A Narrow Road (Kansas Crossroads Book 8)

  A Narrow Road

  Kansas Crossroads #8

  by Amelia C. Adams

  To my husband—my road will always bring me back to you.

  I’d like to thank my beta readers—Cissie, Erin, Jennifer, Mary, Nancy, and Tracy. I couldn’t do it without you!

  I’d also like to thank my fans and my street team for all their support, and Kirsten Osbourne for information about cattle drives. Any mistakes are my own.

  Table of Contents:

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sneak Peek

  Chapter One

  Topeka, Kansas

  1875

  Margaret looked up from her ledger and grinned when she saw who had just come into the Brody Hotel. Olivia Osbourne stood in the doorway, one hand on her hip. Some people found Olivia a little hard to take, but after all they’d been through together, Margaret would always consider her a dear friend.

  “Honestly, I don’t know why I ever bothered to quit this place. I should have just stayed.” Olivia reached up and took off her hat. “One of these times, I’ll tell you people no when you come asking for help, but I suppose today is not that day.”

  “And we’re very glad of it.” Margaret gestured to the ledger on the desk. “We have six rooms filled for tonight, we’ve just cleaned up from the first meal service, and it’s time to do laundry.”

  “And you’re down to how many waitresses?” Olivia asked.

  “Sarah runs the kitchen, so there’s just me, Elizabeth, and Giselle waiting tables. Harriet is too far advanced to be seen in public, so she’s taking care of Rose and helping with other tasks.” At Olivia’s look of incredulity, Margaret hurried on. “Mr. Brody has placed more newspaper ads, and he promises to hire as many likely girls as he can find.”

  Olivia shook her head. “Gracious. I turn my back for just five minutes, and you all fall apart. It’s a good thing I’m here now, although if I had any sense, I would have waited until after laundry time.”

  Margaret grinned again. “Well, lucky for us, you left your sense at home. Come on—we have a lot of linen to wash.”

  Olivia hung up her hat and grabbed an apron, then followed Margaret outside to the giant galvanized washtub that was set up in the side yard of the hotel. Tom, the handyman, had already filled it with boiling water, and several large bars of soap stood at the ready.

  Elizabeth, Sarah, and Giselle were already hard at work, and greeted Olivia warmly. Margaret gathered up an armload of napkins that had just been wrung out and carried them over to the line. Whoever Mr. Brody hired, she certainly hoped they liked doing laundry, because this was becoming more than the few of them could reasonably handle.

  “How long can the pastor spare you?” Elizabeth asked as she tossed several tablecloths into the hot water.

  “I imagine for as long as you need me. He never minds taking his meals here, as you know—he much prefers Sarah’s cooking to mine. I suppose I’m an utter failure as a wife.” Olivia said this almost cheerfully, which made Margaret smile. Anyone who saw Pastor Osbourne look at his new bride would be in no doubt that he was besotted with her, and he bore her lack of domestic skills with humor.

  “Be that as it may, we’ll try not to keep you away from home any longer than necessary,” Elizabeth promised.

  “I wonder if he ever regrets letting our housekeeper go. I can keep the house clean, but as for the rest—well, it’s a good thing he’s a patient man.”

  With the napkins now hung on the line, Margaret moved back over to the washtub. The scalding water was a shock, as it always was, but the linens would never get clean enough in a cooler temperature.

  Without any warning whatsoever, she felt the ground rumble beneath her feet as though a thunderstorm had suddenly come up with all its might. The sky was clear, though, with not even a wisp of a cloud. A glance at the other girls told her they were just as confused. She tossed the tablecloth she was scrubbing back into the washtub and raced around the corner of the hotel to the front, where the noise seemed to be coming from.

  It looked like a stampede. Heads upon heads of cattle were charging up Main Street, sending people up onto the sidewalks and even into the stores to take refuge. Men on horseback rode alongside the animals with whips, urging them onward and trying to control their direction.

  “What on earth?” Margaret whispered as she stood there, mesmerized by the pounding hooves and the rush of bodies going past. She was so interested in what was going on that she didn’t notice one of the steers breaking loose and heading right for her until a man rode up and knocked her out of the way, cracking his whip at the steer and forcing it back into the group.

  “Sorry, ma’am!” he called out as he rode away, disappearing into the maelstrom of bodies and hooves. She hadn’t caught a glimpse of his face at all—just his hat and his horse before she was thrown to the ground.

  “Margaret! Are you all right?” Sarah cried out, coming from behind and taking her arm to help her up.

  “I’m fine,” Margaret replied. “Just a little shaken.” She wiped her forehead with her arm, still watching the procession down the street. “Are they getting on the train?”

  “That’s what it looks like,” Sarah said. “Off to auction, I’d say. Now come on—let’s get you cleaned up. You’re covered in dust.”

  Margaret blinked a few times and looked down at her dress. The dark clothing they wore as their uniform at the Brody showed every speck and fleck, and sure enough, she was a mess. “Just what we needed—another thing to wash today,” she joked as she turned toward the hotel to go change.

