The Dark and the Dawn (Kansas Crossroads Book 3) Read online

  The Dark and the Dawn

  Kansas Crossroads Book Three

  by Amelia C. Adams

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  Dedicated to everyone who has walked through the dark—know that dawn will come.

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  I’d like to thank my beta readers for their support and encouragement: Bobbie Sue, Cindy, Cissie, Kristi, Kristen, Lachele, Nancy, Penny, and Tracy. You ladies are fantastic!

  I’d also like to thank the members of my street team: Bobbie Sue, Carol Ann, Cindy, Cissie, Eileen, Jean, Kristen, Melissa, Penny, Tina, Terri, and Tracy. Thanks for everything you do for me—your support means so much!

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  Chapter One

  Topeka, Kansas 1875

  Jeanette Peterson stood against the wall of the hotel lobby, trying to stay out of the way. The wedding party hadn’t been large, but there were just enough people milling around the confined space that she felt uncomfortable. She’d never been like her older sister, Abigail, able to hold her own wherever she was. She had often wished she could melt into her surroundings and go completely unnoticed altogether, but she had to be brave now. She’d made a promise to her friend Harriet, and to herself, that she would speak to Dr. Wayment as soon as possible, and there really was no better time.

  “I’d best be on my way now, but thank you for inviting me to the wedding,” Dr. Wayment said, shaking hands with Tom White and giving Harriet a kiss on the cheek. Jeanette had been waiting for this moment for hours, and now that it had arrived, her heart pounded. What if she didn’t have the courage to do this?

  “Shall I help you carry Tom’s wheelchair back upstairs before I go?” Dr. Wayment asked.

  “No, we’ve got it,” Mr. Brody said, also shaking the doctor’s hand. Jeanette edged toward the door, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible, but as soon as Dr. Wayment stepped outside, she followed him, forcing herself into action.

  “Doctor?” she called out as she descended the porch steps, her braid flipping over her shoulder with her movement.

  He turned, his horse’s reins in his hand. “Yes, Miss Peterson? Is everything all right?”

  “Everything’s fine,” she said. There was still time to change her mind, wasn’t there? She could wish him a good evening and send him on his way. But no—she would never forgive herself if she did that. It was time to speak, to make a choice for her own life and her own future instead of waiting to hear what everyone else thought she should do.

  “Are you feeling well? You’ve suddenly gone very pale.” Dr. Wayment reached out to touch her forehead, but she flinched away from his hand. He was too close.

  “I’m quite all right,” she said. “I would like to ask you a question, though.”

  “It must be quite the question to have you looking so upset. Out with it, and let’s put you to rights.”

  Jeanette took a deep breath and held it for a moment. “I’d like to know how one goes about becoming a nurse,” she blurted. She squeezed her eyes tight, not wanting to see his reaction. When he didn’t speak, she opened one eye and then the other to find him looking at her curiously.

  “Well, it all depends,” he said, resting one foot on the step of his buggy and leaning back against the side. “Most of the nurses currently in practice have had no formal training, meaning to say that they were instructed by the doctors they work for. An actual nursing school is rather a new development in the medical profession, and for many women, not practical.” He tilted his head to the side and seemed to consider her. “I’ve often wondered if having a nurse would be helpful, and I’d be willing to give it a try. You’ve been very useful to me in Tom’s case.”

  Jeanette’s breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she couldn’t even speak. “Really, sir? I could come work for you?” she finally forced out. This was more than she had even hoped for. She’d thought he might recommend some books for her to read, or pat her on the head and send her away. “When would you like me to start?”

  Dr. Wayment chuckled and held up a hand. “Before we make any plans, I think you’d better talk this over with your current employers. You wouldn’t want to leave them understaffed, would you?”

  Jeanette’s face flamed. In the excitement of the moment, she hadn’t even considered what this might mean for the hotel. “I’ll speak to them right away.”

