CHAPTER
NINETEEN
Rich scents of bread and vegetable
soup floated into the dress shop and Rachel Hammontree spoke, her white teeth
perfecting her smile. “Enjoy your lunch! I must return to my sewing machine
before the afternoon sneaks away; I look forward to seeing you again soon. And
please come anytime to visit and don’t think you must buy something!”
“Thank you, Mrs. Hammontree,” Lydia
said, shaking the woman’s slim hand. “When will my dress be ready?”
"A few days before your wedding.
I have a large order to fill. But I’ll have the girls begin work on it
tomorrow. Good day, now." She disappeared into the other room.
Turning to his brother, Edward clapped
Will on the shoulder. “How about lunch? Let’s wash up.”
“I’m ready!” Will looked at Olive. “I’m
glad you came down with Lydia today. Have you seen much of Eureka Springs? It’s
a town that offers mineral springs as healing waters. The bath houses are very
popular and busy all the time.”
“This is my first visit. I hope to
come down again. I’ve heard the healing waters do work," she replied,
recovering from a moment of surprise. The man seemed eager to talk to her.
Will nodded. “We have friends who use
them every so often, and they rave about how they feel afterward! Ed and I have
been working with Ansel for a while, but we live in Kansas. Have you ever been
to Kansas?"
Olive smiled, wishing that she were
more worldly so she could say that yes, indeed, she knew about Arkansas and
Kansas. That would be a goal. She would add travels to her growing list of
things to do. However, if she got to attend school again, she could graduate
and have a career. She hadn’t thought of Nellie Bly in a while. Working at the
Connor Hotel put an end to the luxury of daydreaming.
"No, I've never traveled. Joplin
is as far as I've ever been."
“And speaking of that, it’s time we
get back to Joplin,” Lydia said. After hugging Ansel, she grabbed her leather
purse from the counter. She placed the receipt from her dress order inside.
Claretta took over the conversation.
“Edward, Dear, I’ve invited Lizzie and Olive to our wedding. Please remind me
to tell Anna that I invited them."
Edward rolled his dark eyes and shook
his head. Taking a deep breath, he answered. “If you had your way, the whole
state would attend, darling.”
“Edward!” Claretta cried out, her lips
turning into a pout.
“I didn’t mean it like I said it,”
Edward’s face grew red. Looking at Lizzie and Olive, he explained, “My fiancé
never meets a stranger. She is quite the friendly imp.”
Claretta drew a breath, but Edward
hurried to say, “And I wouldn’t have her any other way."
Will chuckled. “You know exactly what
to say to get yourself out of hot water, little brother.”
Edward’s eyebrows drew high, and he
wiggled them before grabbing Claretta around the waist and hugging her.
“Lunch is calling my name, boys,”
Ansel said. “Ladies, have a safe trip.”
“We will. Claretta, I’ll return when
my dress is ready.” Lydia waved goodbye.
Olive approached the door but Will
stopped her, pulling her around to face him. “I meant it when I said I’m happy
to meet you. Please try to come back and stay a bit longer. I’ll escort you
around town so you can try those steaming waters. Say you’ll try…”
Olive looked into his blue eyes. He
stood before her with a look of anticipation covering his face. She
instinctively knew he was an excellent man of good character. Her senses said
he was a good worker, and that the Hammontree family admired and cared for him.
Her face immediately burned. Where did those thoughts come from? She steadied
herself to answer him and not look like a ninny. “My job keeps me busy. But,
yes, I’ll try to be back. Thank you for the invitation.”
“Well, then, it appears you may have a
date one of these days.” Edward chuckled and struck Will’s arm, pulling on it.
“If I’m fortunate,” Will shot back.
Olive went out the door, not looking
back. This chance meeting was a surprise. She liked the Brier boys. And the
Hammontrees. Oh my, what extraordinary ladies they were. The thought of making
new friends put hope in her heart that she was turning her life around for the
good.
On the return trip home, the train’s
rocking motion and the sound of the wheels on the track lulled them to
afternoon naps. Their late lunch included chicken sandwiches, steamed broccoli
and carrots, and lemon dessert. With their tummies full, they took advantage
and slept.
Finally, Lizzie awoke just before
reaching Joplin. “I enjoyed the visit with the Hammontrees. What a nice family
and such talent! I dare say I don’t know anyone who can turn out a dress like
Ms. Rachel can.”
“Nor I,” Lydia agreed, pushing her
glasses higher on her nose. “I’m delighted with my wedding dress, and I know
Mother will approve of my choice and the color.” She quickly made a face and
said, “Oh.”
“What is it?” Lizzie asked.
“It never occurred to me that perhaps
Ansel might not care for the peach satin.”
Lizzie giggled. “Well, I wouldn’t care
if he liked it or not. You’ll be wearing it, not him.”
Olive sucked in a breath. Was it rude
of Lizzie to be so blunt? She waited for Lydia’s answer.
Lydia chuckled. “Leave it to you, Miss
Independence, to say that, but you’re right. I'll not worry what Ansel thinks!”
