Trailblazer

by Anna Schmidt

  As the train picked up steam, she shared the food her mother had stashed in her bag with the woman who had helped her, as well as others seated around her. By the time she arrived in Kansas City, her stomach was growling, and she was feeling hot and a little dizzy as she made her way through the crowds. A passing carriage splashed mud on her skirt, and she knew her hair was in serious need of repair. By the time she found the Harvey Company headquarters and presented herself to a young man seated at a large reception desk, she was convinced there was no chance she would be hired.

  What a mess I’ve made of this, she thought.

  “Grace Rogers!”

  A young woman stood in an open doorway calling Grace’s name, apparently not for the first time.

  “Here,” she said, raising her hand the way a student might in school.

  “This way, please. Miss Culver is waiting.”

  Miss Culver was about Grace’s mother’s age, but any similarity ended there. Fashionably dressed in a rose-colored skirt topped by a high-necked, lace-collared blouse similar to day costumes Grace had admired in the Sears, Roebuck and Co. mail-order catalog, the woman’s smile was both welcoming and concerned.

  “Oh, my dear,” she exclaimed. “I see you’ve had a time of it already.” She led Grace to a straight chair and poured her a glass of water from a beautiful crystal pitcher. “Drink this and catch your breath,” she instructed. She stood by for a moment to make sure Grace drank the water, then took her place behind a large desk. Miss Culver folded her hands and said, “Now then. Tell me, Grace Rogers, why do you want to be a Harvey Girl?”

  An hour later, Grace’s head was still spinning but for an entirely different reason. Miss Culver had asked so many questions—about her background, her experience, even her hopes for the future. But when she handed Grace an official-looking document and said, “Sign here, dear, and welcome to the Harvey Company,” Grace felt like shouting for pure joy. She’d done it!

  Her hand trembled as she signed the contract stating her intent to accept the terms of employment Miss Culver had explained. The contract was for six months, the first month without pay while she was being trained, although she would be housed and fed. After successfully completing her training, she would leave immediately for whatever eating establishment she was assigned.

  “Miss Trevor will take you to be measured for your uniforms and show you to the dormitory where you’ll stay for the next month,” Miss Culver explained, ushering Grace to the door. “Come the end of next month, all going as planned, you’ll be on your way to your new position. Congratulations.”

  Four weeks before she would begin earning the money she intended to send home.

  It seemed so far away.

  * * *

  Nick Hopkins was anxious to get back to the ranch. The yearly October trip to Kansas City was a necessary evil that went with his job as foreman of a large cattle concern just outside Juniper, New Mexico. At least negotiating with the railroads over the price of beef to be served along the routes had gotten a lot easier now that Fred Harvey’s outfit had convinced the railroad to let them take over the food service part of the business. Old man Harvey might be a stickler for doing things proper, but at least he was honest.

  The train back to Juniper this time around was unusually crowded, even in first class. All Nick wanted was to find a seat he didn’t need to share so he could stretch out a bit and get some much-needed shut-eye. The city was noisy and far too bright for his tastes. He longed for the dark quiet of New Mexico.

  As the train jolted forward, he found his balance and looked down the aisle. He spotted one empty seat, but it was one of those situations where the seats faced each other. The other side was occupied by a young woman. What if she wanted to chatter on about being on her way to visit some relative or maybe meet her intended? She looked nervous, her arm firmly locked through the handles of her carpetbag. Her gaze darted around, and she twisted the frayed strings of her cloth purse in her fingers while she took in her surroundings.

  Still, it was the only available seat, so he moved forward and nodded to her as he placed his bag in the overhead carrier. He sat with his back braced against the window and stretched out his legs. Then for good measure, he folded his arms over his chest and lowered his hat over his eyes. That should give her the message.

  She cleared her throat.

