A Narrow Road (Kansas Crossroads Book 8) Read online

  She motioned behind her. “May I offer you a slice of pie, Mr. Watkins?”

  Gracious and generous and beautiful? All those things in one woman? “I wish I could stay, but I have to get back.”

  “Another time, then? I’d very much like to give you some sort of thanks.”

  “Yes, another time—I’ll stop in when I’m in town again. Good day, Miss Smith.” Wade nodded, then turned and walked out of the Brody. Oh, how he wished he wasn’t in a hurry. He wouldn’t mind sharing a slice of pie with that young lady.

  The ride back out to the ranch passed quickly. His horse knew the way even better than he did, so he let the reins go a little slack and allowed the animal to pick its own path along the road, which was rutted by passing wheels. The horse stepped carefully so as not to wrench a leg in those ruts.

  The sky was almost full dark before he reached his destination, the bunkhouse of the ranch where he’d worked for the last year. He unsaddled the horse, brushed it down, and got it settled for the night in the barn, then stepped over to the pump and splashed water all over his head and neck. It had been a long, hot day, and he was eager to call an end to it. He smiled as he walked into the bunkhouse, thinking about Miss Smith. She was the one part of the day he’d look back on fondly.

  “’Bout time you made it back,” Old Sully called out from the corner where he sat whittling on a stick. “Figured you’d fallen in a gulch or something.”

  “There aren’t any gulches between here and town,” Wade replied, tossing his hat onto his bed.

  “That’s what made it even more suspicious.”

  “I had some business to take care of. And I’m not that late.” Wade sat on the edge of his bunk and pulled off his boots. He wouldn’t have been surprised if a pound of dust fell out of each.

  “Late enough that Higgins has been asking about you.”

  Wade tried not to roll his eyes. Their foreman was something else—thinking he had a lot more power than he really did. Mr. Barker was the owner of the Lazy Q, not Higgins.

  “He seems to think you should have been back half an hour ago.”

  “He can think whatever he wants. Truth is, we all know Mr. Barker told us to take the evening off after we got that shipment on the train.” Wade glanced around the bunkhouse. “Looks to me like more’n half the men aren’t back yet.”

  “And everyone one of ’em are going to hear about it.” Sully shook his head. “One of these days, Barker’ll wise up. In the meantime, we’re stuck or we quit.”

  Wade set his boots at the foot of his bunk and stretched out. “Any word on Ruth?”

  “Not yet, and I hope they don’t find her. Any life she leads from here on out has to be better than what she was getting on the Lazy Q.”

  “I’m inclined to agree.” Wade, Sully, and a few other men had done what they could to protect their little cook from the foreman, but they couldn’t be there every minute, and it was just as well that she’d taken off. That didn’t stop Wade from being concerned, though, and he hoped she’d found a decent place to land.

  “So, what did you do with your evening?” Sully asked, turning his stick over and starting on the other side. Wade had no idea what he was making—he rarely did.

  “Went over to the Brody Hotel and apologized to one of their waitresses for plowing her over. One of the steers veered off course and decided to pay her a visit, and I had to turn him.”

  “Sour-faced old biddy, I’m guessing?”

  “Anything but.” Wade allowed himself a smile as he thought about Miss Smith. “Soft, gentle. Very pretty. Makes me wonder why she isn’t married. Far too few women out here to be running around unattached.”

  “Probably got scared off by all the lonely men wanting a little attention.” Sully stood up and limped his way over to the small fireplace in the corner of the bunkhouse, where he threw on another log. The night was a bit chilly, and Wade guessed autumn was right around the corner.

  “Leg poorly tonight?”

  “No worse than it usually is after a day like today. Night, Wade.”

  Moments later, the sound of Sully’s deep breathing filled the room, and an hour or so after that, the other men made quite a ruckus as they came back and got ready for bed. Wade wasn’t bothered by any of it, as he couldn’t sleep anyway. Sully’s comment about lonely men had struck a little too close to home. Wade had always considered himself a pretty solitary fellow, and happy to be that way, but as of late, he’d started thinking about settling down, finding a wife, building a little cabin somewhere. He shook his head in the darkness. Foolish thinking, all of it.