Olive thought the three of them shared
a commonality about independent life. She hoped they didn’t bring up her
actions in the dress shop. She wished the others had not overheard Will Brier
talking to her. He seemed to have his life in order, while she was like a duck
out of water, having just left the hills and hollows to live in a city. And
Will's attitude toward her — and grabbing her hand when they met, such a scandal.
She chided herself for thinking that
way. Meeting a man didn’t mean it would turn into anything. She had already met
a lot of men and would meet more as the years progressed. She needed to get
over the distress that Henry had caused. Men were men—good and bad. Her body
eased, and she felt better. But she immediately thought of Will’s hair and the
rebel piece that fell across his forehead.
Lizzie’s chatter broke Olive’s thoughts.
“I’m happy that Claretta invited us to her wedding, even though it's a ways
off, I want William to meet Edward. I think they will get along well. And we
need to go shopping at Chrisman's for wedding gifts. I think crystal would be
nice for them. What do you think?”
Lydia’s eyes lit. “That's a splendid
idea! I might buy something to accompany whatever you choose.”
Lizzie’s eyebrows rose. “Sister, I do
hope you can take time off to go to the wedding with us. Just think—a double
wedding. I’m sure it’ll be an affair to remember.”
Olive nodded. “If I can, I will.”
“Are you feeling ill?” Lydia asked.
She peered closely at Olive. “Mother said an illness of sorts is going around
again. I do hope you’ve not caught it.”
“I’m rather tired,” Olive answered and
closed her eyes, fighting off Will Brier's image.
***
The following week, a letter arrived
from Nancy for Olive and Lizzie announcing that Ben was planning to marry Mayme
Bates. Ben and Mayme were childhood friends and now they were getting married.
Bud and Nancy were happy he had chosen one of the Bates girls. She came from
hardworking people. But the biggest surprise in the letter was that Pearl, too,
was getting married.
“What?” Olive exclaimed. Her eyes were
as round as wagon wheels. “I can’t believe this!”
Lizzie laughed at her sister’s
expression. " I guess they’ve been drinking that water Edward Brier spoke
of.”
Olive rolled her eyes and continued
reading. Pearl was marrying Charlie Weeks, who came from a good family in Rocky
Corners. His father was a traveling preacher. The Weeks family came from a long
line of God-fearing preachers.
“Well,” Lizzie said, raising her voice
and hand. "I always knew Charlie had an eye for Pearl. I’ve watched them
at church.”
“But I’ve seen his Irish temper,” Olive
commented. “He’s just like his grandad.” She shivered and grimaced.
“Then he’ll be a good fit for Pearl.
She's got the temper of an old setting hen. Besides, she usually gets her way.
She's learned how to manipulate the entire family."
Olive sighed. “Well, it’s certainly a
year for weddings.”
“How does that make you feel?” Lizzie
bent her head.
Olive shook her head and pursed her
lips in a frown. “I feel sorry for them if their marriages turn out like mine
did.”
“Not all husbands are like Henry
Winters.”
“Praise the Lord for that!” Olive picked
at her dress and pulled a loose thread. A man like Henry was not worth much. A
ball hardened in her chest. It had been three years, and the hurt and anguish
were still fresh and seared her soul.
“You’re sour on men right now,
Sister,” Lizzie said, “And with good reason. But one of these days, someone
will walk into your life and steal your heart. I never thought I could love
another man after loving Daniel. Life goes on, and with it comes new adventures.
William is such a good man, and we love each other deeply. Mary Jane could not
be a better mother-in-law. She’s just like Christina: sweet, gentle, and
accepting of all of us.”
“I’ve only seen David and Christina at
church since Henry left,” Olive whispered, tears in her eyes. "You know
how close we were. I loved them as much as I loved Ma and Pa. But I think
things have changed since Pa ran off Henry."
She swallowed the lump in her throat
and swiped at her misty eyes. "Pa said it’s a feud that will not be
resolved quickly.”
“Now, I don’t think that’s true!”
Lizzie exclaimed. “How could they hold grudges? They were best of friends.
Dan’s death brought everyone even closer together. It's the Tanners who are
crazy folks! And they'll never be forgiven for killing Dan!"
“And Henry tore it apart,” Olive said,
her mouth a grim line. “I’d love to see Christina and David again. Maybe when
we go for Ben's wedding, I can take Peter to see them.”
“I’ll get to see my darling Clara
Mae,” Lizzie said. "She’s seven years old now. I bet she’s grown so much I
won’t even recognize her.”
Olive apologized, “I’m sorry I’m so
down in the mouth about the past. I must learn how to handle things and work
through it.”
“One day at a time,” Lizzie advised.
Two weeks later, Lydia and Lizzie made
the trip to Eureka Springs to pick up her dress at the Hammontree Dress Shop,
but Olive did not go. She was working daily at the Connor but planned to quit.
Charlotte Morgan, a maid at the Connor and Olive’s new friend, was leaving the
hotel and going to work at the Golden Maiden Restaurant. Charlotte’s eyes lit
up as she told Olive about making more money at the Maiden and how it was
always buzzing with excitement.
Olive knew how to cook due to Mama's
teaching, and how hard could it be to take people's orders? She had no work
experience, but how was one supposed to learn? The potential to make a lot of
money enticed her to leave the hotel. She made an appointment to talk to the
owner, Harry Parker, about the job, and he hired her on the spot. Ultimately,
Charlotte coaxed Olive to follow her to a new job.
