The Sailor and The Shrew

by Laura Stapleton

  She gave herself two more seconds of appreciating the humidity until the guilt over leaving the others without a washtub set in. After work, she could open her window. Right now, the servers needed soapy water. Mary set a stack of dirty dishes on the counter, giving Matilda a brief smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. As Mary left, Matilda went to work on the new pile of dishes. The tiptoeing around by everyone was exactly why she’d talked with Mr. Bromley this morning. She liked him, enjoyed working here. But, what if he was wrong about someone’s new gossip replacing hers when it grew stale?

  Soon, the flow of dirty dishes slowed until none waited for her. As if waking up from a trance, Matilda blew a few stray flyaways from where they stuck to her face before looking around her. Stew was scraping the stovetop clean. Drew was putting eggs in the icebox for later. No more dishes waited for her, so she dumped the dirty water.

  Coming back inside was a little more difficult. Storm clouds had built in the southwest during her work. The rain fell in air so dry, the water evaporated before reaching the earth. She’d never seen such a thing back home, but Dean had said it was commonplace in Wyoming.

  Once back in the empty kitchen, she cleaned out the washtub, refilling it. Matilda wanted to watch the sky until the next mealtime to see if the rain ever hit the ground. She left the kitchen, intending to leave by going through the Swan to the lobby. A group of men sat at a far table by the window, giving her pause. Dirty dishes lay on the table in front of them, as did empty water glasses. She was the only server there so watching rain clouds would have to wait.

  Matilda picked up the water pitcher, coming over to refill their water glasses. “Let me top your drinks off, gentlemen. I’ll clear the dishes for you, too.”

  One of the older gentlemen with only a couple of missing teeth gave her a big smile. “Well, little lady, you can do anything you’d like for us.”

  A few men chuckled, some snickering. Matilda’s heart sank. Waiting on this group with its thinly veiled leers already spelled trouble for her. “Cleaning off your table so you’re not staring at dirty dishes will have to do.” She stacked the plates, scooping up the silverware last to place on top. “You’ll have to see a menu for anything else.”

  “A menu? Hot damn, Slick, ya hear that? The lady’s got a menu for us.” He attempted to put his arm around her waist but she dodged his touch. “This really is a full-service hotel.”

  Matilda balanced the plates with her left hand, slapping his hand with the other. “This is nothing of the sort. I will never be available to the likes of any men like you.” She rushed to the kitchen, causing a fork to clatter on the floor. Bert standing in the kitchen doorway stopped her. She stared, embarrassment filling her as he disappeared into the kitchen.

  Ignoring the laughing catcalls from the men, she followed Bert with lead feet. She hadn’t meant to slap the man’s hand. It’d been a reflexive move she wasn’t sure any male could fully understand. Even worse, Mr. Bromley might not give her a choice in leaving after he heard about her smacking a guest. She stepped in to find Bert in front of the icebox with an empty plate.

  He glanced at her for a second before continuing to scrounge around in the icebox. “Do I need to go out to show those men the door or can you handle them?”

  “No. When one of the cooks comes back, I’ll send him out to deal with the men if they’re still there.” She set the stack of dishes next to the washtub. “I’m more worried about the one I smacked telling Bromley I abused him.”

  “I saw what happened. If you need me, I’ll be a witness to the man’s bad behavior.”

  His offer warmed her heart. She liked having Bert on her side. He added a small ear of corn to his plate. Had he missed out on the usual meal given to stable hands? “Can I help you with something? Fix you a proper meal? I can cook, you know.”

  Bert paused, grinning at her. “No, no need to go to any trouble on my account. I’m looking for a leftover piece of meat no one else wants. A few other items just jumped out at me during my search.” He continued checking various foods. “At some point I’ll feel caught up on how much fresh beef I missed out on during my time sailing. Today is not that day.”

  Matilda leaned against the counter, watching him as he unwrapped first one thing, then another. “I don’t miss any foods from home.” Unwilling to bring up anything else personal, she said, “Mrs. Bromley slips down here at night when she thinks everyone is asleep. Stew says there’s always a piece of pie or cake missing in the morning.”

