by Sara Luck
“At the Custer Hotel. Why? Is there something wrong with that?”
“I’ve never known a woman to stay there. That’s for railroad workers and transient army officers. It’s not a place for a woman.”
“For the rest of this week, it’s the place for two women. Mr. McGowan has gone out of his way to accommodate my sister and me. Again, I can’t thank you enough for what you have done for me today. Good day, Mr. Malone.”
Jana turned to walk away from him, but he caught her hand. “You’ve forgotten already. It’s Drew.”
He held her hand for a moment, a moment like none other Jana had ever experienced. The day was chilled, and his hand and fingers were cold.
Or were they?
Oddly, she felt a strange heat diffusing through her body. She looked at him with a questioning expression on her face, and she thought she could read something in his eyes, a sense of connection that was beyond verbal. Finally, after a time that stretched out for an eternity, but ended much too quickly, he withdrew his hand and touched his fingers to his hat as if in salute. “I’d better be going,” he said as, with a final smile, he turned to leave. “Oh, buy some gloves tomorrow. Dakota nights get pretty cold.”
“Greta, I’ve got a . . .” Jana stopped in midsentence as she looked around the room and saw no one was there. She checked to see if Greta had left her a note, but there was no note anywhere.
“I told her to stay here,” Jana mumbled as she hurried down the stairs and across the lobby.
“Hold on there, little lady, where’re you goin’ so fast?” an older man who was sitting in the lobby called out. A couple of the others laughed.
With her cheeks flaming in embarrassment, Jana slowed down, but continued to walk purposefully and with long strides to the front desk.
No one was at the desk, but a small bell could be rung by slapping the palm of your hand against it, which she did.
“Mr. McGowan!” she called out while hitting the bell again and again.
McGowan came from a side room and, seeing her, smiled. “Miss Hartmann, have you had a pleasant day in the banner city?”
“Mr. McGowan, my sister is gone. Have you seen her?”
“Greta hasn’t gone anywhere. She’s back in the kitchen cookin’ up a stew for supper.”
It did not escape Jana’s attention that McGowan had called Greta by her first name. But what most got her attention was what he said.
“In the kitchen? What kitchen? You say she’s cooking?”
“Maybe you’d better let Greta tell you herself.” McGowan pointed toward the door that led into the saloon. “She’s in there.”
“My sister is in the saloon?”
“Yes, ma’am. She’s been there all afternoon.”
“What?” Jana gasped.
Spinning away from the desk before McGowan could say another word to her, Jana hurried across the lobby and through the door into the saloon. Unlike this morning when she had looked in, the saloon was now filled with men. Some were playing cards, several were smoking, most were drinking, and all were conversing, as the room rang with their voices, occasionally punctuated by laughter.
“Hello, miss,” a man called from one of the tables. Standing, he pulled out a chair. “Won’t you join us?”
“No, thank you,” Jana said, though she didn’t say the words harshly. She looked around the room to see if she could locate Greta, but didn’t see her. Then she walked up to the bar.
The bartender came down toward her. “You must be Miss Hartmann.”
“Yes, how do you know?”
“Greta told me you’d be in here lookin’ for her.”
“Where is she?” Jana asked anxiously. “Where’s my sister?”
“I’ll show you. She’s back here.” The bartender walked down the length of the bar.
Jana was aware of scores of eyes on her as she traversed the length of the bar. When she got to the far end, the bartender walked over to a door and pushed it open. “Here she is.”
Jana stepped in through the door and saw Greta peeling potatoes.
“Greta! What are you doing?”
Turning, Greta greeted Jana with a big smile. “I’ve got a job, Jana!” she said excitedly. “Every day I’ll make a pot of soup or stew, and Carl will serve it to his customers.”
“Carl?”
“Yes, Carl, the bartender.”
“You’ve never cooked for this many people,” Jana began to protest.
“No, but I always cooked for our family while you and Mama were out working, so how hard can it be to cook for a few more?”
“I admire your confidence, but believe me, cooking for four people and cooking for a crowd of hungry men is a lot different.”
“Mama always said she liked my cooking, and now I’ve made up my mind to be the best cook the Custer Hotel has ever had.”
Jana got a challenging expression on her face. “I’m under the impression that the Custer Hotel has never had a cook before.”
