Trailblazer

by Anna Schmidt

  “Yes, thank you,” she told Emma. “I’ll just get my bag.” Mr. Hopkins was standing on the other end of the platform. If she hurried, she could collect her bag and make the move before he was aware she’d decided to change seats.

  “The conductor will take care of that for you. Come on.” Emma led the way to the train, only stopping to speak to the conductor. He nodded and assured Grace he would take care of moving her luggage as soon as everyone was on board.

  Just then, Lily came rushing from the station. “Saw someone I knew and had to say my goodbyes,” she said, but what Grace noticed most was that the lively young woman had evidently taken a moment to apply rouge to her cheeks and lips.

  “So it’s the rushing about that is to account for the sudden glow to your cheeks…and lips?” Emma asked drily as she led the way down the aisle to their seats at the far end of the car.

  They settled in, and the train moved slowly forward. Then Lily gasped. “Oh my,” she whispered and immediately put a hand to her hair as she looked up with a coquettish smile.

  “Ladies.” Grace was seated with her back to the new arrival, but she knew that voice—a little husky, very deep. Mr. Hopkins stepped forward and looked down at her. He was carrying her bag. “I’ll just store this above for you. Give everyone a little more room.”

  Grace’s cheeks flamed with embarrassment. She kept her eyes on the toes of his black boots as she nodded. “Thank you,” she managed.

  “You could join us,” Lily offered. “There’s plenty of room for four.”

  Grace’s head shot up.

  Mr. Hopkins chuckled. “That’s mighty kind of you, Miss…?”

  “Travis,” Lily said as she offered him her gloved hand as if expecting him to bow and kiss it. “Lily Travis. And where are my manners? This is Emma Elliott, and of course you’ve already met our friend, Grace Rogers.”

  Grace wondered how she could have missed Lily’s Southern drawl. Then she realized the accent was for the benefit, no doubt, of Mr. Hopkins. After all, she’d said she was originally from Chicago.

  “Nick Hopkins,” he said as he nodded to Emma, who stood and shook his hand as firmly as any man might have.

  “Thank you for taking such good care of Miss Rogers, Mr. Hopkins,” she said. “We’ll be fine for the remainder of our journey.”

  Grace might have expected the cowboy to be upset, but instead he nodded and tipped his hat to each of them. “Ladies,” he said again. “I look forward to seeing the three of you again.” And with that, he strode up the aisle, seemingly impervious to the need to steady himself against the movement of the train.

  Grace realized she had turned around to watch him leave. Behind her, Lily sighed. “That is one good-lookin’ man.”

  Emma took out some knitting and began to work. “That is one dangerous man, ladies. If you value your jobs, I would advise keeping your distance.” She fixed her gaze on Grace. “Especially you.”

  “Why me especially?” Grace would have thought Emma would be far more concerned about Lily.

  “Because that man has his eyes on you. Not me and, despite her efforts, not Lily.”

  Lily stuck out her tongue at Emma and then grinned. “Never mind men. The three of us are going to have a grand time in Juniper, I just know it.”

  But as the train clicked off the miles, Grace realized dismissing Nick Hopkins was not as easy as Lily seemed to think. She found herself recalling little details about the man, like his smile and the way he kept brushing his hair off his forehead. Far more intimate details than seemed proper for a Harvey Girl.

  Chapter 2

  The train pulled into the Juniper station just after sunrise. The three women had moved to their sleeping berths a little after nine, but Grace had been too excited and nervous to sleep. At first light, she scooted close to the window and peered out, trying to see through a mist of steam as the train slowed for the final approach to the station.

  “Grace, are you awake?” Emma whispered from the berth across from hers. “We’re getting close. You should dress and get to the washroom before the hordes descend.”

  Grace had never bothered to undress, sitting up through the night studying her training manual and writing her mother about the train, the restaurant stop, and her new friends. She had decided not to say anything about Mr. Hopkins. She stepped into the aisle. Lily yawned and stretched as Emma gathered her toiletries and walked unsteadily down the length of the car to the washroom.