  He opened his eyes to slits and studied her below the brim of his hat. She had fixed her gaze on the passing scenery and set the carpetbag on the seat next to the window, but she was still fiddling with that purse. Every once in a while, she would shift in her seat, touching the carpetbag as if to assure herself it was still there.

  He shut his eyes tight.

  She continued to fidget.

  He’d never get any sleep if the woman kept up her squirming and twitching. “You’d be more comfortable if you let me put that bag of yours up in the rack,” he said.

  She studied him with eyes that were large with surprise—or maybe shock that he had dared speak to her. Blue eyes, the color of a New Mexico sky at noon.

  “No, thank you,” she said primly. Her gaze skittered away to a man seated across the aisle, and then Nick understood the reason for her nervous fidgeting. The man was grinning, his bloodshot eyes roaming brazenly over her. He was clearly a man of means, but his expensive suit was unkempt. He was traveling with a woman Nick assumed was his wife and three squirming children. They were all well-dressed, but the man was clearly drunk, and the woman looked exhausted. With a worried frown, she continued to glance between her husband and the younger woman.

  Nick sat up, leaned across the aisle, and spoke directly to the harried wife. “Those are good-looking kids, ma’am,” he said.

  His words had the effect he expected. Her husband drew himself up to his full stubby height and glared at Nick. “Mind your business,” he muttered. He switched seats to sit next to his wife, putting himself out of the line of sight of the girl, and ordered his three children to sit on the seat opposite and be quiet.

  Nick shrugged, leaned back, and once again lowered his hat over his eyes.

  “Thank you,” the young woman across from him whispered as she bent down and pretended to straighten the hem of her dress. She was wearing gloves that looked new, but the single feather in the small hat perched on her honey-colored hair could use replacing, and the rest of her traveling outfit had seen better days. Maybe the gloves had been a going away gift. In spite of himself, he was curious.

  “Where you headed?” he asked.

  She hesitated.

  “Just passing time,” he assured her as he sat up again and faced her, setting his feet on the floor and his hat on the seat beside him.

  “New Mexico,” she replied.

  He smiled. She was a cautious one. “New Mexico’s a big place.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “You visiting family?”

  “No.” She turned to the window.

  Okay, she didn’t need to hit him over the head. He got it. They’d switched roles—now she was the one who wanted no conversation. No skin off his nose. He leaned back and closed his eyes. Still, in spite of his determination to mind his own business, there was something about her that piqued his curiosity. After a moment, he said, “I manage a ranch just outside Juniper. That’s a little north of Santa Fe.”

  She frowned and tightened her grip on her purse. “That’s nice.”

  He leaned forward and spoke in a low voice meant for her ears only. “Just a word of advice. The more you fiddle with that purse of yours, the more you’ll make unsavory sorts wonder just what you’ve got in there that you’re so scared of losing.”

  Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times, and she glanced around the car as if looking for an escape. Just then, the conductor started down the aisle, calling for tickets, and Nick saw her breathe a sigh of relief.

  Sh
e handed over her ticket and motioned for the conductor to lean in closer, whispering something to him.

  “Sorry, miss. We’re pretty full up. A few passengers are scheduled to leave us at the supper stop. Maybe after that,” the man replied as he took Nick’s ticket and punched it. He studied Nick for a moment and grinned. “Mr. Hopkins! Haven’t seen you on board in a while.”

  Nick grinned. “It’s Ollie, right?”

  The conductor nodded. “Good to see you, sir.” He turned back to the young woman and leaned in close, but Nick still heard his words. “You’re in good hands, Miss. Mr. Nick Hopkins is a fine gentleman.” He turned to punch the tickets of the family across the aisle.

  * * *

  Nick Hopkins might be a fine man, and a handsome one, but he was nevertheless still a stranger. On the other hand, his comment about her purse was probably no more than him trying to offer some advice. He did seem sincerely concerned, the way he’d thwarted the unwanted attention of the man across the aisle. But still, a girl needed to take care. She looped the strings around her wrist again and allowed the purse to rest against her side.