“Then it won’t be hard for me to be the best they’ve ever had, will it?” Greta questioned, and they both laughed.
Jana went over to sniff the large kettle that sat on the stove.
“Doesn’t the meat smell good? It’s elk,” Greta said. “I’ve never tasted elk before, so I’m anxious to see what it’s like. I put in some potatoes, and some carrots and onions and I’ve got some turnips, but I don’t think I should put them in. What do you think?”
“I—no, I wouldn’t put turnips in. Greta, how’d you get this job?”
“It was easy. When I came down to go to the restaurant you told me about, I found out it was a saloon. I told Tom he was missing out on business by not having food in this place, so he asked me if I would cook if he fixed a kitchen. When I said yes, we went right over to Ollie’s store and bought a stove, and then Cheap Jake’s brought the pots and pans and all the dishes we’ll need.”
“My gosh, Greta, it didn’t take you long to get acquainted.”
“You’ll never guess what else has happened. Tom says we can stay here for free as long as I cook. Isn’t that wonderful? Oh, he’s going to give my soup to everybody for free, so that means we can eat free, too.”
Jana listened to her sister and had to admit she was divided as to how she felt. Part of her wanted to scold Greta for doing something like this without even consulting her. But Greta was so proud of what she had done that Jana couldn’t find it in her heart to scold her in any way. And if they had a place to stay for free and their meals were furnished, too, it would make it easier to save money for when they began their homestead. She smiled at her little sister.
“I’m proud of you, Greta.”
“Oh, I’m so glad,” Greta said, relieved that her sister agreed with what she had done. “I didn’t know how you would take it.”
“You did the right thing.”
“You can take your time finding just the right job because now we won’t be spending our money for anything.”
“I already have a job. I got it today.”
“You did? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Jana laughed. “When could I have told you? You’re so excited.”
“I am excited. Will you be teaching school?”
“No, all the positions are filled for this year. Starting tomorrow, I’ll be working at Watson’s Ladies’ Emporium. Greta, you have to see the dresses in this store. They’re the most beautiful dresses I’ve ever seen.”
“Oh, Jana,” Greta said, her expression growing serious, “what will you wear?”
“Oh, my.” Jana put her hand to her mouth. “I hadn’t even thought of that. Right now we only have four dresses between us. Until I figure out something, we’ll just have to share our clothes.”
“You’ll come up with something, I know you will. You’re so smart.” Greta brushed a fall of hair back from her forehead. “I think it was a good idea for us to leave home and come out here, don’t you?”
Jana chuckled. “Yes, I do, but I certai
nly can’t take credit for it. It was Mama’s idea that we leave home, and it was your idea that we come out here. But I agree. It was a wonderful idea.”
“Oh, poor Mama. She has no idea where we are.”
“Yes, she does.”
“She does? How does she know?”
“I sent her a telegram.”
“Oh, Jana, if Papa finds out . . .” Greta let the sentence hang, uncompleted.
“I didn’t send it directly to Mama. I sent it to Mr. Gehrig.”
Greta smiled. “Yes, that was a good idea. He’ll know what to do, and I’m so glad Mama won’t be worried.”
“Daddy!” Sam and Benji yelled as Drew stepped into the house. Drew returned their greetings.
“Have they been behaving themselves, Elfrieda?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Malone, they’ve been very good.”
Drew smiled at the two boys. “Good. That makes me very proud.”
“Daddy, do you know how many states there are?” Sam asked.
“No, how many states are there?”
“There are thirty-eight,” Sam said proudly. “If we become a state, we’ll be number thirty-nine.”
“Oh? How do you know that?”
“I learned it in school,” Sam said.
Drew reached out and rubbed the top of Sam’s head. “Well, you’re learning so much in school that pretty soon you’ll be smarter than I am. Then what will I do?”
“You’ll just have to ask me questions when there’s something you don’t know,” Sam said with a broad smile.
“I suppose I will.”
“You boys go wash up for supper,” Elfrieda said.
Sam went off to do Elfrieda’s bidding, but Benji didn’t move.
“Oh, Mrs. Considine, look, I didn’t get my hands very dirty today.” Benji held them out for her inspection. “Don’t you think they’re clean enough for supper?”
