A Joyful Noise (Kansas Crossroads Book 14)
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
A Joyful Noise
Kansas Crossroads Book Fourteen
by Amelia C. Adams
My thanks to my beta readers—Amy, Laurie, Jeene, Mary, and Meisje.
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Copyright ©2017 Amelia C. Adams
Cover design by Steven Novak
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 One
Topeka, Kansas
1876
The flutter of a hand caught Georgia Baker’s attention from the corner of the dining room, and she moved that direction. “Yes, ma’am?”
“May I have more bread, please?”
The din of voices in the room was louder than usual, and Georgia concentrated on her customer’s lips to make out what she was saying. “Of course,” she replied. “I’ll be right back.”
As she stepped away from the table and turned toward the kitchen, she couldn’t help but glance at the handsome dark-haired man seated to the woman’s left. She didn’t think they were traveling together—that appeared to be the woman’s husband on the right—and she wondered just for a moment if the stranger was married. But that was a silly thing to think about—as soon as the train whistle blew, he’d be leaving, and that would be that. Far too many handsome men came into the Brody Hotel, and far too many of them left as quickly as they came.
She stepped into the kitchen and grabbed another plate of bread, pausing to add a pat of butter, then returned to the table. Everyone there seemed well situated, so she glanced over her shoulder to make sure her other customers were also happy.
One was most definitely not.
A tall, burly man near the window had come to his feet, shouting something, his face bright red. Georgia moved toward him, unable to see his lips from that angle, but felt a hand on her elbow and paused.
“I wouldn’t approach him if I were you.”
It was the handsome man from the table behind her. She blushed when she glanced down and saw that he was still touching her arm, but he seemed entirely unconcerned about the contact.
“Why?” she asked.
“He just called you something very uncomplimentary because his steak is cold. I believe that’s your employer?”
She glanced over and saw Mr. Brody making his way across the dining room toward the customer. “Yes, that’s Adam Brody.”
“He looks more than capable of dealing with the situation. Leave it be.”
She looked down at his hand again. At first, she had been flattered, but now she was annoyed. “Sir, you’re preventing me from doing my job, and I don’t believe it’s your right to do so.”
He dropped his hand and stepped back. “I’m simply trying to protect you, miss.”
“As you said, Mr. Brody is more than capable of that, and it’s my responsibility to see to the needs of my customers. All of them. Please excuse me.”
She made her way over to Mr. Brody’s side, and he turned to tell her what was going on. “This man says his steak is cold.”
“I’ll get him a replacement right away, and I apologize.” Georgia moved to pick up the plate, feeling even more agitated. She knew full well the steak wasn’t cold—she’d seen steam rising from it as she carried it from the kitchen. Sarah and Ruth were excellent cooks who never sent food out unless it was piping hot.
As she lifted the plate, the customer’s hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist. “I don’t want a new steak,” he said. “I want the pot roast, and I want it hot, and I want it now.”
Anger flared in Georgia’s chest. First the man at the other table, and now this one? What made them think they had the right to grab her any time they wished?
“I don’t think so,” Mr. Brody said mildly. He pulled back his jacket to show the pistol he always wore on his hip. “Let her go, sir, and then kindly leave my establishment.”
The man all but threw Georgia’s wrist out of his grasp. “Might I remind you that I’m a paying customer at this hotel, and you have an obligation to take care of me?”
Mr. Brody shook his head. “You haven’t given me any money yet—that means you’re not a paying customer. And all my obligations ended the moment you touched my waitress. I suggest you excuse yourself and go wait at the train station.” He glanced down at the plate. “I see you’ve eaten almost half your food—I trust you won’t starve to death before you reach Kansas City.”
The man’s face turned yet another shade of red, but he stomped away from the table and out the door. Georgia felt utterly humiliated. She’d heard of Mr. Brody stepping in to protect the waitresses before—he took their safety very seriously—but he’d never had to protect her, and she disliked how weak it must have made her appear.
He touched her shoulder, and she turned to face him.
“It’s all right,” he said, giving her a reassuring smile. “I know full well he was just trying to get a free meal—you’ve done nothing wrong.”
Georgia smiled and nodded, then ducked her head and began clearing the table. If only there was some way to go back and erase the last fifteen minutes.
***
Chet Larsen watched the exchange between Mr. Brody and the pretty waitress as he finished his meal. He’d only been trying to protect the girl, but he could see how his actions might be taken as interference, and he had to admire her determination even if he did think she was being a bit foolish. In his line of work, he’d seen far too many irate men leave bruises on women who displeased them, and he would never be able to stand by and watch it happen right in front of him. But Mr. Brody seemed like a good sort of man and had put the customer out with a minimum of upheaval, so Chet supposed everything was all right now.
The waitress began stacking the dishes on the table, and Chet realized that most of the customers had finished and were heading off toward the train. He hoped the hotel still had a room free—he most likely should have arranged it as soon as he arrived, but he’d been very hungry, and the smells coming from the dining room had a more powerful effect on him than the call of a soft bed.