  She glanced at him and saw his lips quirk in what might have been a smile before he turned his attention to the window. His skin was tanned to a burnished gold except for a lighter stripe across his forehead. His head was probably usually protected—her father had the same line on his face for the same reason—though in the cowboy’s case, it would have been by that black hat on the seat next to him. His thick, chocolate-colored hair kept falling over his forehead even though he repeatedly brushed it back with his fingers. He needed a shave, but there was something appealing about the stubble of whiskers. He was tall; that much was evidenced by the fact that even when occupying a seat meant for two, he seemed to need more space. He had broad shoulders that stretched the limits of the dark-gray sack coat he wore. The tan cotton shirt underneath it was in need of a good ironing. His trousers were a dark brown and his boots black, with fancy tooling.

  “Do I pass inspection?” he asked, jarring her back to reality—and the realization that she had been studying every inch of him.

  Her cheeks grew warm and red. “I…”

  He waved away any excuse she might offer. “Look, Miss…” He waited.

  “Rogers,” she said, her voice cracking. “Grace Rogers.” She saw no harm in giving him her name, and she didn’t want to be rude.

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Rogers.” He hesitated, then added, “Like Ollie said, I’m Nick Hopkins. I wonder if you would do me the honor of joining me for supper?”

  The offer was more tempting than it should have been. She had looked forward to dining in a real Harvey eatery, but even though her first-class ticket included meals, having dinner with this stranger—even paying her own way—simply would not do. “I have food with me. Apples and cheese and some bread.” She nodded reluctantly toward the carpetbag and the sack of food inside it that Miss Culver had given her at the station.

  “But did you ever eat in a Harvey House, Miss Rogers?” he asked.

  “Yes. In Kansas City.” She took pleasure in his surprise. He probably saw her as some country bumpkin. She straightened her back and shoulders and met his gaze directly for the first time. “You see, I work for the organization.” She flashed the practiced smile she’d developed in training.

  His return smile took her breath away. How could any man be this good-looking? She felt her cheeks begin to turn pink, but she shook off the attraction. She had no time for flirting. She was on her way to a job, a new life that would hopefully provide adventure for her and much-needed financial assistance for her family.

  Still, she couldn’t help but cast him a quick look from beneath her lashes.

  “Well now,” he drawled. “In that case, it seems to me it would be to your advantage to try as many of Mr. Harvey’s establishments as possible. You could look at things from the customer’s view and see how the one we’ll be stopping at soon is different from the one where you’ll be working.”

  “Oh, there are no differences, Mr. Hopkins,” she replied, parroting the information she’d absorbed during her training. “At least not when it comes to service and quality of food. Our organization adheres to the same standards no matter where we are. It’s the Harvey way.” As the train pulled into the station, Grace pressed her hands over her skirt. “Enjoy your meal, Mr. Hopkins,” she said brightly.

  Nick Hopkins grinned and stood. He reached past her and took her carpetbag from her, lifting it into the overhead rack, then stepped back to allow her to go ahead of him. “If you change your mind, Miss Rogers…”

  A dozen different thoughts flashed through Grace’s mind. She reminded herself that going with this man might be construed as breaking the strict rules for conduct set forth in her training. She reminded herself of her mother’s warning not to talk to strangers. She reminded herself that she had no time for exploring a possible friendship—or more—with a man.

  She was a Harvey Girl now and, as such, represented the high standards of the company. “I won’t,” she said, “but thank you for your kind offer, sir.” With that, she made her way to the exit.

  The establishment was a far cry from the place her train to Kansas City had stopped. Greeters met passengers at the entrance and discreetly directed them to the appropriate washroom. By the time Grace returned to the dining room, Mr. Hopkins was already seated at a table near the door. He looked up, arching an eyebrow and nodding toward the empty place across from him in question.

