your meanness. I searched for her to offer her an apology, found her in her bedroom is all. I’d appreciate you keeping your rude opinions about our actions to yourself or we’ll have to step outside. Understand?”

  Larry laughed. “Yeah? Tell the others. Maybe they’ll believe you, but I don’t. Not when you’ve been out to sea for so long without a woman.” He leaned forward. “Yeah, we know all about you shanghaied sailors the Reverend brings around. The older you all are, the more you drag the servers off for a ride.”

  After a glance at the now quiet table of ladies, Bert looked back at Larry. “Maybe so, but that’s not who I am.” Disgusted by the crude bellhop, he stood, too irritated to keep from doing something he’d regret later. “I’m done here.” Before anyone could say anything, he left for the now empty kitchen. He took one last bite before placing his plate on the countertop. Thoroughly finished with the others for the night, he hurried out of the back.

  The stable door was open. The horses shuffled in their stalls, settling in for the night. Dust from the newly thrown hay hovered in the early evening air. Voices floated out to whe
re he stood, letting him know most of the stable hands along with the other two bellboys were playing card games in the back. Bert put his hands in his pockets, reluctant to join in the fun. They’d tease him, or worse, say bad things about Matilda like his dinner companions had done. A prickly heat of anger swept him. He might need some time before wanting to talk with either Sam or Larry again. A mind-calming walk was what he needed, so he headed to the front of the hotel to the quiet street.

  Cheyenne’s roads weren’t as crowded in the early evening as they were during the day. He strolled past the dark, closed shops. A saloon’s lights spilled out through the windows to light up the path in front. Part of him wanted to go in to be among strangers instead of so-called friends. He liked the idea of no one knowing or hassling him. But then, he’d be in a crowded, smoky place reeking of booze. After his time on the Black Heart, he was done with that sort of life.

  He kept going, not caring where the street took him. If even a saloon full of whiskey with dancing girls didn’t appeal to him, what would? He mulled over his idea of wants verses needs for a couple of minutes before reaching a conclusion. Not much more than what he had now. A good job, his own place to sleep, steady food, maybe a romance with someone like Matilda? He shook his head. Probably not her specifically, except as an acquaintance only.

  The sun hovered just above the horizon, threatening to let the city go dark. Colors reflecting from the high clouds cast a glow over the surrounding town. Unable to get the feeling of Matilda crying in his arms out of his mind, he needed to go back to talk with her. Make sure she understood he hadn’t planned on causing so much fuss. His footsteps echoed as he ambled to the hotel. Alone, without having anything pressing to do, how she’d felt in his arms teased Bert, leaving him wanting more. She’d seemed so strong until she hugged to him, weeping. He hadn’t realized how small or vulnerable she was until then. The other men had her all wrong. She wasn’t mean to them because she was mean. Otherwise, he’d have found her doing anything but crying alone this afternoon. Plus, the way she’d clung to him as if needing his comfort? All he could figure was something about him must have let her lower her guard.

  Bert moseyed past the saloon again, smiling at the thought of Matilda trusting him. They were little more than strangers, yet he liked her. The other girls working at the hotel were nice, too. He could see why the other men were sweet on the various women there, but they weren’t Matilda. A couple of the ladies’ blue eyes flashed, too, but not like hers did in anger. He kicked a rock off of the boardwalk with a grin. No doubt about it. He’d been smitten with her at first sight.

  Back at the Bromley Hotel, he walked around to the courtyard, finally entering the stable. Only horses shuffling in their stalls broke the quiet. He wasn’t sure if the others slept or had moved their card game to someone else’s room. He also didn’t care. After the rude way they’d treated Matilda, he didn’t mind bypassing the pleasantries by going right to sleep.

  ***

  Waking up alone the next morning Bert grinned over being blissfully, completely alone. Too much time spent on a shared bunk at sea cured him of crawling into a cot warmed by someone else’s body. Except, a warm woman on a cold night might be an exception he’d be willing to make for the right person. Someone spicy, curt on the outside but with a vulnerable heart, like a girl he’d recently held. He sat up, swinging his feet to the floor. He’d known her what, two, maybe three days? The time seemed shorter as if he didn’t know her at all, yet also seemed longer as if they’d met years ago.

  Bert threw on his clothes before stepping into his boots. Eager to see her during breakfast, he rushed to the ladder but paused, remembering the bellhops. If they were there eating, would Matilda hide in the kitchen to avoid them? If so, would she let him sit with her? He shook his head, hurrying out to the courtyard. Hang the other men. He didn’t care what they’d think about him having breakfast with Matilda. As long as they were respectful to her, they’d have no problems from him.

  The two cooks scrambled to fill orders as all of the servers except Matilda hurried to carry plates out to the customers. Even in the chaos, Stew gave him a plate full of food. “Thanks,” Bert said. Unwilling to cause a fuss, he continued on to the dining room. All of the male workers for the hotel sat at one table. He approached them. The talking died down before Bert asked, “Have you seen Matilda this morning?”

  Each person glanced at each other before Sam answered, “No, but then none of us are as keen on her as you are.”

