A Twisted Fate Read online

  A Twisted Fate

  Kansas Crossroads Book Twelve

  by Amelia C. Adams

  My everlasting thanks to my beta readers—Amy L., Amy P., Cissie, Erin, Jeene, Jen, Jennifer, Mary, Meisje, Nancy A., and Nancy C.

  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

  Epilogue

  Bonus – Chapter One of Accidental Agent

  Chapter One

  Topeka, Kansas

  1876

  Giselle Hardy moved through the dining room at the Brody Hotel, making sure everything was ready for their first train. The spring weather was encouraging more people to travel, and they’d been exceptionally busy lately. This was good for business, of course, but it had thrown things a bit off balance with their waitressing staff.

  Elizabeth would always be there, obviously—as the wife of the hotel owner, that was a given, but she largely took meal payments and helped those customers who also wanted rooms. Harriet tended her own baby and Elizabeth’s nearly one-year-old, and didn’t do much waitressing at all anymore. Ruth and Sarah ran the kitchen. Susan was needed to work at her father’s general store, and her sister Polly had gotten married. This left Nancy Ann, Grace, Hattie, and Georgia, and Hattie had announced just that week that she was leaving to go take care of her elderly aunt.

  Giselle shook her head. She knew Mr. Brody had put another advertisement in the newspaper and more girls would come along soon, but it seemed that this was all they did—hire new waitresses just to lose them again.

  She stepped into the kitchen and said hello to Sarah and Ruth, who were already hard at work. She had just reached out to grab an apron from the hook when she heard a thunk on the porch outside, followed by a knock on the kitchen door.

  “I’ll get it,” she said, noticing that both Sarah and Ruth were up to their elbows in flour. She crossed the room, opened the door, and saw a dead deer lying on the porch.

  What?

  Why would a deer choose to stumble up their porch steps and die right there in front of the door?

  “Morning, miss.”

  The voice startled her, and for the briefest moment, she thought the deer was speaking to her. Then she realized there was a man standing at the foot of the steps.

  “Oh! Good morning. I’m sorry—you startled me.”

  “I apologize.” He swept his hat off his head, revealing a thick head of hair smashed flat by his hat brim and held down with sweat. “My name is Jesse McVey. I’m a hunter, and I’d like to speak with you about purchasing this deer for use in your kitchen.”

  “You put this animal here on the porch?” Of course he did—she’d been silly to think it had chosen that spot to die on its own.

  “I did, ma’am. Killed just an hour ago. You won’t find meat any fresher than that.”

  “No, I wouldn’t, would I?” Giselle braced herself on the doorframe. She’d finally noticed the small trickle of blood running from the deer’s mouth. “We don’t usually get our meat so . . . um . . . well, the eyes and the whole rest of the head and feet and whatnot are usually . . . gone.”

  “I’m sorry, miss. I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just best to travel with the animal intact. If you’d care to purchase it, I’ll skin it and prepare it for you before I go.”

  “I oversee the dining room. I don’t actually run the hotel,” she replied, never happier in her life to be able to turn a task over to someone else. “If you’ll wait here, I’ll get Mrs. Brody.”

  “Of course, miss. I’ll be right here.”

  Giselle stepped back inside and closed the door gently so he wouldn’t feel like she was slamming it in his face, then leaned on the table to catch her breath.

  “Did I hear right? Is there a dead deer outside?” Sarah asked.

  “Yes, yes, there is,” Giselle replied. “And the man who killed it.”

  “Deer would be a nice change.” Ruth looked up from the bread pans she was flouring. “I have a recipe for venison stew that’s really delicious.”

  “I’ll go get Elizabeth,” Giselle said now that her stomach had stopped roiling. “She can decide.”

  Elizabeth was sweeping the entryway when Giselle found her. “There’s a man on the back porch who would like to sell you a dead deer,” she said. “He’ll skin it for you if you want it.”