He wiped his mouth, grabbed his bag from under the table, and walked out into the lobby, where he found a pretty young woman standing behind the counter. “Hello. I’d like a room for a few days, if you have one available.”
“Certainly.” She looked at a ledger that had been placed flat on the counter. “Room four is available for as long as you need, Mr. . . .”
“Larsen. Chet Larsen.”
“I’m glad to meet you, Mr. Larsen. I’m Elizabeth Brody.” She quoted him a room price as well as the cost of the meal he’d just eaten, and he paid with the coins in his waistcoat pocket. Soon he’d have to dip into the emergency money tucked away in his bag—that was the trouble with working one job at a time and then moving on. The money wasn’t always immediate or plentiful.
“Do you need help with any luggage?” Mrs. Brody asked as she handed him a room k
ey.
“I only have the one bag,” he replied, nodding to the satchel he’d set by his feet. “I thank you, though.”
“Please let me know if you need anything, and welcome to the Brody.” She gave him a nod, which he returned before heading up the stairs to find room four.
It was a pleasant room, containing just the few pieces of furniture he’d need to be comfortable. The bed seemed to reach out to him, but he shook off the allure and merely set his bag down before leaving again. There would be time to sleep later. For the moment, he had too much work to do.
***
“Mr. Larsen, is it?” Adam Brody crossed the lobby and met Chet as he descended the stairs. “I was quite glad to learn that you’re staying on with us. I wanted the chance to thank you for standing up for my waitress just now in the dining room.”
“It was nothing,” Chet replied as he accepted the man’s handshake. “I’ve never been able to tolerate that sort of behavior, and I acted impulsively.”
“That’s never a fault when you’re in the right.” Mr. Brody gave a nod. “What brings you to town?”
Hmm. Mr. Brody might be a good resource, and he seemed trustworthy. It wouldn’t hurt anything to have a local on his side. Chet glanced around. “I wonder if you have a room where we might speak privately.”
Mr. Brody quirked an eyebrow, but merely said, “Of course. Follow me.”
Moments later, they were both seated in an office just off the main lobby. Mr. Brody leaned back in his desk chair and steepled his fingers. “You have me all sorts of curious, Mr. Larsen.”
“Hopefully my story will be worth the wait.” Chet reached into his pocket and removed his badge, sliding it across the desk. “I’m with the Pinkerton Detective Agency. I’ve been hired by the Williams and West Gold Company to thwart a robbery that’s rumored to be taking place here on Friday when the train comes through.”
Mr. Brody looked at the badge and nodded before passing it back. “A robbery? How do they know about it?”
“They received an anonymous tip from someone who claimed to be a ‘friend.’ Of course, they realize it could all be a ruse, but they’d rather look into it than not.” Chet shifted on his chair. “My reason for telling you, Mr. Brody, is to ask if you have anyone currently staying at the hotel who seems a bit suspicious, or if you’ve noticed anything odd going on locally. The robbery is supposedly taking place a mile past here, with the robbers hiding out in town until it’s time.”
Mr. Brody shook his head. “I haven’t noticed anything unusual, but I think it’s unlikely that your suspects would stay longer than a day or possibly two. There’s too much risk of discovery.”
“I agree. I believe they’ll most likely arrive tomorrow. I have no idea if they’ll become passengers on the train, or if they’ll ride up alongside on horseback, or even if they’ll attempt to sabotage the rail and stop the train entirely. I plan to keep an eye on things here in town, and then to be a passenger on that train come Friday. A fellow detective is riding it from the west and will meet me on board, and we have others stationed here and there. If this is a real threat, we’ll be prepared.”
Mr. Brody nodded. “I wish you the best of luck, Mr. Larsen. I’m assuming this is a dangerous assignment.”
“It is. These robbers are likely to be heavily armed, and it will fall on us to spot them before they spot us. That will be our best chance of success. This is the only hotel close to the railroad, isn’t it?”
“That’s right. The others are farther into town.”
“I believe this is where I’ll begin my search, then.” Chet came to his feet, and so did Mr. Brody. “I appreciate being allowed to confide in you. I thought it best so you wouldn’t think it odd if you saw me scrutinizing your customers.”
Mr. Brody laughed. “I understand, and thank you for putting me in the know.” He shook Chet’s hand and wished him well.
Chet took a deep breath as he exited the office. Looking for an undetermined number of train robbers in a town that was growing as quickly as Topeka when he didn’t know their arrival date or their exact plans . . . and putting his life in danger while he did so. What a terrible way to earn a paycheck. Too bad he enjoyed the excitement so much.
Chapter Two
Georgia finished hanging the tablecloths on the line, then turned to carry her basket back into the kitchen. She hadn’t expected anyone to be standing directly behind her, and she ran into the solid obstruction with a whoosh of air from her lungs.