  She hesitated. The truth was, now that she was actually standing in the dining room filled with people, it struck her that she was alone and knew no one—other than Mr. Hopkins. Where would be the harm in sitting opposite possibly the most handsome man she’d ever seen, a man who also appeared to be quite intelligent and genuinely concerned for her welfare? After all, the conductor had vouched for him.

  On the other hand, given how strict Mr. Harvey’s standards were for his employees, how did she know someone wouldn’t be watching and report her? Maybe Mr. Hopkins worked for Mr. Harvey and was supposed to be testing her.

  She straightened to her full height—just over five feet—scanned the room quickly, and made her way to a vacant chair at a table occupied by two other women. Seating herself, Grace smiled up at the waitress in her pristine uniform: a black dress covered by a crisp white pinafore apron, black shoes polished to a sheen, and black hose, all topped off with a perky white bow in her upswept hair. “Milk, please,” she said and watched as the waitress set her coffee cup next to its saucer, its position a simple cue to the girl who served the beverages.

  As soon as the waitress walked away, the drink girl arrived, glanced quickly at the way the cups had been set, and poured coffee for Grace’s tablemates, leaving a full pot on the table in case they wanted refills. Moments later, she delivered a tall glass of milk to Grace, presenting the beverage on a small silver tray. A girl could be fired for simply carrying a glass or plate to a customer. Serving on a tray was the Harvey way.

  This is my future, Grace thought, not some cowboy who is far too handsome for his own good.

  “Oh, sweetie,” one of her tablemates whispered as soon as the drink girl left. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t turn that down if I were you.” The one speaking nodded toward the cowboy who had snapped open his cloth napkin and was smiling up at a waitress.

  Grace kept her attention focused on the two women sharing her table. One was slim and tall, with blond hair that was so pale, it was almost white. Her friend was petite with curly light-brown hair that framed her delicate features.

  “That man?” Grace glanced briefly at Mr. Hopkins. “I don’t know him. He took the seat across from me on the train.” She hoped the slight lift of her shoulders could be interpreted as “What could I do?”

  “Still…”

  The brunette, seated across from Grace, rolled her eyes. “Pay no
attention to Lily. She’s never seen a man she hasn’t pictured as her Prince Charming. I’m Emma Elliott, by the way.”

  “Grace Rogers,” Grace replied, taking in each of her tablemates with the introduction. “I just finished my training with the Harvey Company. I’m on my way to Juniper, New Mexico, to start work.”

  Lily grinned. “Welcome to the crew. We’re Harvey Girls as well. Just got transferred down to New Mexico. Frankly, I can’t wait. If that cowboy is any example of the local fare, I’m gonna be one happy lady.”

  Emma smiled. “Lily Travis, you are all talk.”

  They finished the first course—a wedge of iceberg lettuce covered in the Harvey Company’s homemade dressing—and then gave their attention to the manager, who entered the dining room carrying a large tray balanced on the flat of one hand held high above his head. Beef sizzled on the tray, and the irresistible aroma spread throughout the room. He set the tray on an empty table and was immediately surrounded by the waitresses who waited for him to carve and portion out the servings that they delivered quickly to their tables. The food was piping hot and smelled delicious.

  Conversation throughout the dining room petered out as everyone enjoyed the food. The waitresses passed through the dining room offering second helpings, and the manager assured everyone they had plenty of time to enjoy their meal. He would let them know when it was time to board the train. Grace couldn’t help thinking about the difference between this meal stop and the one she’d experienced on her way to Kansas City a month earlier.

  By the time they’d finished dessert—a quarter of warm apple pie, because the Harvey way was to divide a pie into four slices, not the usual six—Mr. Hopkins was no longer in the restaurant. On their way out the door, Emma came alongside and hooked her hand through Grace’s arm. “The couple sitting across from us left the train here. There’s room if you’d like to sit with us,” she said. “We’re at the far end of the first-class car, near the sleeping berths.”