  Chapter Three

  The next morning’s train brought two surprises. The first was a pretty dark-haired girl who introduced herself as Nancy Ann Morgan, and the other was a blonde who went by Grace McAllister. They explained to Margaret that they’d both read the newspaper advertisement and happened to meet up on the train. She was more than happy to send them in to meet with Mr. Brody.

  After the meal service was finished, Mr. Brody introduced the new girls to the rest of the staff, and Giselle took them upstairs to get them settled in. Margaret helped strip the tables and reset them, then collapsed into one of the chairs. Elizabeth chuckled as she passed by, her arms full of linens.

  “Tired?”

  “Quite. I had three rooms to make up this morning. Not that I’m complaining—I’m glad things are going so well for the hotel. I’m just eager for these new girls to get trained.”

  “As am I.”

  Margaret hadn’t stirred from her spot yet when she heard a man’s voice behind her. “Miss Smith?”

  She came to her feet and whirled around so quickly, she nearly knocked her chair over. She reached out and caught it before it clattered to the floor, her cheeks bright red from embarrassment. “Mr. Watkins! Hello. It’s good to see you again.”

  Mr. Watkins held his hat between his two hands, fiddling with the brim. “I hope you don’t mind that I came back so soon. I was sent into town after some supplies, and I couldn’t get the thought of pie out of my mind.”

  Margaret smiled. “If you like, I can offer you more than pie. I was just about to eat my lunch before heading off to my next task. Will you join me? My treat. It’s the least I can do.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t imagine asking you to pay for my lunch, Miss Smith. Not after it was my fault that steer nearly ran you down.”

  “Then I’ll pay for it.” Mr. Brody walked into the dining room and clapped Mr. Watkins on the shoulder. “In appreciation for what you did for Margaret.”

  “Thank you. That’s mighty kind of you.” Mr. Watkins bobbed his head.

  “Adam Brody. Your name, sir?”

  “Wade Watkins.”

  “Sit down and order whatever you like, Mr. Watkins, and not a cent of it will come out of Margaret’s pay.” Mr. Brody winked at Margaret. “You’ll certainly have a pleasant lunch companion.” He walked off toward the kitchen, whistling as he went.

  Giselle showed up at the table not five seconds later, all business. “What can I get for the two of you?”

  “You don’t need to take our order,” Margaret protested. “I can dish up our food easily.”

  Giselle shook her head. “You’d pass up the chance to have the dining room all to yourself, with a private wait staff and everything? Enjoy it while it lasts, because you know we have things to do.”

  Margaret sighed. “You’re right. It is rather never-ending, isn’t it? I’ll have the roast beef and potatoes, please, and a slice of peach pie.”

  Giselle gave a nod. “Excellent choice. And for you, sir?”

  Mr. Watson seemed a bit uncomfortable. “I wonder if you have any corn bread.”

  “We do. Would you like that with beans or stew?”

  “Stew, please. And what sorts of pie do you have?”

  “Right now, we have peach and cherry. Sarah’s making some apple right now, but that won’t be done for a bit.”

  “Cherry’s fine.”
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  “I’ll be right back with your orders.” Giselle bobbed a curtsy and headed back into the kitchen.

  “I can’t say as that I’ve ever had my order taken here,” Margaret said, smoothing her napkin over her knee. “I usually just grab whatever’s handy in the kitchen and eat in there.”

  “Must be a nice change for you, then. This is a very pleasant dining room.” Mr. Watkins looked around with appreciation.

  “Thank you. We work hard to keep it up to Mr. Brody’s standards. He’s from New York, you see, and things are different there.” Margaret affected a snooty air and looked down her nose. “Everything must be perfect in New York.”

  “Is Mr. Brody very . . .” Mr. Watson motioned, indicating Margaret’s little act.

  “Oh, no. I don’t mean to give that impression. He’s very down to earth and friendly. He just has exacting standards, and I for one am glad. I like working in such a tidy environment.”