  He put a half of a baked potato on his plate. “Why would she feel the need to sneak?”

  She could think of several reasons a person would hide eating a second dessert. Unsure if Bert had met Mrs. Bromley for himself, she didn’t want to influence his opinion of their boss’s wife. “I don’t know for sure what she thinks, but my guess is she likes sweets too much to wait until the morning.”

  “I can understand. I’d go to the galley in the middle of the night, too.” Bert reached way back, resurfacing with a handful of bacon strips. “Ah-ha! Success at last.”

  He grinned at her, his hair a little ruffled. She already knew he smelled good but after adding in the bacon scent? Her stomach growled. He was irresistible. “Good. Now you can go eat. Let me wash dishes in peace.”

  Bert took a clean fork from the silverware bin. “If the men are still in the dining room, I don’t mind giving them an attitude adjustment with my boot on their behind.”

  Truth be told, Matilda didn’t either. In fact, she’d love for all the working men at the hotel to show rude guests the door. Not likely considering how crude the bellboys or stable hands were. “Eat your breakfast.” She reached over for a biscuit. “Take this, too. I don’t need a hero, no matter how nice he is.”

  “I’m a hero, huh?” He winked at her before strutting a little to the dining room door. “I like that. Let me know if I need to ride up on a white horse to rescue you, all right?”

  Matilda imagined him trotting up to save her. She chuckled at the ridiculousness. “How silly, but yes. You’ll be the first I tell.”

  “Good. I hope so.” Bert backed out of the kitchen with a blush, letting the door slam shut behind him.

  Matilda couldn’t help but smile before filling the washtubs with water. She soaped up a rag, washing the last few dishes before the lunch rush. Maybe because Bert was older than most of the others, he was also more respectful. Except for the loitering around when she was talking with Mr. Bromley incident, of course. His doing so still rankled a bit.

  She dunked a dish before scrubbing. Still, she supposed as nice as he’d been overall, she couldn’t fault Bert too much for his curiosity. Didn’t an inquisitive nature signal great intelligence? She didn’t know for sure but wouldn’t mind spending more time with Bert to learn more about his travels. His hints at a life on board a ship intrigued her. She didn’t want to pry, preferring to let him tell her on his own.

  Janie strolled with Dean into the kitchen, continuing a conversation between them. She glanced at the two before resuming her washing. She’d rather think about Bert than eavesdrop. Her desire to dwell on him bothered her. Men didn’t deserve her time, not even if they were as kind or handsome as Bert. In her experience, the better a man behaved around her in the beginning, the worse his betrayal hurt later.

  She glanced at the other two people in the room as they cut up vegetables. Both talked too quietly for her to hear, so Matilda hurried to finish. She dried the last dish just as Janie said, “I’ll take the lunchboxes out for the boys today.”

  Matilda ignored the twinge of disappointment in her gut at missing out on seeing Bert later. Impatient with her wishy-washy feelings, she nodded. “Sure. I’ll make sure they’re ready to go. Do we have any customers out front?”

  “A couple.” Janie reached for another onion to dice before Dean took it from her. “Mary’s seeing to them.”

  A cold sliver of fear slithered through her gut as Matilda picked up the plates, setting them next to the s
tove for the cooks to use later. “Only two or a group of men?”

  Janie scooped diced onion, dropping the pieces into a bowl. “They’re married. Newlyweds, judging by their calf eyed looks at each other. Sarah is talking to them, taking their order.”

  Expecting Sarah to come in with an order, Matilda opened the lunch tins for the stable hands. “I haven’t seen Mary in some time.”

  “She’s out back talking with the boys,” Janie replied, pulling a stack of napkins from under the counter. She handed them to Matilda. “We need more napkins before tomorrow.”

  Matilda lined the boxes with the cloths. “I know. I forgot to send the last batch to laundry yesterday.”

  “Hmm, well, you were busy,” Janie commented, putting a biscuit in each box.