  ***

  The girls had just managed to get all the laundry on the line and the food ready for the next meal service when the train rolled in. Margaret felt as though she hadn’t had a chance to draw breath all day, and was relieved beyond measure when a young lady approached her, clutching a parasol in one hand and a satchel in the other. “Excuse me. I’m here to answer the newspaper advertisement for a waitress?”

  “Let me introduce you to Mr. Brody.” Margaret showed the girl over to her employer, then scurried off to take orders at the next table. She hoped this one would work out—they’d lost so many waitresses just in her short time there. Mr. Brody needed to insist on a one-year commitment, or at the very least, put a ban on his workers falling in love.

  As soon as the meal service was concluded, Mr. Brody asked everyone to meet with him in his office. He’d even asked Tom and his wife, Harriet, to be there, which made Margaret a little nervous. Whatever it was, it must be serious if it was going to affect the entire hotel staff.

  “First off, I understand Margaret had a bit of a run-in with a cow earlier,” Mr. Brody said. “Are you all right, Margaret?”

  “Oh, it wasn’t just a cow,” Sarah interjected. “It was one of the largest steers I’ve ever seen, coming straight for her.”

  “I’m fine,” Margaret said, embarrassed and slightly amused at Sarah’s interruption. “I’ve hardly thought about it since.”

  “I’m glad.” Mr. Brody smiled. “Frightened animals can be quite dangerous. Now, as long as you’re quite sure you’re all right, I’d like you
all to meet Ruth Barnes,” he said, motioning toward their newcomer. “She’ll be joining our waitressing staff, and she also has kitchen experience.” The girl gave a little nod as though shy about being singled out.

  “We’re so glad to have you,” Margaret said, and everyone else added their own greetings.

  “Additionally, a change is coming—a rather large one.” Mr. Brody took a deep breath. “As you know, the westward expansion continues on, and more and more people are choosing to relocate by train than ever before. I just received a visit from Mr. Hoover. He’s the station manager,” he added for Ruth’s benefit. “The railroad is going to be adding more trains to the schedule, which means that we’ll need to prepare for more meal services.”

  Margaret heard nearly everyone in the room gasp or murmur. She couldn’t imagine it—they were already busy as it was.

  “But my dear,” Elizabeth said, bouncing little Rose on her hip, “we’re working at full capacity.”

  “I know it will be difficult, but I believe we can do it,” Mr. Brody said. “I intend to bring on several new waitresses, and perhaps we can run them in shifts in order to assure time off.” He chuckled. “Just a few short months ago, I was worried that I might not be able to stir up enough business to keep the place afloat. Now it seems the struggle will be keeping up with the huge amounts of business we’ll be getting.”

  Margaret raised her hand. “We’ve just lost our dining room manager, with Rachel leaving us. Will we be filling that position again?”

  “Yes, I intend to continue with our assistant manager program,” Elizabeth replied. “Thank you for bringing it to my memory. Giselle, would you feel comfortable taking on that role? Have you been here long enough to have a good sense for all our routines?”

  Giselle’s cheeks pinked. “Yes, I believe so. Thank you, Elizabeth.”

  Margaret was very glad to hear that Elizabeth intended to keep the program going. Being able to say that she was an assistant manager at the hotel brought her a sense of importance, and she enjoyed the responsibility of overseeing the hotel rooms. Plus, should anything happen and she needed to find work somewhere else, that title should help her get a position easily.

  “Do we know the new train schedule?” Sarah asked.

  “Not yet,” Mr. Brody said. “Mr. Hoover said he’d let us know as soon as he’s told. He’s expecting a telegram about it shortly.”

  Sarah nodded, and Margaret could almost hear her friend’s thoughts churning. More trains, more meal services, more food preparation—how was it all to be done? Hiring more waitresses would certainly help, but would the ovens and stoves be sufficient?

  “I wonder, Mr. Brody, about ordering more tablecloths and napkins,” Giselle said. “If we’re serving more meals, there won’t be time for the linens to dry before they’re needed again, and I know how important clean linens are to you.”

  “Already thinking like a dining room manager,” Mr. Brody said approvingly. “Right you are.” He picked up his pen and jotted a note. “I’ll see to that right away. Does anyone else have questions or concerns?”

  “I could use more pans and bowls for the kitchen, if we’re going to be preparing so much additional food,” Sarah said, and Mr. Brody made a note of that as well.

  After a few more minutes of suggestions, Mr. Brody sat back and exhaled. “I suppose all that remains now is to see it in action and make changes from there,” he said. “Olivia, thank you for stepping in to help us. You’re invaluable, as always.”

  Olivia nodded from her spot in the corner of the room. “I could hardly deprive you of my presence a moment longer than was absolutely necessary. Why, it would be rather cruel, don’t you think?”

  “Indeed,” Mr. Brody said with a chuckle. “All right, I believe that concludes everything I had to say. My dear, what needs to be done next?” He turned to Elizabeth.

  “We need to clean up from the last meal service and start getting ready for tomorrow. Margaret, would you please show Ruth upstairs while the others take care of the dining room and kitchen?”

  “Of course.” Margaret stood up and motioned for Ruth to follow her.