  Mr. Watkins nodded again. Margaret noticed the line on his forehead where his hat had rubbed a mark. He was a handsome man, his face a bit weathered from his hours out of doors. He had dark hair and kind brown eyes, and she sensed coiled-up energy in him, as though he hated sitting still for any length of time.

  “What you said, about it being your fault the steer came after me—I hope you aren’t blaming yourself for that. I’m sure all the animals were frightened and didn’t know what they were doing.”

  “You’re very kind, Miss Smith. I’m just glad it all turned out well.”

  “Please, call me Margaret. I insist—once you’ve pushed me into the dirt, we know each other far too well to be formal.”

  He smiled, and little creases appeared at the corners of his eyes. She liked that—they made him look even friendlier. “And I’m Wade.”

  Giselle brought their food and arranged it on the table in front of them. “Enjoy your meal, and let me know if you need anything else.” She flashed Margaret a grin before returning to the kitchen.

  “This looks wonderful.” Wade picked up his spoon and lifted a chunk of potato to his mouth. “And it tastes wonderful, too.” He nodded toward the kitchen. “Now I know why some of the men talk about the Brody the way they do—I haven’t eaten this well in days.”

  “Have you been out with the cattle much, then?”

  “Not so much lately—it’s just that we lost our cook recently.”

  Margaret lifted an eyebrow. He couldn’t be talking about Ruth, could he? She’d said she came from a ranch just outside of town, where she’d worked in the kitchen . . . No. That would be too much of a coincidence. But at the same time, it was even a bigger coincidence to think that there could be two ranches nearby with missing cooks.

  “Oh? What happened?” She tried to sound casual.

  Wade instantly seemed uncomfortable again. “She was young, and I think the living didn’t suit her.” He didn’t say anything else, taking another bite instead, and Margaret was even more curious. Ruth was young—that part fit. And most ranches seemed to have male cooks, so it would be quite unusual for two ranches in the area to have female cooks. She settled it in her mind—Ruth had run away from Wade’s ranch. But there was a greater mystery to be solved here.

  “She was young, was she? Pretty?”

  Wade lifted a shoulder. “Pretty, yes, and a fair cook. Nothing like this, though.” He took another bite.

  Well, that hadn’t given Margaret much information. Maybe she should be directing her questions at Ruth, not Wade. But was it really her right to pry? Ruth had a new job now, and no one could make her go back to the ranch, could they? She ignored the little voice in the back of her head that very much wanted to know if the man sitting across the table from her was the man who had scared Ruth away. He was a stranger—she didn’t have any call to be wondering about his private life now that Ruth was safe.

  They finished their meal in near silence. Margaret could tell by the way Wade was acting that he felt as awkward as she did. When she took her last bite and announced that she needed to get back to work, he stood up quickly and grabbed his hat from the chair where he’d placed it.

  “Thank you for the meal,” he said, giving her a little bow that she found charming. “I appreciate it.” Then he was gone.

  Margaret stared at the doorway for a moment, wondering what on earth had just happened. He’d certainly left in a hurry—but perhaps that was all for the best. If he was the man who had been bothering Ruth, she didn’t want anything more to do with him anyway. Charm notwithstanding.

  ***

  Wade strode down the hallway and toward the lobby of the hotel. Talking about Ruth had brought back the memory of the night he’d walked into the kitchen to find her struggling with Higgins in the corner, her cheek red from where he’d hit her. He’d never been so angry in his life, never came so close to killing a man. Even now, his temper flared, and he needed a few minutes to calm himself down. He hoped Margaret hadn’t noticed anything amiss.

  Mr. Barker was a fair boss, but he was also a businessman, and Higgins had made the ranch profitable. When it came down to the value of the foreman or the cook—who had gone missing the next day—Mr. Barker felt he had no choice but to let the matter drop. He had agreed to send out some inquiries to look for Ruth and hear her side of the story, but Wade guessed that had been half-hearted at best. If something didn’t make money, it didn’t get much of Mr. Barker’s attention, and that angered Wade even further. Money was nice to have, but if it took you away from the real joys of life, what good was it?