“I’m so sorry,” she gasped, thinking it was one of the other waitresses, but it was most certainly not one of the other waitresses. It was a man. The man she’d been eyeing in the dining room. She took another step back, her cheeks on fire. “I didn’t mean to run you over.”
“You didn’t,” he said, a smile on his face. “I’m quite all right. I apologize for startling you. “
“It’s fine,” she replied, trying to regain her composure. “May I help you with something?”
“I hoped to speak with you for a moment, if I might.”
Georgia glanced over to the washtub, where Giselle was watching the two of them while she scrubbed the napkins. She seemed amused, and gave a slight nod.
“I suppose I can be spared,” Georgia replied, knowing full well that Giselle’s nod wasn’t only meant to give permission, but to encourage her to pursue whatever this was. Giselle was her supervisor, but she was also recently married and believed that every girl should be as happy as she was.
“Excellent. Should we go for a walk or sit in the parlor inside? Or is there another suitable place?”
“We could walk through the orchard. There’s a pleasant bench there.”
“Lead the way.”
Georgia set the basket on the edge of the porch, then guided the handsome stranger through the trees. “I should have asked your name before I agreed to this walk. Now if you murder me, I won’t know who to blame,” she said lightheartedly, trying to hide the rush of nerves she felt at being so near him.
He laughed. “That would be a problem indeed. I’m Chet Larsen. And you are?”
“Georgia Baker.”
“Georgia. That’s a lovely name.” He lifted a tree branch, and they both ducked under it. “Are these apple trees?”
“They are. The weather here is so volatile that it’s difficult to cultivate apples, but the previous owner loved them, so he asked around and discovered the best variety for this area. Mr. Brody said that was one of the reasons he bought this place.” She laughed, shaking her head. “He and Tom had a lot of work to do, pruning and cutting out all the dead wood, but now it’s a nice orchard again after several years of neglect.”
“And when will these produce?” he asked, reaching out and touching a leaf with the tip of his finger.
“Not until fall. Until then, we get to enjoy the shade. Here’s the bench.” She took the edge of her apron and flicked off the leaves that had fallen on the seat, then motioned for him to join her.
He took off his hat and set it on his knee. “Thank you for walking out with me. I wanted to see if you were all right after what happened earlier.”
“I’m quite all right, thank you. And I appreciate your concern, but I’ve been yelled at before, and it’s certain to happen again.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Do all your customers speak to you with such foul language? I can’t imagine that being a regular occurrence.”
She smiled. “To be honest, I didn’t hear his exact words. I just knew that he was angry.”
“But he was shouting. Everyone in the dining room heard him.”
“Everyone but me.” She smiled again at his look of confusion. “I’m hard of hearing, Mr. Larsen. If a room is crowded or noisy, I rely on reading lips, and if I can’t see someone’s lips, I have no idea what they’re saying.”
He sat back a little, obviously surprised. “You read lips? That’s incredible! I never would have guessed it. Although, I suppose that does explain how I managed to startle you so
badly a moment ago.”
She laughed. “Yes, it’s easy to sneak up on me. In every other way, though, I’m perfectly adjusted to my new life.”
“Wait—your new life? You weren’t born with this condition?”
“No, I heard just as well as anyone until I was twelve. I fell from the loft in my father’s barn, struck my head, experienced some sort of fit, and lost most of my hearing. The doctor said there must have been some sort of damage and internal bleeding, but without cutting my head open and dissecting my brain, he couldn’t diagnose me precisely. We decided, quite rightly, to accept the diagnosis of apoplexy leading to acute onset of deafness.”
“Considering the rather final method of diagnosis, I think you’re right not to pursue it further,” Mr. Larsen said with a slight chuckle. “I’m rather amazed and impressed by your good humor about the situation.”
“It was a choice between being miserable and being optimistic, and since being miserable wasn’t going to solve anything, I chose the other,” she replied. “I will ask you to keep my little secret, however. Only the Brodys and some of the other waitresses know. I didn’t want anyone to treat me differently because of it.” She looked down at her hands and blushed. “I’m not even sure why I told you. Perhaps you have a way of drawing information out of people.”
“I should hope so. That sort of skill is very useful in my line of work. I’m a Pinkerton detective,” he added when she looked at him inquiringly. “And I’ll ask you to keep that little secret for me, if you would. I’m here on a case, and I need to remain anonymous.”
“A detective? That’s very exciting. Yes, I’ll keep your secret, Mr. Larsen, and then we’ll each have something to hold over the other’s head. I’ve heard that it’s useful to know a little something about your neighbors in case you ever need to blackmail them.”
He laughed again. “Hopefully you and I won’t find that need, Miss Baker. I hope we can be on the best of terms for however long I’m here.”
She was sure he meant absolutely nothing by it, but her heart fluttered a little bit, and she didn’t miss the warmth in his dark brown eyes. “I do too, Mr. Larsen,” she said softly.