She traveled to Rocky Corners and was
with her parents for the wedding week. Many people were marrying, but Olive had
no thoughts about it; marriage was trouble with a capital T. Ben married Mayme, and
Pearl married Charlie. Today, Lydia tied the knot with Ansel at the courthouse
in Pine Hills. The Brier family had not shown up for the festivities. Olive was
disappointed that Will Brier did not attend. But it was just as well. She
wasn't looking for a man. She sent money to Mama and life was working out well.
Just then, cheers rang out. Charlie
and Pearl were preparing to leave, and it was time to toss the bouquet. “Come, Olive.
Gather around Pearl and see who catches it.” Lizzie practically dragged her out
the door, where Pearl waited.
“One, two, three!” the crowd hollered,
and Pearl turned her back, tossing the bridal bouquet over her shoulders
straight into Olive’s waiting hands. Applause rang out through the crowd, with
people laughing and making comments in good fun. The happy couple went through
the crowd, hopped into the waiting buggy, and drove away while empty cans, old
boots, and worn shoes tied to the back of the vehicle clattered on the dirt
road.
Those clustered about Olive clapped
her on the back and offered their congratulations for catching the bouquet and
joking about being the next in line for marriage. She smiled and buried her
face in the flowers, pretending to be happy for the catch. Next in line for
marriage? Not ever again, she thought, as she smelled the perfumed flowers.
The week hurried by. Olive helped her
mother with the chores and cooking. Peter was a delightful three-year-old who
kept her laughing most of the time. She still wrestled with guilt. Her heart
felt a stab of anxiety when she thought about leaving him again. Bud and Nancy
were getting on in years, and surely having a youngster to chase after wore on
them.
Thoughts swirled in her head, pros and
cons, worrying and wondering how she would care for Peter if she took him to
Joplin. Especially when she lived in someone else’s home. That was taking
advantage of Mary Jane’s kindness. She was defeated at every turn. No, she
could not take Pete until she had her living space. A thought bloomed. Perhaps
she could take him with her for a week to visit.
“Mama, I’m taking Peter to spend a few
days in Joplin.” She saw her mother’s expression of angst.
“He’s much safer here with us than in
that city, Olive. You can come home anytime and see him, but taking him away…”
She paused and shook her head. “No.”
“He’s my son, Mama. I’d never let any
harm come to him. I feel responsible for him. I’ve left him here with you and
Pa for too long.”
“We've already discussed this and when
the time is right, you'll know. And now is not the right time." Nancy
changed the subject. "Is Lizzie taking care of herself?” There were
questions in her eyes.
Lizzie was pregnant again and Nancy
was naturally concerned. Lizzie was never overly healthy as a child, and when
she married Daniel Winters and had Clara Mae, the birth was hard on her.
“She rests every day, and Mary Jane
watches over her. William won't let her work after the laundry job. I know how
much she wants a baby. Has she mentioned taking Clara Mae home with her?”
Nancy frowned, shaking her head.
"She did, and I told her no. She can wait until she has this baby and
recovers from it. Then I'll consider it. If it's not the death of her."
"Mama, don't speak it!" Olive felt a chill, thinking of her sister dying. She couldn't accept that. Lizzie would be with her for years and years, and they would grow old together—two sisters, together, living life for years to come.
CHAPTER
TWENTY
The next day, Olive returned to Joplin
on the train. When William got home from the mines, he had news for the ladies.
At the supper table, he announced, "Have you heard? Europe's at war.
Archduke Ferdinand was assassinated."
Mary Jane dropped her fork and cried,
"Oh my! God bless them, this is awful!"
"What does it mean?" Lizzie
asked. "I'm afraid I don't keep up with worldly news."
William answered. "The powers
that be over there have been arguing for a long time. I'm not surprised that
this has happened. Germany and Austria-Hungary are fighting against Russia,
France, Great Britain, and a couple more countries."
"So, we are not involved?"
Concern creased Mary Jane's face.
"No." William's answer
struck a chord of dismay in the women. "Not yet. And I pray we don't get
involved in it."
"What if we do go to war?" Olive
asked, taking a drink from her glass.
William's thick brows raised as he let
out a breath. "Well, we better pray we don't. But if we do, then Mama will
miss many of her boys."
Olive grimaced.
Lizzie put her hand to her mouth and
shook her head.
Mary Jane sat straight in her chair.
"Tonight's prayers will be filled with pleas that God is merciful and His
power reigns over their power."
Lizzie changed the subject. "To
change this dreary subject, I heard from Lydia. She and Ansel traveled to
Lakefield, Kansas, for Claretta and Edward Brier's wedding. You know Edward's
sister, Anna Brier married Grant Webber, and they made it a double
wedding."
"How nice to hear. But I thought
you and Edward were going to attend." Mary Jane looked at Lizzie, then at
Edward. As an afterthought, she looked at Olive. "And you, also."
Lizzie looked at her husband.
