Trailblazer
Page 1
Also by Anna Schmidt
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Books. Change. Lives.
Copyright © 2019 by Anna Schmidt
Cover and internal design © 2019 by Sourcebooks, Inc.
Cover art by Judy York
Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. Sourcebooks, Inc., is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.
Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.
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Contents
Front Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Author’s Note
Peaches au Gratin
Fred Harvey Coffee
Harvey Girl Special Little Thin Orange Pancakes
About the Author
Back Cover
WANTED:
Young women, 18–30 years of age,
of good moral character, attractive, and intelligent, as waitresses in
HARVEY EATING HOUSES ON THE SANTA FE RAILROAD.
Wages $17.50 a month with room and board. Liberal tips customary. Experience not necessary.
Write Fred Harvey, Union Depot, Kansas City, Missouri
Chapter 1
September 1898
Grace Rogers had made her decision, and she would not be talked out of it. Not by her mother’s tears and not by her father’s refusal to even speak of the matter. It was time to go, time to do her part to help her struggling family. Time to seek the adventure she’d dreamed of her whole life. So, after supper, while her siblings scattered to attend to evening chores, she lingered at the table.
“Papa, Mama, I have some news.” She pulled the advertisement she’d clipped from the paper from her skirt pocket and handed it to her father. “Mr. Fred Harvey is seeking young women of good character to work in the restaurants and hotels he’s established along the railroad line heading west.”
Her mother wiped her hands on her apron as she peered over her husband’s shoulder.
“I have applied and been invited for an interview in Kansas City. They sent me a ticket for the trip,” Grace continued as she handed her father the reply she’d received. “And if things don’t work out, they’ll pay for me to come back home.”
“But, Grace, you have a teaching position here as soon as Miss Barker retires next year,” her mother said. “And what about Buford? Are you just going to walk out on him?”
Buford Kestner and Grace had been sweethearts since seventh grade, and everyone had always assumed they would marry. But over the last year or so, Buford had followed in the footsteps of his father and older brothers, drinking to excess.
“Buford and I have decided to stop seeing each other, Mother. You know that. He’s taken up with Sissy Portman.”
“Only because you’re being so unreasonable.” Lines of worry creased her forehead and pinched the corners of her mouth. “And who exactly do you expect to pay for all this? Ticket or not, you’ll have expenses. What will you do for food?”
“The company is paying for everything.”
“And then?”
“Well, assuming I pass the interview, I’ll be enrolled in training for a month at the headquarters in Kansas City, then I’d be assigned to one of their locations out west. The pay is twice what I could earn here, and my room and board are included.”
It was precisely because Grace knew that every single penny counted if they were to keep the farm from going on the auction block that she had decided to apply for the position. At nineteen, she was the eldest of six, and it was her responsibility—or so she felt—to do whatever she could to help her family. Surely her parents couldn’t argue with that.
Her mother turned to the dry sink. She stood there a moment, head bent, then drew in a breath and began washing the supper dishes, swishing the water in the speckled tin dish pan with unnecessary vigor.
Grace looked pleadingly to her father, who hadn’t uttered a word since reading the letter. “Papa?”
“I got chores,” her father muttered as he left the room, leaving the letter and advertisement on the table.
Grace picked up a flour sack turned dish towel and took her place beside her mother, wiping each dish dry as her mother handed it to her. And all the while, Mary Rogers kept up a steady stream of objections and questions. Finally, as Grace set the last coffee cup on the shelf, she turned to her mother and said, “I have to try, Mama.”
Even then, Grace understood nothing was yet settled, at least for her mother. “Sleep on it, Grace,” she said. “By morning—”
Just then, her siblings all raced back inside, talking over each other and arguing about the next morning’s chores.
“Shush,” their mother commanded.
Grace kissed her cheek. “I’ll get the twins ready for bed,” she said. “Good night, Mama.”
By the following morning, her mother had come up with even more reasons why Grace needed to come to her senses. “What will people say?” she demanded. “A waitress? On the frontier? And these so-called Harvey eating houses? How are they any different from a tavern or saloon? You’d be nothing more than a barmaid, living among a bunch of ruffians, outlaws even. It’s all well and good, Grace, with you being out there while we’re here dealing with the whispers and gossip.”
Grace bit her lip to keep from laughing. Mary Rogers had never cared a whit for what others might say. But she sobered immediately when she saw that her mother was near tears.
