THE PATH TO A PROMISE Chapters 19, 20 & 21

 

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.

While working at the Maiden, Olive made more money and 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. “Did I say that right?”

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.

“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 took 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 the man hand Charlotte a scrap of paper, and she put it 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 the 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 were 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. Outwardly, she trembled. She wanted to be home and never 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 the 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 that 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 who paid 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.