William laid his left hand over hers
and, wiping his mouth, answered his mother. "Blame me, Mother. I know how
much Lizzie wanted to go, but I worried the trip might be too much on her.
Lydia was miffed. But she'll get over it."
Olive smiled at him and her sister.
"I think you're a prince for thinking of Lizzie first. And I worked, so I
couldn't go."
Lizzie chuckled. "Lydia wasn't
the only one mad at William. But I did want to see them again. Maybe
soon…"
"There'll be other times that you
can travel. Is the tonic that the doctor gave you working?" Olive looked
at her sister. She was thankful for William and his watchful eye on her sister.
Lizzie's health had seemed a bit better since the last miscarriage. Her skin
was not sallow, and her eyes were a healthy brown. At twenty-six years old,
Lizzie looked beautiful.
"I'm feeling better. The pain in
my back still hurts, but Mama said it will never go away."
"You look lovely, Dear,"
Mary Jane's voice held love and respect for her daughter-in-law.
"I second that!" William raised his glass and smiled.
***
Later in the week, Olive left her
employment at the Connor Hotel and went to work at the Golden Maiden. The
establishment was located one block south of Main Street, away from the
towering Keystone Hotel and The House of Lords saloon. The Golden Maiden
squatted between Mr. Marson's grocery store and the Ramsey Millinery.
Working at the Maiden, Olive made more
money, and she enjoyed conversing with the customers. She had a bank account,
and soon, she hoped to find a place to live and move out of Mary Jane's home.
Olive wiped down the wooden table on a
warm late-summer evening, pocketing the dime tip. Smiling, she patted her white
apron pocket. The metal jingle of the coins she had collected over the day was satisfying.
She would send Mama and Papa money next week. Tossing the white dish towel into
the hamper underneath the mahogany bar, she scanned the room, looking for her
best friend. The waning light cast gray shadows over the hardwood floor. It
would be dark soon. Charlotte was nowhere in the dining room.
The Golden Maiden's customers came and
went all day, and sometimes, the place was overly crowded. Now, in the late
afternoon, the dining room was almost empty. A couple lingered at a corner
table with unhurried ease, enjoying slices of apple pie.
Raucous laughter, the bawdy piano
tunes, and the roulette wheel's tick-tick ticking floated through the walls
separating the saloon from the dining room. Suddenly, a woman’s hoarse squeal
and a man’s deep baritone broke the noise.
The music stopped.
Olive’s smile faded, standing rigid, waiting
for the results of the interference in the next room. Would a fight break out,
sending men fleeing in all directions? Would the Joplin cops arrive rushing the
Golden Maiden and haul off a paddy wagon full of hooligans? Minutes later,
peals of laughter rang out. All was well once again. The merriment grew even
louder than before.
Olive relaxed. Instead of a horrendous
argument, she supposed it must have been playful and innocent—just another man
trying to coax a gal upstairs—just another day in Sin City, as her mother would
say. Joplin had been a tent city on the banks of Turkey Creek in its early days
until the discovery of lead, which drew a mixture of people into the state's
southwest corner. Miners of all ages and backgrounds moved in to make a living.
Somehow, the evils of the world arrived with them.
Saloons occupied nearly every street
corner. Most hotels secretly harbored gentlemen’s parlors. In parts of town
women sold themselves to make their living, all in the name of women’s rights.
The House of Lords was the most popular of all of them. Olive vowed to Lizzie
and her friends that she would rather return home poor than resort to that way
of living.
“A penny for your thoughts.” A woman’s
voice cut into her daydreams. Turning, Charlotte Morgan carried a massive chunk
of ice in a granite dishpan. The woman’s cheeks were flushed from the humid
outside air. A velvet band encompassed her head, lifting her ruby hair off her
neck. She plunked the ice into the insulated wood icebox and closed the heavy
door.
“Charlotte, there you are!”
“Did you think the saucy minx was
somewhere she shouldn’t be?” A chubby short man teased as he rounded the corner
near the two women. The stained white muslin apron he wore strained to cover
his belly. His discolored and toothy grin gave his thoughts away. His head and
double chin shook with the tremors that plagued him.
Before Olive could reply, Charlotte
pulled the band from her head, and big sausage curls sprang from their
confinement. Her painted plum-colored lips parted into a smile, her white teeth
small and straight. She had a smile that tempted men—the siren’s call. To make
things worse, she knew it.
“Now, Olive Dear, you know I won’t
find myself in troubles deep!” Charlotte chimed. “We went out to get more ice.
George thinks there’s a storm brewing.”
Olive sniffed the air suspiciously,
whispering, “Charlotte Morgan, have you been smoking again?” Before she got an
answer, she gave George a glare that would drop a bear.
George backed away slowly, hands
raised in surrender, eyes large as silver platters. He was mouthing something,
but no words escaped his lips.
“I don’t have to answer!” Charlotte
turned away and picked up the drink tray from the bar. “But I will say you
should try it sometime; you might like it!” She hurried over to the couple in
the corner.
“Of all the nerve,” Olive huffed,
putting clenched fists on her slim hips.
George moved closer and put his hand
on her arm. She watched his tired eyes ogling Charlotte as she crossed the
room. Her lush hips swaying like a hula girl. His devilish smile gave his
thoughts away, and Olive jabbed him in his pudgy rib cage.