Footsteps in the hall had both women looking toward the door. Grace’s father stopped short of enter
ing the room, his expression questioning whether anything had changed.
Her mother wiped away fresh tears and scurried from the room. “You talk to her, Jim. I have no more words.”
Jim Rogers leaned his full weight against the doorjamb of the room Grace shared with her sisters, watching her move between the single drawer in the bureau that held her clothes and the open carpetbag on her bed.
“You’re determined, are you?”
“Yes, sir.” Her voice shook as she folded the last piece of her meager wardrobe and laid it carefully in the bag. “Papa, I can send money back and help carry us through these hard times.”
“That’s not your job, Gracie. Your job is that teaching post. Your job is to marry up and be a good wife and mother. Your job is—”
“And what if I want more?” She glanced up at him, trying to judge his mood. The night before, he had left her sitting at the kitchen table, dismissing her with his silence. And now, he looked weary, as if life itself were a burden too difficult to bear.
“More what?”
She searched for the words that would end in his blessing. “More life,” she said softly. “You always said…”
He shoved his lean body away from the door. “Don’t be telling me what I said in the past, Grace. You were a child, and children deserve their chance to dream. But now…”
“This isn’t a dream, Papa. It’s a real opportunity. I’m nineteen years old, so if not now, when? Not only will I be able to send money, but, Papa, think of the adventure. I’ll get to travel to a whole new part of the country. I’ll see things I would never be able to here.”
He picked up the letter confirming the interview she’d left lying on her bed and read it again. “I heard something about this outfit,” he mumbled, turning the single sheet over as if expecting there to be more on the back. He released a long breath, looking first at the floor, then out the window behind her, and finally settling his gaze on the carpetbag. “I’ll take you to the station,” he said as he folded the letter and handed it to her. He walked away, his receding steps heavy with defeat.
Grace squeezed her eyes shut. Her parents thought she was off on a fool’s errand, but in time, they would realize she was doing this for them, for the family. She hurried to check the small room for anything she might have left behind, then carefully pinned her hat to her upswept hair. She wound the strings of her purse around her wrist and lifted the heavy bag, carrying it out the door. Outside, her mother stood with her arms wrapped in her apron as if to ward off a chill, although it was uncommonly hot for late September. It was apparent she knew her husband had agreed to what she clearly saw as madness.
“I’ll write every day, Mama,” Grace promised. “Besides, I don’t have the job yet. Chances are I’ll be home before the week is out.”
“You’ll get the job,” her mother grumbled. “They’d be fools not to take you on.” She smoothed the collar of Grace’s jacket, then took hold of her wrist. “Don’t be talking to strangers,” she warned as she shoved a large silver safety pin and a small mesh bag half filled with coins into Grace’s hand. “Pin this to your camisole,” she whispered, as if robbers might be just around the corner.
“Mama, I—”
“Don’t be so proud, girl,” her mother snapped. “If you’re determined to do this, at least be smart about it.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” She hugged her mother. That money was the savings it had taken months to accumulate, and it had been earmarked for shoes for her oldest brother, Reuben, who seemed to grow a couple of inches every month. She hugged each of her siblings in turn, whispering promises to write and eliciting their promises to be good and tend to their chores, and silently vowed to replace the money and then some at her first opportunity.
Her father pulled the buckboard to the front of the house. The team of plow horses snorted and pawed the ground, impatient to be on their way. Her mother placed a sack of food inside her carpetbag, and Reuben hoisted it into the back of the wagon as Grace accepted her father’s callused hand to climb up next to him. When she was settled, he clicked his tongue, and they moved forward. Grace twisted around so she could wave her handkerchief, and kept waving until the dust from the road hid her family from view.
She looked at the road ahead and felt a twinge of excitement. She was on her way. She was going to do something that would contribute to her family’s well-being and, at the same time, give her a chance to explore new places and meet new people. She trembled with the possibilities.
They rode in silence for much of the way, but as they neared town, her father cleared his throat. “You can always come home, Gracie. Don’t go gettin’ it in your mind that if these folks don’t have the sense to hire you straight away, that’s somehow a failure on your part. That’s on them. You come on home. Nobody’s gonna think less of you for trying. And if you do take on this work, remember what your ma and me taught you. Anything worth doing is worth doing right. And when they pay you, don’t go sending that money back straight away. You’re likely to have needs, so take some time to settle in and get your bearings.” He fell silent for a moment before adding, “I appreciate you wanting to do your part, Gracie, but your mother and I have weathered hard times before. We’ll get through this as well.”