  As he walked through the lobby toward the door, he paused when he heard Margaret’s name drift from the parlor off to the side, where two of the waitresses were dusting.

  “I heard that Margaret was wanted for her husband’s murder,” one of them said, and the other one gasped.

  “Murder? Are you sure? I can’t believe it. She seems so kind.”

  The first girl nodded. “That’s what I heard.”

  Wade continued walking, his head suddenly pounding. Surely there was some kind of mistake. He’d met a murderer before, and there was something cold and evil in that man’s eyes. There was nothing like that about Margaret. But then again, he’d only met her the day before, and they hadn’t spoken much at all. Could he really judge what she was like? And a good slice of pie was bound to color his opinion anyway, wasn’t it?

  He chuckled to himself as he climbed on his horse. It was time to pick up those supplies and get back out to the Lazy Q. He’d wasted enough time as it was.

  Chapter Four

  “Mr. Hoover just read me the telegram,” Mr. Brody announced as he walked into the hotel lobby the next morning. “We’re to expect four trains a day starting tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” Elizabeth cast a desperate look at Margaret. “Why weren’t we told sooner? Surely they couldn’t have made this decision just today.”

  “Apparently, this has been in the works for a while, but they just now told the station managers,” Mr. Brody replied. “Don’t worry, my dear. We’ll give it a try, and if we can’t keep up, we can modify what we’re doing. Trial and error is what it will take, but if we approach it with good humor, we’ll come out all right regardless.”

  “You’re right—I’m sure you are. It’s just a frightening thought.” Elizabeth smiled bravely. “Margaret, why don’t you and I go into the kitchen and discuss this with Sarah? We’ll need to make a shopping list, and I do hope the general store has what we need in stock. Otherwise, we’ll have to get creative until the next shipment.”

  Margaret followed Elizabeth into the kitchen, where Sarah was teaching Ruth how to make flakier pie crusts. Sarah’s face nearly turned as white as her flour when she heard the news.

  “Two more trains? Starting tomorrow?” She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again. “Well, it’s a good thing Ruth has kitchen experience. I’d like to cut back to a simpler menu until we see just how many new customers we can expect, if that’s all right.”

  “Of cours
e. Whatever you need to do—I’m rather terrified myself.” Elizabeth turned to Margaret. “How are you on the rooms?”

  “Two are occupied, and the rest stand ready. Nancy Ann is very quick at making up fresh beds, and Grace seems to have a knack for laundry—thank goodness. I thought we were going to drown in dirty tablecloths.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “Very good. Mr. Brody has placed an order for the additional things we requested, and now we just need those extra waitresses. I don’t want to run you girls ragged.”

  “It may be a little late for that,” Margaret said with a chuckle.

  “I know, and I’m sorry. We’ll figure this out one way or another.” Elizabeth took a deep breath and then exhaled. “I’ll go put Rose down for her nap, and then we’ll get the shopping done. Sarah, do you think you could have a list to me in an hour?”

  Sarah nodded, and Elizabeth bustled off down the hall.

  “Two more trains?” Sarah gave the pastry dough an extra thwack with her rolling pin. “Let’s talk about something cheerier. I noticed you having lunch with someone interesting yesterday, Margaret.”

  Margaret’s cheeks instantly heated up. “It was nothing, really.” She particularly didn’t want to discuss it in front of Ruth—that would certainly be uncomfortable. “What will you serve for the next few days? I’ll help you with that list.”

  Sarah gave her a curious look, but seemed to understand that she didn’t want to talk about it. “Corn bread and beans, definitely. Stew and fresh wheat bread. Apple pie is a must, and the spice cake too, I think. Oh, and chicken and dumplings. Do you think that’s enough to choose from—three meals and two desserts?”

  Margaret pursed her lips. “It’s rather limited, but I agree that’s best. It would be foolish to try to make everything for twice as many people until we see what we should really expect.” She glanced over at Ruth, who hadn’t seemed to notice the odd shift in the conversation. She was just rolling out more pie crust and pressing it into tins. “The townspeople and the men who work on the trains are really our only regular customers, so unless they complain that it’s not varied enough, I’m sure we’ll be fine.”