  She paused. “No. I wasn’t.” Shaking her head, Matilda placed an apple next to each biscuit. “Not busy in the way you’re thinking.”

  Janie took a slab of roast beef from the icebox. She made four even slices, letting Matilda distribute the meat among the lunches. Janie put a hand on Matilda’s back, saying, “I’m just teasing. The door was open, so you were being respectable. Besides, none of us girls blames you letting him steal a kiss. We all agree. Bert is rather easy on the eyes.”

  Matilda glanced sideways at her. “He didn’t steal anything. Honestly, I hadn’t noticed his appearance at all.”

  Janie laughed. “You’d be the first not to.” She started at one end, closing the boxes as she went. “He’s been all the talk among the housekeeping girls. He helped one of them lift a heavy basket of sheets. Now he’s her hero.”

  An ache spread through her chest. Matilda wanted to shake the humor from Janie. Bert was her hero, no one else’s, especially not some ole gal in housekeeping. How had he even met one of those women, anyway? She glanced over at Janie to find her staring back. “Hmph, some people are far too easily pleased, then.” Not liking the squirmy feeling in her heart, Matilda picked up an order pad plus a pencil. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  As Janie nodded, Matilda left the kitchen. Only one table had patrons. Stew stood next to the group, chatting with them. He noticed her and then waved her over. Matilda stepped up to the group with a smile as Stew said, “This here is my best server, Matilda. She’ll take good care of you.” He put his hand on her back, giving her a couple of gentle pats. “They’re my family, so don’t turn me into a liar.”

  She chuckled. “I won’t.” He gave her a grin before strolling back to the kitchen. She faced the group, seeing the similarities he’d mentioned. Some of the children even had his ruddy face plus a scalp of blonde hair, others had his easy smile. She couldn’t help but return their grins with one of her own. “Now then, who’s hungry?”

  ***

  Later, when the dining room had cleared of lunch patrons, Matilda leaned against the coffee counter with a sigh. Everyone had been much more impatient than usual. The emotion had spread to the rest of the staff like a winter cold. Mr. Bromley had even stomped through with narrowed eyes as if looking for conflicts among them. She shoved her order pad with its pencil into her pocket, hearing the seams rip as she did so.

  After checking, sure enough, only the bottom seam remained intact. She shook her head. Dishes needed doing first, unless the other girls didn’t mind her crying off this one time. She hurried to the kitchen where Mary was washing dishes alongside Sarah. The cooks ate their lunch with one hand, cleaning the stove with the other. Matilda put her pad next to the others on the counter before going to the girls. “Look what happened.” She waved the loose fabric as the two girls saw the damage for themselves. Matilda added, “I’ll need to mend my torn pocket before supper.”

  Mary nodded. “Go on. We’re nearly done.”

  Matilda gave them a brief smile before running upstairs. She dug through her top dresser drawer without bothering to shut her bedroom door. Repairing an apron didn’t require a long time, so why bother making the stuffy room even closer? She threaded her needle, snipping off the excess. The repair took little time. She was almost done when a knock on her door made her glance up. Bert stood there with a serious expression on his face. Her heart sank. He usually had a much better disposition. Something must be wrong for him to not even have a hint of a smile. “Yes?”

  “May I come in?”

  Her first instinct was to refuse him as he leaned against her doorframe. People would talk. But then, weren’t they gossiping about the last time Bert visited her room? “You might as well. How else are we to have a torrid affair if you’re not in here with me?”

  He frowned, shaking his head. “That’s just it. We need to have a serious talk with the others, please.”

  Feeding squealing hogs their slop sounded far more appealing than facing the jeers of the men working at the hotel. “Right now?” she asked, hoping to put off any sort of discussion about her reputation. “This can’t wait until later?”

  “Yes, now, no. I don’t want to wait to settle this matter.”

  Chapter Nine

  Matilda set aside her sewing kit before standing to retie her apron. “I appreciate your effort, but really, it’s no use. People want to believe the worst.”

  “I can’t let them think the worst of you.”