  “Excellent. After you’ve done that, come see me in my office, and we’ll make the proper arrangements. Good night, Miss Peterson.” He tipped his hat, then climbed into his buggy. “Would you like me to see you back inside?” he asked as an afterthought, as he was already seated.

  “No, that’s all right. The porch is just over there.” She gestured behind herself. “Good night, Dr. Wayment.”

  Almost forgetting to breathe, she turned and walked back into the hotel. That had gone better than all her wildest hopes put together, but now she had to talk to Mr. Brody. That might prove to be even more difficult than speaking to the doctor.

  ***

  Jeanette slipped into the dining room and began clearing the dishes, hoping that no one had noticed her absence. The other girls were laughing and chatting, still full of excitement from the wedding, and she breathed a sigh of relief. They all seemed distracted, and not likely to care where she’d been.

  She carried a stack of cake plates into the kitchen and scraped them, then set them in the washtub to soak. It was Olivia’s turn tonight. After Jeanette finished gathering up napkins and tablecloths, she took off her apron, smoothed her hair, and went to find Mr. Brody. Her hands trembled, and she wished she could think of another task that needed to be done—anything to delay this awkward conversation. But the other girls had the cleanup well underway, and she couldn’t go back to being a coward—not when she’d come so far by talking to Dr. Wayment.

  Mr. Brody stood by the front door, shaking hands with Pastor Osbourne and thanking him for the lovely wedding service. Jeanette waited quietly, her hands tucked behind her back, her heart beating so hard, she wondered if she was about to faint. Then the door closed behind the pastor, and Mr. Brody turned.

  “Hello, Miss Peterson. I trust you had a good time at the wedding.”

  “I did. Thank you, sir.” She swallowed and then opened her mouth again to speak, but found that no sound would come out.

  He looked at her curiously. “Is something wrong?”

  “May . . . may I speak with you for a minute, sir?”

  “Of course. Is this a private conversation?”

  “I believe that would be best.”

  He nodded and then opened the door to his office, ushering her inside. She stood in front of his desk, expecting him to walk around behind it and take his usual seat, but instead, he took one of the smaller chairs near the door and invited her to be seated as well. She wasn’t sure if this informality made her feel more at ease or more nervous.

  “What can I do for you, Miss Peterson?” he asked. “I should let you know, I’ve had two slices of cake and I’m in an exceptionally good mood, so you’ve chosen a good time to ask for it, whatever it is.”

  Jeanette looked down at the floor. He had been so kind to her, and she hated to say or do anything that would make her seem ungrateful. “Have you ever had a dream, Mr. Brody? I don’t mean the kind you have when you’re asleep, but something that excites you and fills you with hope and possibilities?”

  She saw him nod out of the corner of her eye, and that gave her the courage to look up and meet his gaze. “I’ve had several dreams in my life, Miss Peterson. You’ve been witness to three of my most recent.”

  “The hotel?” she guessed.

  “The hotel, and finding a wonde
rful woman to be my wife, and now I’m the father of a beautiful baby girl. Granted, the baby came along a lot quicker than I had originally anticipated, but I’m certainly not complaining.” He chuckled. “Yes, Miss Peterson, I know well the power of dreams. Without them, we just endure.” He leaned forward and looked her in the eye. “What is your dream, Miss Peterson?”

  She wasn’t used to being scrutinized so intently, and she dropped her gaze again. “I’d like to become a nurse.”

  “A nurse? I think you’d do very well in that field. But does this mean we’re losing you at the Brody?”

  “That’s . . . that’s where things become difficult, sir. Dr. Wayment has agreed to let me train under him, but I’d still need a place to live, and the Brody is my home now. I have nowhere else to go. Is it possible for me to keep working here just enough to pay for my room and board? Of course I wouldn’t take any additional wages. A place to stay would be enough for me.”

  Mr. Brody nodded slowly a few times. “I was just discussing this very thing with Elizabeth—we need to advertise for at least one more girl. We could make it two, and replace you for meal service while retaining you for laundry and the like. Elizabeth tells me you’re very skilled with an iron.”