Olive’s right eyebrow lifted in
haughty assurance. “Over my dead body, George Filbert!”
George
blushed. “Just because you’ve been bamboozled by a pretty boy doesn’t mean
we’re all pretty boys.” He stiffened as his brow wrinkled in thought.
Olive hesitated, wanting to laugh, but
restrained herself. George got enough laughs and rebuffs. He did not need more
rejection. Her heart went out to the aging bachelor at times. At other times,
she wished she could smack him into another century.
“Did I say that right?”
“George, just forget it.” Olive watched
Charlotte conversing with the couple. “I don’t want her getting a nasty
reputation from smoking.”
“Charlotte is lucky to have an angel
like you watching over her.” Sighing, George rubbed his eyes and blew out a
deep breath. Looking at the large clock over the counter, he stated, “Almost
quittin’ time. You better go sweep the foyer, Sweetpea.”
Olive nodded in silence and grabbed a
broom, heading toward the grand establishment's entrance. Her shoes clicked in
rhythm on the hardwood flooring. The sound deepened when she stepped onto the
foyer's marble floor. Noticing that the plants in the corner looked rather dry,
she fetched a jug of water.
After she watered the ferns and tidied
them by picking off their dry, brown fronds, she took up the broom and swept. She
thought of herself as Cinderella, sweeping her life away. But in her story, she
was without a handsome prince to find her and whisk her off into his kingdom.
The rising wind whistled through the
window sashes and around the wide oak doorway. Another gust brought a tall, big
man through the double lead-plated glass doors. Wearing a pinstriped gray suit,
his long-sleeved white shirt tucked into pants, he carried a heavy overcoat.
He stopped when he saw Olive. His
greeting was smooth as cream, “Hello, Little Lady. Can I get a meal? I’m mighty
hungry and thirsty.”
Olive saw deep-set blue eyes while a lock
of his chocolate-dark hair rose like a rooster’s tail on his head. His square
face was chiseled with a smooth, dark tone, his voice deep, his words polite.
The whiff of sweet-smelling smoke invaded her nostrils. The kind that came from
those swanky cigars wealthy folks smoked. He resembled the pictures she saw of
gangsters in Kansas City.
“Miss?”
Olive blinked, focusing on his
question. Her smile tipped her lips upward. “Find a table, and I’ll be right
there.”
The man’s white teeth showed between
firm lips. “I truly appreciate it.”
She watched him move across the hardwood floor to a small table.
***
When Olive cleaned up the mess on the
floor and went inside, Charlotte was taking the handsome man’s order. She
laughed while writing on the paper pad as the man spoke. Olive just shook her
head. Charlotte was notorious for stealing customers, and tonight was no
exception.
But there was no harm done. Although
handsome, the man reminded her of pictures of mobsters with his tailored suit
and immaculate hairstyle. He carried himself with authority and confidence from
his head to his feet. Did he conceal a pistol in his overcoat? She saw
Charlotte put a scrap of paper in her apron pocket.
George came from the kitchen to pour
water from a couple of pitchers. His breathing was labored, his cheeks very
red.
“George,” Olive whispered, “Look at
the man Charlotte is waiting on and tell me who he reminds you of.”
He squinted at the table in the
distance. His face changed, and his mouth dropped open. Rolling his eyes, he
looked again.
“Is that him?” Olive asked.
“Him as in another pretty boy?”
“No, as in mobster Pretty Boy Floyd!”
her voice was overly excited, and she ducked her head as she wiped the counter.
“Will you look at that?” George’s
voice had a slight whistle as he blew out his breath. "If he was the
gangster, why would he think he could get any action here at the Golden
Maiden?”
Olive glared at him. “Maybe to get
away from the action? Maybe he was at the House of Lords and wanted a quiet
place to eat?” Oh, how she wished she had her camera. But there again, mobsters
would not let anyone take photos of them. She chuckled at the thought of the
man posing for pictures.
"Could be,” George smiled big and chuckled under his breath.
Charlotte brought the order to George and whispered, "Make it quick. Lloyd's in a hurry." George took the paper and disappeared into the kitchen.
The couple at the corner table left
the Maiden, leaving only the handsome man in the room. "You know the
man?" Olive was in awe.
Charlotte's twinkling green eyes hid
the truth from her friend. "Oh yeah, Lloyd's been a customer for a long
time. He's in town again for a few days." She stared at Olive. "He's
a looker, ain't he?"
Olive smiled. "He's a handsome
devil for sure."
"Devil?" Charlotte smirked.
"Funny, you should call him that." She chewed on a fingernail, her
face pulled into a grimace.
"Got a sandwich and a vanilla cow
ready," George interrupted their conversation, placing the plate and a
glass of milk on the counter. "And the kitchen's closed. I want to go
home!" Running water in the sink, he started cleaning.
Olive watched Charlotte take the food
to Lloyd. They spoke again, and she returned, "Lloyd's a nice guy. He's
married with a bunch of kids. His uncle sends him on business here in Joplin
and in Oklahoma. He's a friend of my grandfather."
"Must be a good business to dress
like that," Olive commented.