  His words touched her heart. She glanced up at him. Affection shown in his eyes, making her feel fluttery inside. Her hands shook as if she’d finished a pot of coffee by herself. Matilda tried to give him a calm smile. “I appreciate your efforts, but they’re futile.” Judging by the creases in his forehead from his raised eyebrows, she’d only irritated him. Before he could argue, she said, “You know I’m right. Some other incident will completely distract them soon enough. Then, we’ll be yesterday’s gossip.”

  “Maybe so, but you’ll also be long gone, won’t you?”

  So, Bert had heard this morning’s discussion with Mr. Bromley. Good. She needed the reminder he’d been a bit of a snoop earlier to keep from gazing at him like a lovesick calf now. “Probably. Thus, saying anything to the others is a waste of my time.” She lifted her chin, trying to look down her nose at him despite his height. “As for your listening in on what was a private conversation, I don’t appreciate it. Please don’t repeat anything you heard because nothing is final.”

  He raised a hand. “I didn’t mean to intrude, no. Next time, close the door.”

  She glared at him then tried to brush past him on her way out of her room. He grabbed her arm. “Not so fast. I still want to clear up your reputation; you deserve that much. You’re probably correct. Tomorrow something else will set them to clucking like bored chickens, but right now? You’re no loose woman. I’ll be dam—uh, I’d be remiss in letting anyone believe such a falsehood just because of my actions.”

  Matilda searched his face for honesty. His gaze never wavered from hers. She wanted to believe him, yet anyone could bluff. “Why do you bother about what others think of me? We’re barely acquaintances. After next week, maybe even former acquaintances.”

  Bert let go of her arm. “Next week? So soon, huh?” He shook his head. “Fine, you may have turned tail by then, but for today, we’re finding the others to clear up the mistake.”

  She dreaded facing everyone, telling them a truth none of them wanted to believe. In an effort to distract Bert from this foolhardy attempt, she said, “All right, I’ll do as you asked, but first, I’d like a favor from you.”

  His face brightened. “A lovely woman wants a favor from me? Sure. I can help.”

  Matilda scowled. “No, never that kind of favor,” she snapped at him. He frowned as she continued, “Come on. Let’s find a quiet place in the dining room to talk. Nothing more favorable than that.”

  He shrugged, leaning against the doorframe again. “I was hoping for the favor of an extra slice of apple pie, actually.”

  “Sure you were.” She made a come-on motion with her finger before leading him through the hall.

  Bert followed with a grin. “You assume a lot, ma’am. Like the assumption every man
you meet wants to maul you.”

  Matilda paused, a little surprised by his observation. She didn’t think such a vain thing, did she? Yet, hadn’t she assumed every man had designs on her virtue? She snorted, opening the stairwell door. “They’re men, aren’t they?”

  “Yes, but you’re not every man’s type.”

  She stared at him, trying to read his expression. His blank face told her nothing. Not that she wanted to be any man’s plaything, but was Bert insinuating she wasn’t his type? Why did him not finding her appealing feel hurtful, too? Matilda didn’t quite know how to react without asking if he found her attractive. What if she asked only for him to say no, or worse, laugh at her question? She continued on toward the kitchen, reluctant to risk hearing the wrong answer from Bert. “I don’t think I want to talk to you anymore. Actually, ever again.”

  His footsteps behind her stopped. “Didn’t you need a favor?”

  She did. “So I suppose I’m talking to you a little bit more.” Matilda pursed her lips at his triumphant smile. She glared up at him in the dimly lit area. “But I’m not speaking to you afterward, since you’ll learn we won’t need to set anything right with the others.”

  Bert continued to where she stood on a couple of steps above the bottom of the stairs. “Oh, we’re still doing that.” He nudged her with his shoulder as he bypassed her to the last stair. “I’m just not doing anything for you first.”

  If she were like her mother, she’d slap Bert for his impudence. Instead, she took a deep breath. She needed to keep calm before distracting him. He didn’t need to be confronting the others about their relationship. More so if their lecturing led to her talking too much about her blossoming feelings for Bert.