  Jeanette blushed. “I don’t think ironing is a skill, sir.”

  “Oh, I disagree. I disagree entirely. Have you ever seen me do it?” He paused until she shook her head. “Then I rest my case.” He crossed his legs the other way and nodded again. “I’m willing to work this out, Miss Peterson. Working at the hotel is a fine occupation, but you’re right to seek more. You should never deny yourself the chance to learn and to expand yourself. I heartily approve.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Brody. Oh, thank you.” Jeanette pressed her hands to her mouth for a moment. “I wish . . . I wish my father could have seen things the way you do. He never understood the need for education, especially when it came to his daughters. He didn’t believe that women were capable of being educated.”

  Mr. Brody snorted. “And that is a shame to be sure, Miss Peterson. In fact, the cleverest people I know are women. Take, for instance, my new wife. She astonishes me daily with her insights, things I never would have even dreamed. And my aunt? She runs this place—I’m merely the figurehead. I feel sorry for your father and all he couldn’t experience because of his lack of understanding.”

  He pounded his knee with the side of his fist. “I’ll place the advertisement first thing in the morning. Would you do me a favor, though, Miss Peterson? Can you wait until we’ve replaced you in the dining room? What with Miss Martin—er, the new Mrs. White—now having the responsibility of taking care of her husband, we were already understaffed, and I’d hate to see us fall any more behind. If we did, I’d have to start serving, and I’d look quite foolish in an apron.”

  Jeanette giggled, the tension of the last several minutes draining from her. “Yes, sir. I’ll wait. I’ll speak to Dr. Wayment and let him know. In the meantime, I hope you don’t mind if I pray for my replacement to come soon. I love working here—you’ve been the kindest employer I could have ever imagined—but I do want to start learning medicine.”

  “It never occurred to me to pray for new employees,” Mr. Brody said. “Do you think it would work?”

  “I certainly see no harm in trying,” she replied.

  “Then maybe I should give it a go.” He stood and reached out to shake her hand. “You’ve been a very valuable asset to the hotel, Miss Peterson, and I’m glad we still have you in some capacity, at least.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’ll do my best to maintain the proper balance.”

  “I don’t think that will be entirely possible. I fear that before too long, the excitement of carbuncles and wart removal surgery will outweigh the joys of washing and ironing, and you’ll want nothing to do with us whatsoever. When that day comes, we’ll wish you all the best, with no hard feelings.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Brody.” She turned to go, but paused. “I wonder if you wouldn’t mind keeping this between us for the time being. I’d like to tell Abigail myself, but I don’t have the words quite yet.”

  “I hope it’s all right if I tell Elizabeth,” Mr. Brody said. “We’re still newlyweds, so I have a frightening compulsion to tell her everything. I’m assuming it will wear off in time.”

  Jeanette laughed. “Of course, tell Elizabeth. I wouldn’t dream of asking you to keep anything from her.”

  “Then you have my word. Abigail will not hear it from me or anyone else.”

  “Thank you. Good night, sir.”

  “Good night, Miss Peterson.”

  Jeanette stepped out into the lobby and exhaled. How could it be that things were falling into place so easily? Dr. Wayment had been agreeable, Mr. Brody had given her his blessing, and it seemed as though her path was being paved right under her feet. Abigail . . . Jeanette sighed. Abigail would be happy for her, she had no doubt. Her sister would never stand in her way, especially when she understood that this was something Jeanette badly wanted. But doing something this frightening without her sister? That’s what truly worried Jeanette. Abigail had always given her strength. What if she wasn’t strong enough to do this on her own?

  Chapter Two

  Phillip Wayment leaned back in his desk chair and rubbed his eyes. Tom White’s chart was finally up-to-date, with notation upon notation about the carbolic acid treatment he’d undergone and now his progression to a wheelchair. The whole thing had been nothing short of miraculous, and Phillip had felt like an instrument in the hands of a much greater being while he worked. He wasn’t a particularly religious man, but experiences like this made him wonder if he should be questioning his position on that matter.