"It pays the bills."
Charlotte opened the register and started counting the cash.
"I'm going to sweep. I want to go
home, too." Olive grabbed a broom and went to lock the double doors. When
Lloyd walked by on his way out, she dumped the last dustpan's contents in the
trash.
"Thanks, Pretty Lady. See you
around sometime!" He winked at Olive and, turning, called to Charlotte,
waving as he went out the door.
Olive smiled as the hunky stranger
left the Maiden. Instinct told her he was a shady man, but as usual, he piqued
her curiosity.
"Well, it's ten o'clock. Are we
ready to close up this joint and go home?" George yawned and smacked his
lips.
Another night at the Golden Maiden had ended.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Walking home from work, the night air
was hot and breath-taking. A breeze blew but didn't damper the warmth of the
night. Olive approached the alley, intending to catch the last electric railcar
home. Dark clouds covered the moon and stars, making the night seem even
inkier, but she knew her way and was not afraid.
As Olive rounded the corner on the
boardwalk, a man stepped from the shadows of the brick building. He was close.
The glow of his cigarette lit his face, and a grotesque scar ran from his right
eye down his cheek. Hollow eyes bore into her. His long overcoat and black
boots were out of place for the heated night. Removing the cigarette from his
mouth, his raspy voice caught her off guard.
“Hello, honey.”
Icy stabs of fear stopped her in the
path that led to the trolley. “I’ll scream. Stay away from me!” she warned and
stepped back.
But the man was quick, grabbing her,
covering her mouth with his hand, and pulling her to him. His breath fanned her
face with the stench of whiskey and cigarettes. “Now, that wouldn’t be a wise
thing to do, honey. I’m not going to hurt you.” He tried to step down off the
boardwalk, but she fought the action, making him stagger. “No need to waste
your energy fighting,” he whispered.
Olive sucked in as much air as she
could, his beefy hand nearly smothering her. She wished she had screamed first
instead of talking about it. Lesson learned.
"Promise not to scream and I'll
take my hand away." The man slowly pulled his hand away from her mouth.
“What are you doing alone on such a hot night?”
She prayed as fast as she could while
her mind whirled. What would Pa do in such a situation. He had given her his
knife for protection. But it was at home in a drawer. The breeze picked up
again and danced some leaves across the alley like scurrying rats in the sewer.
“Nothing to say, huh?” The man's dark
eyes bloomed with wayward thoughts. The scar marking his face attested to his
seedy side.
The only thing she thought to do was
scream. And she did. The scream pierced the air, rousing the dogs in the
neighborhood. And that set the big man off, wrestling with her again. She
continued to scream as he cursed her.
Suddenly from the boardwalk a man
called out, “Vince? Hey, leave her alone!” Footsteps pounded toward them.
Olive got her chance and kneed the man
in the groin. The man doubled over in pain and cried out more curses, blending
with the wind. She shoved him, and he nearly fell over, but the man from the
boardwalk arrived to catch his fall.
“Vince! The coppers are going to show
up. I heard her scream, and I’m sure others did, too!”
Vince grabbed his stomach again and
barely looked up. “I’ll get you for this, Maston!” He ran off into the shadows
at the other end of the alley, his boots sloshing through puddles from last
night's rain.
The man called Maston looked at her.
“Did he hurt you?”
“I’ll scream again,” she warned,
backing away. She noticed he, too, wore a long overcoat, but a fedora covered
his hair. A cane hung from his right arm.
“I won’t hurt you. I promise. What are
you doing out here at a late hour?”
Leaning against the brick wall, Olive caught
her breath and calmed herself enough to speak. Staying on guard and ready to
run, she said, “Just got off work.” Her shaky voice came in little puffs. She
let out a sigh, along with tears. “Thank you for helping me….” She looked at
him. "I have to catch the trolley."
Maston’s smile was dazzling, like
looking at the sky and the hot sunshine. “I’m glad I arrived on the spot. Vince
has a nasty attitude after he’s had a few drinks. Come on, I’ll make sure you
get home safely.” He moved to take her elbow.
Shrugging away, she replied, “I can
make it myself. Thank you anyway.” A thought sped through her. She probably
missed the last trolley. Walking was the last resort. She moved quickly down
the boardwalk.
He caught up with her, shaking his
head. “No, there's no more trolleys tonight. And how do you know Vince ain’t
waitin’ down the street? Come on…”
Olive kept walking, shaking her head.
"How do I know you're telling the truth? I said I can go myself.”
Maston pulled her around to face him.
"If I wanted to harm you, I would've already done it!"
She swiped at the tears running down
her cheeks. "Alright but keep your distance." He followed a few steps
behind as she went down Main Street. The towering gas streetlights lit the way
and she hurried along. Once, she turned and shouted. “I’m close now. Thank you
again.”
“All the way, and I’m not taking ‘no’
for an answer!”
She assessed the situation. She didn’t
want him to know where she lived, worked, or anything else. What could she do?
He carried a cane but wasn't using it. It made a good weapon. Saying nothing,
she moved on. She walked down two houses farther to throw him off. When she
opened the gate of the little board fence, she turned. He was right behind her.