  Once they had all taken their turn in the washroom and gone back to sit in the passenger car, Lily lowered the top half of the window, stuck her head out, and looked around. The train slowed to a stop, and she ducked back inside and shrugged. “Seems like a nice enough place,” she reported. “Lots of people milling around. I saw the hotel just across the street and some shops down the other way.” She gave Grace a sly grin. “I also saw your Mr. Hopkins, stepping off the train the second it stopped and heading into the station like he owned the place.”

  “He is hardly my Mr. Hopkins,” Grace protested, flustered. She turned her attention to retrieving her bag—one she had to lift with two hands and that Nick Hopkins had handled as if it were empty. She set it on the seat, put on her hat, and jabbed the long hatpin firmly through it and the twist of her hair.

  “Ready?” Emma asked.

  Grace took a deep breath, let it out, and nodded. I’m actually here, she thought, unable to control a giggle of delight.

  After making arrangements for their luggage to be delivered, the three women walked across the platform and through the bustling station to the main street beyond. The October early-morning sun was already as warm as summer in Missouri. They paused, looking up and down the street as they took in their surroundings. The town was nowhere near as large as Kansas City had been, but there was still a fair amount of traffic. Wagons, buggies, and men on horseback wove their way up and down the dirt street. Emma pointed out two saloons, already open for business even at this early hour. A large mercantile dominated one side of the plaza, its assortment of wares spilling onto the boardwalk outside its double doors. Nearer the station was a blacksmith shop. Nick Hopkins stood there, holding the reins of a beautiful black horse while he laughed at something the blacksmith was saying.

  He did have the nicest smile.

  Emma tugged at her sleeve and pointed across the street to where Grace saw a sign announcing Welcome to the Palace Hotel—A Harvey House Establishment. The building was impressive, constructed in the adobe style common to the area, its reddish-brown clay walls inset here and there with aqua ceramic tiles that reflected the morning sun. The grounds surrounding the hotel set it off to perfection, large planters overflowing with desert foliage set at intervals along the covered walkway that ran the length of the front of the hotel.

  “Oh my,” Grace whispered and hurried forward without a thought for whether or not Emma and Lily were following, anxious to see the inside of this place. It had already exceeded even her wildest hopes for what she might find in New Mexico. Once she added these details to the letter she’d started on the train, her parents would have to agree that she had made the right choice in coming here.

  The morning breakfast rush was just ending when they reached the hotel. Men in business attire and others dressed in the rougher clothing of ranch hands or railroad employees tipped their hats politely and stepped aside as the three women entered the spacious lobby. Emma took charge as usual, approaching the desk. The man behind it, dressed in a black coat and striped morning trousers, topped by a white shirt with a stiff collar and bow tie, looked up.

  “May I be of service, miss?”

  “We are the new girls,” Emma said, gesturing to Lily, who had wandered away to look around, and Grace, who stood frozen to the spot next to Emma, trying hard not to gawk. “I’m Emma Elliott.”

  “And I am Aidan Campbell,” the man replied, “manager of this hotel and ea
ting establishment.”

  Grace realized Mr. Campbell was technically the boss of every employee working in the hotel. She smoothed her hair and stood a little straighter, hoping to make a good impression.

  “You’re Scottish,” Emma said with a smile. “I recognize the hint of—”

  “Miss Kaufmann, our head waitress and dining room manager, has been expecting you.” Mr. Campbell snapped his fingers to gain the attention of a young man dressed in a uniform of red and black. The bellboy hurried forward. “Please escort these young ladies to Miss Kaufmann’s office and then return to take care of their luggage.” He turned back to Emma. “I assume your belongings will be delivered from the train?”

  Emma fished around in her bag and produced a coin. “Yes, please see that the porter receives this, with our thanks.”

  “Unnecessary,” he said, staring at the coin Emma held out to him.

  “I insist.”