  Elizabeth looked startled. “A dead deer? On the back porch?”

  “Yes. The whole body. With hooves.”

  Elizabeth leaned the broom against the wall and wiped her hands on her apron. “Well, let’s take a look at it.”

  Minutes later, Elizabeth, Sarah, and Ruth had all gathered around the animal. Tom White had come out of the barn and was looking rather interested in the proceedings. Giselle hung back—she’d already seen everything she wanted to see.

  “A deer this size will produce around one hundred pounds of meat once it’s been separated from the hide and bones,” Mr. McVey was saying. “Some of that meat will be in smaller pieces suitable for stew and meat pies, and some will be just right for steaks. What you don’t use, you can dry out and make into jerky. Have you ever made jerky, ma’am?” he asked Elizabeth.

  “I never have,” she replied, looking a little overwhelmed. Giselle was glad she wasn’t the only one.

  “I have,” Tom said. “I’d be happy to help, if you need it.”

  “How much are you charging?” Elizabeth asked.

  When Mr. McVey named his price, Giselle had no idea if it was high or low—she wasn’t familiar with how much the hotel usually paid for meat. But Elizabeth nodded. “If you’ll prepare it and dispose of the extra . . . hooves and hide and things . . . you have a deal.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll get to work on that right away.”

  Tom grabbed one side of the deer, Mr. McVey grabbed the other, and they dragged it off behind the barn. It was just in time, too, because the whistle for the train blew not thirty seconds later. Giselle did not want their customers seeing a deer get skinned through the dining room windows while they were trying to eat.

  “Are you all right, Giselle?” Elizabeth asked as they moved into the lobby to greet their guests.

  “I’m fine. I mean, my father and brothers used to go hunting all the time and bring home what they got, but they always took care of the unpleasant parts while they were still out in the woods, and they skinned it in the shed out back. I suppose I was rather sheltered that way. I’m not going to faint or anything, I promise.” Giselle was annoyed with herself—this really shouldn’t have bothered her so much. She wasn’t one of those girls who swooned over every little thing—she actually did have backbone. Just not today, apparently.

  “That’s good.” Elizabeth gave her a smile, and as the customers streamed in, Giselle was able to put everything aside and concentrate on her real job.

  ***

  Jesse guided his knife through the meat of the deer. He’d already gutted it in the woods, and then disposed of everything else he felt Mrs. Brody would like him to by digging a hole in the ground and putting it in there. He did worry about dogs sniffing around, but there really wasn’t a lot he could do about that.

  “I’m curious about how you cut the hide.” The blond man who had helped him bring the deer over here was watching, his eyes following Jesse’s every move with interest. “I’ve never seen an animal skinned that way. You nearly got it all
in one piece.”

  “Since Mrs. Brody doesn’t want it, I’ll be taking this hide back to my aunt,” Jesse replied. “She’ll tan it and use it to make clothing or part of a tent.”

  The man’s eyebrow rose. “Like the Indians?”

  “My aunt is an Indian.” Jesse cut another strip of meat, not waiting for a reaction. He’d heard every possible slur, every bit of colorful language that could possibly be leveled at him, and he was used to it. There was nothing this man could say that would anger him. He was beyond that.

  “Really?” He let out a low whistle. “That’s incredible. My name’s Tom White, by the way. I’m the handyman around here. And you are?”

  “Jesse McVey.” He glanced over at Tom White, taken aback by his reaction. Of all the things he’d expected, admiration certainly wasn’t on his list, and yet, that’s what he saw in the man’s eyes.

  “Well, Jesse McVey, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Show me more about how you’re cutting this deer.”

  Jesse showed him how to slice the carcass to create the most steaks, then how to get the rest of the meat for the stews and pies.

  “You haven’t wasted a bit, have you?” Tom looked over his work and shook his head. “That’s a neat job if I’ve ever seen one.”