This was probably the most her father had ever said to her at one time. He spoke softly but quickly, as if he had a lot he wanted to say all at once. They were even with the station now, and Grace saw a few other passengers waiting patiently on the platform. She nodded to neighbors who had come to town to buy supplies or maybe to stop by the bank. Her father had been one of those only weeks earlier, going to see about a loan that had never materialized. The set of people’s shoulders and the slightly skittish looks on their haggard faces spoke louder than words. The summer had been unusually hot and dry. Crops had shriveled in the fields. Hopefully, spring would bring better weather and the new crops would thrive, but they had to get through the winter first. And to do that, her family sorely needed the fifty dollars the bank had denied them.
Her father pulled the wagon up to a hitching post, set the brake, and climbed down. Grace followed, smoothing the skirt of her best navy-blue serge Sunday suit. Would it do for meeting the woman who was to interview her once she reached Kansas City?
“Train’s comin’,” someone shouted.
Her father took her bag from the wagon and led the way to the station. Inside, she presented the voucher the company had sent for her ticket to Kansas City. Max Branson, the stationmaster and a man her family had known their whole lives, looked at Grace’s father as if to ask if he was sure about all this. It occurred to Grace that the entire town would likely be buzzing long before she reached her destination, voicing their opinions about her decision. She was pretty sure most would side with her mother.
Outside, the train’s engine hissed steam, adding to the noise of people boarding and shouting their goodbyes. Her father handed her the bag and kept his eyes on the wooden planks of the platform. She gripped the cracked leather handles with both hands.
“’Board!” The conductor moved along the platform, herding people onto the two passenger cars.
Grace set her bag down and wrapped her arms around her father. He stiffened and then softened as he returned the embrace. “Remember what I said,” he whispered, his voice breaking.
Unable to speak, Grace nodded, kissed his weathered cheek, grabbed her bag, and hurried to climb the iron steps leading to the last passenger car. Although she’d been sent vouchers for first-class travel as well as for food, the stationmaster had told her there was no first-class coach on this train and her food voucher was no good either. Her father had handed over payment for the one meal the train would stop for between here and Kansas City. Grace felt embarrassed. She had worked so hard to convince her parents that the Harvey Company would cover all expenses, and already that was proving not to be true.
The trai
n started to move as she lurched down the aisle. She quickly found a seat next to a heavyset woman who scowled at her but gathered her belongings closer, leaving Grace a sliver of space on the hard wooden seat.
Grace tried rubbing a film of black dirt from the window so she could get a glimpse of her father, but by the time she managed it, the platform was empty. It was hard to believe that in just a matter of weeks, if she passed the interview—and the training—she’d be on her way to her new life somewhere west of Kansas City. The dreams she’d had as a girl of travel and adventure were actually coming true.
In time, the rhythm of the train and the monotony of the view through the window lulled her into sleep, so when it stopped with a jolt, she sat up and looked around.
The heavyset woman picked up her belongings and waddled down the aisle, practically at a run. The conductor announced the stop as “Twenty minutes!” Grace stood and waited politely as the other passengers made a mad rush through the car. Earlier, the conductor had reminded them the train would stop once on its way to Kansas City. The food they’d paid for when they bought their tickets would be waiting for them, but they needed to eat and get back on the train. “We keep to the schedule,” he’d told her as he moved on to the next car.
A woman grabbed Grace’s arm.
“Come on, honey,” she said. “Don’t want to be last in line.” Once they stepped off the train, the woman continued her instructions. “You’ll want to head straight for the washroom so you can relieve yourself, then get in line to grab your food and make it back to the train before it pulls away again.”
“But Mr. Harvey’s establishments…”
The woman shrugged. “This ain’t no Harvey place, honey.”
And it wasn’t. The owners claimed they had fallen behind and the food would not be ready for another twenty minutes, meaning even though passengers had paid in advance, they had to choose between forfeiting their money or missing the train. The thing that surprised Grace was that no one complained. They just grumbled as they filed back onto the train. She wondered if this was so normal that travelers took it in stride. She also wondered if maybe the Fred Harvey Company had oversold what she could expect from them.