  Grace realized she liked Emma more and more. Here was someone with the confidence and poise not to be intimidated by others. She might do well to model herself on Emma’s example. Mr. Campbell took the coin with a slight frown. He was clearly not a person who was accustomed to being contradicted. Grace filed that snippet of information away as well.

  “A bit full of himself, that one,” Lily muttered as they followed the bellboy down a back hallway and through a door that led to the kitchen.

  The gangly youth led the way through the kitchen, where cooks and dishwashers dodged around each other preparing the last of the lunches, and on to the open door of a small room. He paused and cleared his throat.

  The woman seated at the desk looked up, then stood. “So, they’re here at last,” she sighed.

  “Yes, miss.” The boy stepped aside and hesitated.

  “That will be all, Tommy,” the woman said.

  The bellboy nodded to the trio and then hurried back to the lobby.

  Meanwhile, Miss Kaufmann stood just outside her office and studied the three young women. “Names?”

  “Emma Elliott.” Emma had to shout to be heard above the din of pots and pans behind them. The smell of food cooking was a reminder that they had skipped breakfast in order to have more time in the washroom.

  “Lily Travis.”

  “Grace R-R-Rogers.”

  Miss Kaufmann walked in front of them as if inspecting her troops. She circled them as a group before stopping to study Lily more closely. “Is that lip rouge, Lily Travis?”

  Grace followed Emma’s lead of keeping her eyes on her shoes while Miss Kaufmann produced a clean white handkerchief and handed it to Lily. “Clean it off, and let’s have no more such foolishness.”

  To Grace’s surprise, Lily did as she was told, murmuring, “Yes, ma’am,” as she scrubbed her mouth clean.

  “We’re a bit short on dorm space here at the Palace. I’m afraid the three of you will share a room on the top floor, end of the hall.” She indicated a back stairway. “When in uniform, you will use this rear door as your entrance and exit path to and from the hotel. I do not ever wish to see any of you in the lobby or other public areas unless you are as properly attired as any of our guests. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” they replied in unison.

  “In addition to my duties overseeing the counter and dining room, I am also your housemother. My room is at the top of the stairs, and I am a light sleeper. Curfew during the week is ten o’clock. On Saturdays, it is midnight. The bath is across the hall from your room and shared by all the young ladies employed here. There are uniforms and shoes waiting for you in your room. Please go wash up and change. Don’t dawdle. I need you in place for the lunch hour.”

  Grace’s hands were trembling, and Miss Kaufmann took note. “As the new girl, you’ll take a post behind our lunch counter to start. I assume you’ve been properly trained in the serving of beverages?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Grace whispered.

  “Speak up, child, and smile.” She gave Grace a rather gruesome showing of her own teeth, and Grace heard Lily cover a snort by pretending to cough. “Well, off with the three of you. We have four trains a day coming and going on our weekday schedule with people needing to be fed in a timely manner, along with all the locals and railroad workers. No time to dillydally.” Miss Kaufmann flapped her hands at them as if she were shooing away flies.

  Dismissed, they hurried up three flights of tiled steps and were a little out of breath by the time they reached the top floor. They followed a long dim hallway past a series of closed doors to the one at the end of the hall that stood open. Crowding into the small room, they saw three narrow beds that took up most of the space. On each bed lay a uniform—high-neck black dress, white apron and petticoat, black stockings, and the trademark white bow they would wear in their hair.

  “What if our uniforms don’t fit?” Grace said as she studied the polished shoes next to one bed. During training, she had worn her own shoes, and truthfully, she dreaded breaking in new ones.

  Lily shrugged. “I assume they took your measurements and shoe size during your training. Emma and I are transfers, so those are for you. We have our shoes already.” She lifted a foot to show the toe of her shoe, then took her uniform and headed across the hall to the bathroom.

  “Don’t dawdle,” Emma called after her in a perfect imitation of Miss Kaufmann’s instruction before turning back to Grace. “We should start changing. Knowing Lily, we’ll barely have time to relieve ourselves and wash our faces before we have to race downstairs again.” She closed the bedroom door and began removing her traveling clothes.