  “Thanks.” Jesse cleaned his knife on the grass and slid it back into its sheath. Then he looked over the large bowls he’d borrowed from the kitchen, each stacked high with nicely carved steaks. “They do look good.”

  “So you learned how to do all this from your aunt?” Tom asked.

  “She’s actually my father’s second wife—my mother died when I was young. But yes, she showed me how.”

  Tom opened his mouth like he was about to ask something else, but then he closed it again. “I’ll help you carry this up to the kitchen.”

  “Thanks. Let me wash up first.”

  Over at the pump, Jesse scrubbed the blood from his hands and arms, then attempted to dab the splatters off his clothes. That part didn’t work so well, but he did the best he could. Then he and Tom carried the meat up to the kitchen.

  They set the bowls on the table and went back for more. As Jesse set the last of it down, the blonde young woman who had opened the door for him came into the kitchen, took one look at him, slapped her hand over her mouth, and ran from the room. Jesse didn’t know what to do—he felt terrible about it, but he couldn’t go after her. That would only make things worse.

  “She’ll be all right,” Tom said, clapping Jesse’s shoulder. “Don’t worry.”

  Jesse smiled. “I guess not everyone can stand the sight of blood.”

  Mrs. Brody blinked a few times when she saw him, but she didn’t say anything about his appearance. She simply thanked him for the meat and the excellent job he’d done cutting it, handed him the agreed-upon amount, and offered him some coffee.

  “Thanks, ma’am, but I’d better get going. Have a good day.” Jesse exited quickly, bundled up the hide, mounted his horse, and rode off, thankful for the income and equally as thankful to be escaping the eyes of the girl he’d frightened. That hadn’t been pleasant at all.

  Chapter Two

  “I’m so ashamed.” Giselle lifted her head from one of the dining room tables where she had plunked herself and looked at Grace. “I’ve seen blood before—what on earth is wrong with me?”

  “I can’t say that I’d have handled it any better.” Grace patted her arm. “It’s all gone now, though—Tom says there’s not a speck of it in the yard, and everything’s tidy and put away in the kitchen. And we have piles of deer steaks to offer the next train.”

  The next train . . . it would be arriving before long, and Giselle had to be ready for it. She couldn’t afford to be sitting there nursing her wounded sensibilities when they had a dining room to run. She took a sip of water and nodded, trying to see the positive in this situation. “Did Elizabeth decide what we’re charging?”

  “She said a dollar fifty for a steak and mashed potatoes.”

  Giselle nodded. Even with as muddled as her brain felt at that moment, she could remember that.

  The whistle blew for the third train of the day. The first and second had come and gone while Mr. McVey was carving up the deer. The girls fell into position just inside the door, greeting their guests and leading them to their tables. A pleased murmur arose in the dining room as news of the deer steaks spread—they were calling it venison to sound a little more polite—and Ruth and Sarah were kept busy grilling them up. Thankfully, they’d started cooking them as soon as they were brought in from outside, so several were already prepared.

  “I can’t say as that I’ve ever had venison before,” one woman said. She wore a velvet traveling suit and looked displeased with everyone and everything around her. “It does smell as though it might be tolerable, though. I’ll try that.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Giselle replied. “And for you, sir?”

  The woman’s husband pursed his lips, which looked funny under his walrus mustache. “I’ll have the same. I suppose one can’t travel through the wilderness and expect much by way of fine dining, can one?”

  Giselle’s hackles immediately rose, but she pushed down her feelings and tried to respond politely. “Our cooks are very talented, sir. I’m sure you’d be pleased with whatever you ordered. If the venison doesn’t suit, we also have roast chicken today.”

  “No, no, that’s fine,” he said, waving her off. “We’ll just make do until we reach Denver.”

  Giselle took a deep breath as she walked into the kitchen. “Two servings of backwoods heathen food, please,” she said, and Sarah looked at her curiously.

  “Apparently, our little kitchen isn’t good enough for the likes of them.” Giselle nodded toward the dining room. “We’re too much in the wilderness or something, and they can’t wait until they get to Denver.”