  They climbed the first set of stairs, those leading from the hotel lobby to the first floor. “Here are the guest rooms,” Margaret said as they walked down the long hallway to the other staircase. “One of our most important jobs is keeping the rooms absolutely clean at all times. Mr. Brody insists on running a spotless establishment.”

  “That must be nice for the guests,” Ruth replied, looking from side to side at the doors as they passed.

  “We do receive a lot of compliments.” Margaret opened the door to the second staircase. “Up here is where we sleep.”

  The dormitory where the waitresses lodged ran half the length of the entire building, up in the eaves. Thankfully, the ceiling was high enough that they weren’t prone to hitting their heads on the crossbeams as they moved around the room. A nightstand was placed next to each bed, and a washbasin stood in the corner.

  “These are the unoccupied beds,” Margaret said, indicating with a nod. “You may choose whichever you like.”

  Ruth put her satchel on the one nearest the stairs. “Thank you. This looks very comfortable.”

  Margaret sat down on her own bed and tucked one foot beneath her. It wasn’t at all a ladylike way to sit, but since no one could see them, she didn’t think it mattered. “So, Ruth, what’s your story?”

  Ruth blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Your story. We all have one—some tragic event in our lives that forced us out into the world on our own. What brings you to the Brody Hotel?”

  Ruth sat down and fidgeted with the handle of her parasol. “I was working in the kitchen at a ranch a few miles out of town here, and one of the men took a liking to me. He wouldn’t accept no for an answer, so I decided to leave.” She lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know if that’s much of a story, though.”

  Margaret smiled. “It’ll do. So, you don’t have a family?”

  “No. Well, I do. Just not nearby.” Ruth chuckled a little. “I wanted to come west and see what all the excitement was about, but my parents wanted to stay in North Carolina. They told me I could come and see for myself—I think we’re engaged in a battle of wills at this point. I’m determined to prove that I can make it on my own, and they’re counting down the days until I give up and come home.”

  “I can understand that.”

  “So, what’s your story?” Ruth tilted her head to the side.

  Margaret pressed her lips together and then smiled. “I don’t suppose you’ll believe me, but I was wanted for murdering my husband.”

  Ruth’s eyes grew wide. “What on earth . . . I don’t understand.”

  “I arrived on the train one day and collapsed on the platform, and the deputy sheriff brought me here. Then he set about figuring out who I was and where I’d come from, as I’d lost my memory. As it turns out, my husband had been murdered, and I was the suspect. Olivia helped me seek asylum in the church until the real murderer was found, and then I decided to stay here in Topeka.” Margaret said the words easily enough, but the memories were still painful.

  “Oh, my goodness.” Ruth shook her head. “I can’t even imagine it.”

  “It was difficult, that’s to be sure. But I’ve had a fresh start, and I’m really very happy here. I’m sure you will be too.”

  “Tell me . . . tell me about Mr. Brody,” Ruth said after a moment’s hesitation. “Is he a good employer?”

  “The very best,” Margaret assured her. “You’ll find him completely different from the man at the ranch.”

  Ruth’s cheeks flooded red. “Thank you. I didn’t want to ask right out . . . I’m glad you understood my meaning.”

  Margaret stood up and touched Ruth’s shoulder. “Your face gave you away,” she said lightly. “I don’t think you should ever try to play poker. Take a few minutes to rest and unpack. I’m going to head downstairs and help the girls finish up.” Sh
e gathered her skirts and headed downstairs, already liking Ruth and hoping she’d stick around longer than five minutes.

  Chapter Two

  Wade Watkins stepped into the Brody Hotel and took off his hat. This place was nicer than any hotel he’d ever stayed in, but that wasn’t saying much. He’d spent far more nights sleeping out under the stars than he’d ever spent in a real bed, and that’s just how he liked it. Leave the fluff and pillows for the city folk—they’d never know the richness of being able to count every twinkling light in the sky as they fell asleep.

  A kind-looking young woman stood behind the hotel’s front counter, and he stepped over to say hello. “My name is Wade Watkins, ma’am, and I’m looking for the young lady I knocked into the dirt earlier today.”

  A smile played on her mouth. No doubt she’d heard the whole story—women did enjoy sharing that kind of thing with each other. “I’m Elizabeth Brody, and I believe the young lady you mean is Margaret Smith. I’ll go get her for you, if you’d like to have a seat in the parlor.”

  “Oh, no, but thanks anyway. I’m too dusty from the trail. I’ll just stay right here and wait.”

  “Very well.” She gave him another smile before moving off down the hallway.

  A moment later, he heard a light footstep, and he turned to see the girl he’d come looking for. Seemed she’d changed her dress, which was probably for the best—he didn’t imagine she’d been too clean after their little encounter.

  “Miss Smith, is it?”

  “It is,” she replied.

  “Well, Miss Smith, my name is Wade Watkins, and I’ve come to apologize for throwing you in the dirt. Those steers can be plenty mean, and that one was headed right for you. I did what I thought was best, but I was worried that I’d harmed you in some way. Are you all right?”

  She nodded. “I understand, Mr. Watkins. I was a little surprised at first, but I was never offended.”

  “That’s quite a relief. Thank you for your easy forgiveness.”