  Grace followed Emma’s lead. Not only was Emma confident, she was older and more experienced, having worked for the Harvey Company for five years. She understood what it would take to make a success of the position. Like a big sister, Grace thought and then allowed herself a little smile of pleasure as she pulled on the black stockings. Back home, she’d always been the oldest. It might be nice to have someone she could rely on.

  Emma dressed quickly, clearly well practiced at putting on the uniform. While Grace was fastening the buttons on her dress, Emma stepped across the hall and knocked loudly on the bathroom door. “Time’s up, Lily,” she called and then came back to help Grace fix the white bow in her hair. “Perfect,” she announced as Lily exited the bathroom, carrying her traveling clothes, which she dumped on her bed instead of hanging on the hooks provided as Grace and Emma had done.

  “Ready, girls?”

  Emma rolled her eyes and indicated Grace should use the bathroom next. As she closed the door, Grace heard Emma say, “Lily, I’m guessing this job is important to Grace—and her family. Please don’t lead her astray.”

  “I would never,” Lily protested as she closed the door to the bedroom.

  Grace wondered why Emma felt the need to caution Lily. True, Lily was outspoken and free-spirited, but she’d certainly shown Grace nothing but sincere friendship. She opened the door to the shared bathroom and gave no more thought to Emma’s warning. The view before her made her giggle with pure delight.

  During her training, Grace had experienced the convenience of an indoor toilet and hot water on tap, neither of which they’d had back on the farm. But in this bathroom, there was a bathtub that looked large enough for two and stood on feet that looked like a lion’s paws, a toilet with a pull chain to empty it, and a sink with faucets marked as hot and cold, plus a basin deep enough for washing one’s hair. She was well used to sharing a room with her sisters no bigger than the one across the hall, but a real bathroom? That was living in luxury as far as she was concerned. Just wait until she wrote Mama about this!

  Once downstairs, Emma and Lily were directed to the main dining room while Miss Kaufmann walked with Grace to the lunch counter just off the lobby. The large U-shaped counter was made of gleaming black marble set on a highly polished mahogany base. Swivel chairs set on metal posts secure
d to the floor lined one side. Each place was set with a cup and saucer, a pristine white linen napkin, and a gleaming set of cutlery, waiting for the next customer to arrive. The serving side of the counter had storage underneath, outfitted with wire baskets to hold fresh napkins and silverware and space for stacks of cups, saucers, and juice glasses. The plates and bowls would come from the kitchen, depending on what the customer ordered.

  Two of Fred Harvey’s trademark huge silver-plated coffee urns sat on the second black marble counter behind the first, along with an array of tempting pastries and pies displayed on glass pedestals, each covered with a spotless glass dome. Grace knew she and a polishing cloth would have more than a passing acquaintance in short order with all that glass and silver. Two of the chairs at the counter were occupied, and given the number of people milling around in the lobby, it seemed likely the rest would be filled soon enough. Grace swallowed her nerves and tried to concentrate on the instructions Miss Kaufmann was giving.

  “For now, you will be on beverage service,” she said, waving a hand at the coffee urns. “Cups, saucers, spoons, napkins, sugars, and creamers.” She moved quickly along the open shelving indicating the location of each item. “Miss Forrester here will take and deliver food orders and set the cups.” She stopped speaking and stared a moment at Grace’s trembling hands. “You do know what I mean when I say ‘set the cups,’ Miss Rogers?”

  Grace forced her hands to be still by flexing them at her sides beneath the cover of the fullness of her apron. “Yes, ma’am.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, yes, Miss Kaufmann.”

  “Very well.” She still did not seem convinced. Grace had visions of the head waitress going straight back to her office and dictating a telegram to headquarters in Kansas City that the new girl simply would not do. “Miss Forrester, let me know if there are issues.”

  “Yes, Miss Kaufmann,” the other girl assured her, seeming to swell with importance. But when Miss Kaufmann had gone, she turned to Grace. “Just to be clear, my name is Polly, and I am in charge of things here at the lunch counter.”