  Janie filled a couple of the water glasses, frowning at Sam. “None of us have seen here at work today. Her door was closed. She’s still in her room as far as I know.”

  Bert handed his plate to Janie. “I’d appreciate your taking this to set aside for me later.” She nodded. He addressed the men seated. “I’ll go check on her myself. I don’t want to hear another word about her respectability from any of you. She’s a lovely young lady. I’ve noticed she also has a sharp tongue you all deserve.” Disgusted with everyone’s gossip, he left the table for Matilda’s room. Bert planned on a distant chat with no hugging or being alone with her. He didn’t need to repeat a mistake more than once.

  On his way to the stairs, he heard Matilda’s voice from Bromley’s office. He paused. His sister, Ellen, had always warned him how eavesdroppers heard what they deserved but he couldn’t help himself from listening in.

  “I think it’s for the best, Mr. Bromley. Even though you’re a far better employer than anyone could hope to have, I think it’s time I moved on to another position.”

  Bert frowned at the sudden realization he didn’t want her to leave. Although they’d recently met, he wanted to barge in to convince her to stay with them. Yet, if she wanted to leave, he needed to let her despite his building feelings for her. He leaned against the wall, waiting to hear Bromley’s response.

  “Has someone made you a better offer of employment than mine?” Bromley asked.

  “No, not at all. I don’t know if anyone could.” She paused. Bert could imagine her winding one of her blonde tendrils around her finger. “I’d planned on working a few months before going to my next stop. I’d never planned on being here a full year.”

  “I see.” Bromley’s chair squeaked. “I can’t make you stay if you’re determined to leave. What I’d like you to do is think about your reasons for going, sleep on them before meeting me here tomorrow morning with your final decision. I’d hate to lose a good server like you. I’d also hate it if those boys ran you off.”

  “It’s not their fault, sir. They’re boys.”

  “Not all of them are. DuBoise, I know you’re lurking around out there. Come on in so we can talk.”

  Bert winced. Now she knew he’d been eavesdropping on her. Nothing to do about his prying except own up to it. He pushed away from the wall before entering the room. “Yes, sir?” he said to Bromley but looking at Matilda. She sat in a wood-framed leather chair, her arms crossed, glaring at him. “How can I be of help?”

  Chapter Eight

  Bert was a rat, listening to her as she put in her notice. Matilda’s face burned at how much he must have heard about her reasons for leaving. “I suppose I was remiss in not closing the door behind me.” She stood, smoothing out her apron. “If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Bromley, I’ll get started on the day’s work.”

  “Of course. Unless you have something to say to Mr. DuBoise here?”

  “Thank you, no.” She eased her way to the door. “I appreciate your insight. You’ve given me plenty to ponder today.”

  “You’re welcome. Come back if you have questions or concerns.” He leaned forward, folding his hands on his desk. “Do you mind closing the door behind you?”

  Somebody was in trouble, but it wasn’t her. Matilda couldn’t help but give Bert a triumphant grin as she replied, “Yes, sir.” She almost skipped out of the room, pulling the door closed. Heading for the kitchen, she gave departing guests a wide berth as they passed by with their luggage. None of the bellboys w
ould look her in the eye. She smiled; glad to be free from faking a politeness she didn’t feel.

  Once in the kitchen, orders ready to go out stood in the window. A stack of dishes stood next to the washtub. Her other choice was to go out to deal with customers, so she chose to wash up instead. Cleaning would give her time to really think about her place here at Bromley Hotel. She wanted to leave but Mr. Bromley had given her good reasons to stay despite the turmoil from the others. He simply must be right about newer gossip soon replacing her scandal as the main toping for the idle.

  Matilda scraped the food from the plates into a slop pail, before dunking the dishes in the water. Mr. Bromley had recommended looking before she leapt to a new home somewhere else. He didn’t know she had a nest egg. She washed a plate, finding no need to tell her boss about her finances. She rinsed the plate, drying it before setting the dish next to the tub. Janie brought in another stack of dishes with silverware on top for her to clean.

  Sighing over not being as close to finished as she’d thought, Matilda dug in to wash faster. When she’d hurried through the dining room to the kitchen, the other servers had given her furtive looks when their eyes met. As if, each knew a horrible, shameful secret about her. She snorted. They didn’t know the half of it. A man in her room with an open door, alone, was the least of her secrets. She glanced at first Dean, then Stew as they mashed sausage patties before breaking eggs for an order. She trusted the cooks here and Mr. Bromley more than anyone else at the hotel, but even they didn’t know about her past.

  Having just enough of a break in the cascade of dirty dishes arriving, Matilda took the chance to refill her wash water. She hurried to the side of the hotel before throwing out the dirty suds. After giving the bottom a tap for the clingy bits at the bottom, cool damp air from the north blew in between the buildings. She stopped, wanting to breathe deep, carve out the time to enjoy a hint of rain in such a dry land. Reluctant to resume her work, Matilda lingered to feel the breeze dry the sweat she’d earned from a hot kitchen.