  He glanced around his office. Mrs. Hadley, his housekeeper, did her best to keep him tidy and organized, and he did his best to disrupt all her schedules and systems. It wasn’t on purpose—when someone came in the middle of the night and needed him, he could hardly pause to close all the drawers and keep the papers undisturbed as he grabbed the things he would need on his way out the door. He tried to respect her wishes, but when it came right down to it, a baby would always take precedence over an organized desk. Mrs. Hadley would just have to come to terms with the disorganization that went along with working for him.

  His thoughts flickered to Miss Peterson. She was a very tidy person, and perhaps she could help keep things where they ought to be. He’d tried to teach Mrs. Hadley his system, but she would have none of it. Miss Peterson, on the other hand, seemed agreeable and flexible. Between the two women, surely some sort of arrangement could be reached to where everything could be well kept and he could still find those articles on the proper removal of snake venom from the bloodstream.

  On the other hand, would Miss Peterson be likely to get underfoot? He frowned. The last thing he needed was someone hovering at his elbow, being in his way if he took a step back to fetch something or to adjust the patient on the cot. He’d once had a cat, but he’d gotten rid of it because he couldn’t tolerate the way it would curl around his ankles. A doctor had to be able to act quickly, and any impediment was not to be borne. A cat was bad enough, but a woman? Impossible. She’d be several times larger, and while he doubted she’d curl around his ankles, she would be very much in the way.

  He rubbed his eyes again. Had he made a rather large mistake in agreeing to let her work for him? He liked his solitary life, his independence. She might make things very difficult for him. Perhaps . . . perhaps he should talk to her and explain that this wasn’t going to work after all. She had a good job at the hotel—she wouldn’t be destitute if he sent her away, and it wasn’t as if he was going to pay her. This was an apprenticeship, nothing more—not a job, not a position. It was most likely just a whim, anyway. Yes, he would speak with her and tell her it was no longer possible, that he’d been a little lightheaded from the wedding punch and wasn’t sure what he was saying. The fact that the punch hadn’t seemed to contain alcohol shouldn’t be important, should
it?

  He reached out and turned off his kerosene lamp, then rose and stretched. It was far later than his preferred bedtime, but he’d wanted to update Tom’s charts while the information was still fresh in his mind. Tom had seemed to take to the wheelchair instantly, managing to scoot himself around his bedroom with very little assistance. As long as the extension was kept on the front of the chair to hold his leg straight, the bone should heal as it ought. He’d given Tom very strict instructions about his levels of activity, and now it remained to be seen if his patient could stay within those boundaries. Tom White was never made to stay in one spot. He was a doer.

  Phillip climbed the stairs to his room and sank onto the edge of his bed, then bent over to unlace his shoes. Four births this month, one that had resulted in the death of the mother and the child. A man with a tumor in his eye. Another man who had been shot clean through his shoulder. Thankfully, Phillip wasn’t the only doctor in Topeka, but everyone on this end of town came to him, and he often treated patients who had become ill while riding on the train as well. At times, he felt all alone in his pursuit. Perhaps a nurse would be helpful—he shook his head. No. Miss Peterson would be in the way. He’d rather continue to work on his own. Having made this decision, he drifted off to sleep.

  ***

  Pounding on the door awakened Phillip some time later. He grabbed his pocket watch and his shoes as he raced down the stairs—it was four o’clock, and this was the precise reason why he’d taken to sleeping in his trousers. It never failed but that as soon as he’d changed into nightclothes, someone would come to fetch him, and he’d lose precious minutes making sure he was decent. It just wasn’t worth it.

  “Dr. Wayment,” the man on his porch gasped, clinging to the doorframe. “My daughter. She’s in terrible pain, vomiting blood. Please come.”

  Phillip grabbed his bag and took just a moment to fasten his shoes before following the man out onto the street. There was no one else around—even the saloon was dark and quiet.