“That man called you Maston.”
“Name's Jimmy Maston. And you
are?"
Olive stayed silent. Outward, she
trembled, inward she wanted to be home and never, ever go out in the world
again.
Maston looked her up and down. “I’m in
town for a few days doing business. Will you have dinner with me tomorrow
night? I want to make it up to you for Vince scaring you, and please don’t say
no.”
“A girl’s gotta work, Maston.”
“After work, then?”
“It’s too late. I have to get up
early…”
He interrupted her with a laugh.
“You’re about to run out of excuses. So, I’ll come by the Golden Maiden
tomorrow and we can discuss it.”
He turned on his heel and disappeared
into the night.
Drawing a breath, she wondered how he
knew where she worked. “Hey!” But Maston was gone. Perhaps he saw her leave the
Golden Maiden. After all, he was close when Vince attacked her. Backtracking
down the sidewalk, she arrived at Mary Jane's and closed the door softly so she
would not wake everyone. Despite the heat, she shivered with trepidation and
alarm. Maston knew where she worked. And he man he called Vince probably did,
too.
Preparing for bed, her thoughts spun
round and round. Men were not on her list of wants. Brushing her long hair, she
felt alone for the first time since coming to Joplin. She was young and still
had her looks. Life was ahead of her. All of her friends were married. Both her
sisters and brother were married. They were fulfilled and happy.
Here she was, divorced and alone. Oh
no, she wasn’t going to feel sorry for herself again! After Henry pulled his
pranks, leaving her looking like a fool, she promised never to feel that way
again.
But maybe it would be nice to have
company now and again. Someone to talk to and go places with. Pros and cons of
that idea bounced around as she twisted her hair in a braid. Did she want to
meet a man and have him court her? Would it help her, or would it hinder her?
She enjoyed the banter she had with Will Brier when they met in the dress shop
that day. But Will was in Kansas. Too far away. Will called them neighbors, but
he had his own life, and she had hers. It was something to think about.
Before closing her eyes to sleep, she
planned to be too sick to work tomorrow. She had her answer.
Avoid Maston at all costs.
***
Olive couldn't lie and pretend to be
sick. Money was too important right now. So, she went to work the next day. She
had to save money for a house of her own. Trudging down the street, the morning
air was cooler than last night. She had to wait on the trolley, so finding the
little grocery on the corner of Pearl and Seventh Streets, she went inside.
“Olive! Good to see you again!” Marvin
Bealer exclaimed when he saw her.
“Good morning, Mr. Bealer! I want to
mail this letter. When will it go out?”
“In tomorrow's basket of deliveries.”
Handing him the envelope, sweet scents
of peppermint and cinnamon enticed her to the candy counter. With money in her
change purse, she chose four varieties of candy and waited while Marvin scooped
them into a paper bag. Paying for the sweets, she left the shop and hurried
back to board the trolley.
The morning traffic was heavy as
carriages, men on horseback, and the milk wagon passed by.
She popped a peppermint into her
mouth. Her eyes were heavy from no sleep, and her head ached. She awakened
several times during the night from nightmares where Vince’s seething face and
alcohol breath were bearing down on her. After the nightmare, Jimmy Maston’s
face haunted her dreams. How did he know that she worked at the Golden Maiden?
How did he disappear like a thief in the night so quickly? Mysterious was what
it was. She should have bought a headache powder at Marvin’s store. Too late
now.
While she was grateful that Maston had
saved her from doom, she was uneasy about the entire matter. Vince and Maston
knew each other. What was their relationship? Were they involved in shady
dealings? Joplin was full of thugs and thieves.
Charlotte and the crew were already at
the Golden Maiden preparing for their day. Olive put her bag of treats in the
coat closet, hung her hat on a hook, found a clean apron, and took a tray of
clean glasses to the counter. Hoping the day passed quickly, she stopped to
fill a glass with water.
George came round the corner and
nearly bumped into her. Grabbing her by the shoulders, George apologized and
took a step back. “You look horrible!”
Hot tears gathered in her eyes. All
she wanted to do was go home. But she couldn’t. She had to work. Had a full day
ahead of her. No rest for the weary. Arching a brow, she huffed, “George, just
hush! For once in your life, hush!”
His face reddened, and he backed away,
hands held up, a frown pasted on his lips. His stained white apron jiggled as
the tremors shook his head and shoulders. He returned to the kitchen.
A bleachy smell filled the restaurant,
and Olive saw Charlotte wiping tables on the east wall. Olive ducked her head
instead of smiling. While she stacked the glasses on the counter, Charlotte
walked to the bar and started to wipe it down, but she stopped. “You look
horrible!”
Olive let a glass drop on the floor
and whirled around. “I’ve already heard that!”
Charlotte whistled low, leaning
against the bar. Her ruby-colored curls dangled over one shoulder. “What’s
going on?”
“I didn’t sleep much last night! I
kept waking up from nightmares.” Did her voice sound normal, or did it convey
the anxiety that grew in her heart?
“Tell me about them.” Charlotte's eyes
bore into Olive’s face. “Confess, now.”
Closing her eyes, Olive’s lips
trembled, but she managed to reply, “Not right now. Maybe later.”