  “I’ve been to Denver, and I didn’t find it all that impressive,” Sarah replied. She placed the dishes on Giselle’s tray, then paused. “Don’t take it too much to heart, Giselle. They’ve probably never traveled through here before and they don’t know what to expect.”

  “She’s kinder than I am,” Ruth said. “I’d go out there and tell them they can get right back on that train if they’re going to be so high and mighty.”

  “I just feel protective of the Brody—I’ll be fine,” Giselle said, taking her tray and delivering the plates to the correct table. They all worked hard to make this place the best it could possibly be, and it was disheartening to hear anyone speak unkindly of it.

  The rest of the meal went smoothly, the man and woman at Giselle’s table seemed somewhat mollified by their meal, and the girls got everything cleaned up as quickly as they could, considering that they were shorthanded. Then Giselle flopped into a chair in the most unladylike way possible and exhaled.

  “Are you all right?”

  She turned at the sound of the soft feminine voice behind her. A brunette girl of possibly eighteen stood there clutching the handles of a bag, looking uncertain. “My name is Carrie Laurence,” she said. “Mr. Brody said I should come find you. He’s given me a job here. Are you feeling well? You seemed a bit down just now.”

  Giselle stood up. “I’m fine. It’s just been an interesting day. I’m glad to meet you, Carrie. Where are you from?”

  “Kansas City. I saw the advertisement and decided to give it a try.” She lifted a shoulder.

  “Come upstairs with me and I’ll show you where the waitresses sleep. We’ve lost several lately, so you’ll be very welcome here.”

  Giselle got Carrie situated and asked her to come downstairs in thirty minutes to discuss her duties, then headed back down herself. When she reached the lobby, she saw a young man standing near the counter, auburn hair curled around his ears, wearing a crisp white shirt.

  “May I help you?” she asked.

  He smiled. “It’s me, miss—Jesse McVey, from earlier. With the deer.”

  She blinked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t recogniz
e you without the blood all over your clothes.” Oh, gracious. That sounded just awful. “I mean, you’re all clean now.” That wasn’t much better.

  “Yes, ma’am. When I’ve been out hunting, I tend to get a bit dirty. I thought I’d freshen up and come back to apologize. You seemed upset when I saw you last.”

  Heat flooded her cheeks. “I wasn’t upset, really. I was . . .”

  “Ill?”

  “Yes.” She might as well just admit it. No sense in trying to preserve her pride—especially when in this instance, it was fake. “I’m the one who should be apologizing to you. Running away like that . . . well, I’m not usually so rude.”

  He grinned. “I’ll accept your apology if you’ll accept mine.”

  “Done.” She gestured toward the dining room. “Sarah made up some apple pie for the next train, and I’m sure we’ll have more than enough. Will you come have a piece with me?”

  He glanced around, suddenly seeming uncomfortable. “Are you sure?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be sure?”

  “No reason. Yes, I’d like that.”

  He followed her back to the dining room, and she went into the kitchen and cut two slices of pie. Then she joined him.

  “The train will be here soon, so I won’t get to visit very long, but I did want to tell you that our customers enjoyed the venison. We received several compliments.”

  “Thank you. Did you try it?”

  She hesitated. She had decided to be honest with him—that hadn’t changed, even if it was embarrassing. “I actually didn’t,” she said after a long minute. “Seeing it . . . that way . . . I thought I’d have something else instead.”

  She feared that he’d be offended, but instead, he laughed. “You should see your face right now. It’s like you’re reliving the whole thing.”

  “I am,” she replied. “The eyes and everything—yes, that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

  “I’m sorry.” He immediately became sober. “I shouldn’t tease.”

  “Maybe you should. I’ve been a silly goose, and I deserve it.”

  He smiled and looked down at the table, then back up. “I wonder if I might come back a week from this Saturday night and take you for a walk.”