Charlotte heaved off from the bar.
“I’m not letting this go.” She moved away to finish wiping tables.
Olive busied herself, cleaning up the
glass on the floor, trying to forget the night before. Questions pummeled her
brain. Why was Maston out walking late at night? Had he left the Keystone or
the House of Lords? Did Vince know where she worked? Had he watched her leave
the Golden Maiden last night? Did Vince frequent the House of Lords near the
Maiden? That would explain why he was near when she left work last night. A
cold shiver ran the length of her.
She hadn’t worked here for very long,
so she didn’t know the regular customers, but maybe Charlotte did. Come to
think of it, Charlotte had only worked at the Maiden a week before Olive started.
However, she grew up in Joplin and probably knew many people. Maybe George
would know who Vince was. Then she remembered that Maston said he would stop by
today.
At eleven o’clock, George opened the
doors to the Maiden, and a stream of lunch customers filed through the doors,
quickly filling the tables and booths. The staff stayed busy well into the
afternoon before it finally quieted down. Except for the racket next door in
the gambling hall, the Maiden was quiet and empty. No sunlight shone through
the front windows. The day was blustery, as angry clouds punched the sky like
dark pieces of coal.
At break time, Charlotte grabbed Olive’s
arm and hauled her out the back door. Leaning against the brick building,
Charlotte lit a cigarette while Olive plopped down on a worn wooden bench.
Taking a big puff off the cigarette, Charlotte blew the smoke upwards away from
her friend. “Spill it.”
Olive looked up, and a smile tipped
the corners of her mouth for the first time all day. Charlotte was a friend.
Aside from Lizzie and Lydia, she could always tell Charlotte Morgan anything
and knew it would stay confidential. Even though Charlotte was young, she
confided in Olive that she had relationships with several men. But no man had
ever held her attention long and didn’t offer marriage. She had grown up in
Joplin in a poor family who had to fight for everything they owned.
“A man trapped me in the alley last night right after I left the Maiden.”
Charlotte coughed and almost dropped her cigarette. She puffed out a cloud of smoke. “Oh, my stars!”
“Another man saved me.”
“Are you hurt?” Dropping her cigarette
in a Prince Albert tin, she wrapped her arms around Olive. They stayed that way
for a few minutes, neither speaking, just rocking back and forth in a
comforting manner. When Charlotte pulled away, her cat-green eyes were
questioning.
“No,” Olive replied. “I’m alright.
Thank heaven for Jimmy Maston.”
“Maston?” Charlotte drew back to look
at her friend.
“Yes. He called the man who grabbed
me, Vince.”
Charlotte’s mossy eyes grew round when
she heard the men’s names. “That’s why we must be careful walking around at
night!”
Olive bristled. “I had to get home,
Charlotte!”
Charlotte batted lush lashes. Her
kohl-rimmed eyes grew bigger. “I’m sorry. But Vince Wolf is trouble with the
capital ‘T.' Maston is not.”
“Who are they?”
“Well, Vince is a blackguard,
downright mean. But Jimmy,” she hesitated. “Jimmy’s fun.” Looking at Olive, a
big smile lit her face. “He’s a businessman; he’s rich, got lots of dough.”
Olive listened to her friend talk
about the man who had saved her from the man who gave her nightmares. Having
money didn't make the man. Or did it? Men were all so different. Not just in
stature and looks but inward, too. But God made everyone different. She was
beginning to learn things she had never known before.
Sometimes, she remembered her love for
Henry and what they had shared. He was the first boy that payed attention to
her. Now, she knew he was only out to get the inheritance his father had
promised. She had been a young fool. That memory shaved her heart like Pa’s
hunting knife carving wood. Shaving away the regrets and sadness of a marriage
gone sour.
Charlotte carried on. “Jimmy’s never
been married; can you believe that? Women fall at his feet and beg him to marry
them, but their charms have never swayed him.” Charlotte lit another cigarette,
took a pull from it, then continued. “I’m sure glad Jimmy came along when he
did. Vince is just plain trouble.”
“Maston’s very mysterious,” Olive commented.
If Charlotte knew who he was, maybe she could supply insight into the mystery
man.
“Most handsome men are,” Charlotte
said, grinning while her green eyes popped. “That’s part of their appeal to us
girls.”
“So, you know him well? Are you
interested in him?”
Charlotte choked and sputtered. “Me?
And Jimmy?” She noticed the cigarette smoke wafting into Olive’s face and waved
it away. “No. Mama says we’re cousins down the line. His folks live in
Tulsa."
Olive continued with questions.
"Why do you suppose they were out walking late at night? Had they been to
the saloons?”
“Probably so. They spend money in the saloons and come to restaurants to eat.” Charlotte’s red lips parted, and her smile showcased her teeth, one of her best features. “You gotta stay safe, O! I'll walk you to the trolley stop tonight."
Olive stood up. “We better get back to
work. Thanks for the talk, Charlotte. You always know what to say when a girl’s
down.”
Charlotte dropped the spent cigarette
in the can, opening the back door. “That’s what friends are for.”
When the Golden Maiden closed,
Charlotte walked with Olive to the trolley. Maston had not shown up.