“Hmm, you’re right,” Elfrieda said, examining them. “They do look clean enough for supper. But they aren’t clean enough for the apple pie I made for dessert.”
“I’ll wash ’em,” Benji said, running to the washbasin.
“How was your day, Mr. Malone?” Elfrieda asked.
“It was—interesting,” Drew replied without further explanation.
As Drew sat by his hearth after dinner, he couldn’t get Jana Hartmann out of his mind. Elfrieda’s question had stayed with him through the meal. Jana was attractive, yes, but other pretty women were in Bismarck, and in Burleigh County. He had met many of them, most often as a result of Frank Allen’s none-too-subtle attempts to find a wife for him.
But Drew was definitely not looking for a wife. He didn’t need a woman for his children; Elfrieda was taking care of that for him. If he took on a wife now, it would simply complicate things. So, if he didn’t find Jana interesting as a possible spouse, what did so arouse his interest and curiosity?
Ha! Drew thought. That was it. He was curious, that and nothing more.
What sort of woman, who was clearly as educated as she was, would want to come to Dakota to homestead? Was this story about going to New Salem with a preacher the truth? And if it was, why was she staying at the Custer Hotel? Something just didn’t seem to ring true about Jana Hartmann. He would find out more about her. After all, how else could he satisfy his curiosity?
She had said she was in a hurry to leave Chicago. Why the hurry? And if she really was joining this German church group, why didn’t she wait until the whole group came? Two women coming alone to spend the winter? That seemed unlikely, unless they were running away from a husband or the law.
Then, an unbidden thought came to his mind. What if the two women were prostitutes? Was Jana Hartmann a prostitute? She didn’t act like one. She hadn’t flirted with him, and she had certainly handled Jason Richards with integrity.
But then, she was staying at the Custer. Why would she be staying there, of all places? Women simply didn’t stay at the Custer Hotel. Yes, he was curious about this woman, and he was determined he would find out more about her. After all, wouldn’t any good lawyer want to find out about a new citizen of the town?
As Jana lay in bed that night, she thought back over her day and smiled. Her first day in Bismarck had been busy. Both she and Greta had gotten jobs, she had seen much of the town, and she had met Mr. Drew Malone.
How did that thought get in there? she wondered. He wasn’t the only person she’d met today. She’d met Frank Allen, Jason Richards, Charles Draper, and Walter Watson. And Walter Watson was certainly the most important person she met today, because he was to be her employer.
But as she drifted off to sleep, the last image of which she was aware was not of Walter Watson. It was the smiling eyes of Drew Malone.
SIX
The next morning, Jana donned the best of the four dresses she and Greta had brought with them, a high-necked wool navy with a removable white lace collar. She pulled her long, ash-blond hair straight back, coiling it into a knot at the back of her head. When she left the hotel, she thought she epitomized the matronly store clerk who would not offend anyone who came into the store.
She arrived at the emporium at exactly nine o’clock. Before opening the door, she took a deep breath. This was not like teaching a group of children who were eager to listen to every word she told them. In this job you had to convince women to buy dresses or shoes or accessories that were undoubtedly quite expensive. And Drew Malone had insisted that she was just the person who could sell the mounds of clothing that Mr. Watson had in his store.
Jana was nervous, but then she smiled when she thought of Greta. Greta, the cook, and Jana, the saleslady.
She opened the door, listening to the tinkling of the bell.
“Your first day, and you’re late, Miss Hartmann,” Mr. Watson said sternly.
“Oh, sir, I’m sorry. You didn’t say what time to come.”
“The sign says ‘open at eight.’ ” Mr. Watson went to the counter at the back of the store and pulled out a sign from under some papers.
“I didn’t see it, sir. I’ll be here at eight tomorrow morning.”
“That will depend on how much you sell today. And I can tell you right now, it won’t be much.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Look at you. You look like a schoolmarm.”
Jana’s eyebrows lifted at Mr. Watson’s comment. “Is there something wrong with a schoolmarm?”
“Of course not, in a schoolroom. But this isn’t a schoolroom, Miss Hartmann. This is a ladies’ emporium. The ladies who come into this store want to see someone who appreciates the merchandise, someone who wears the clothing I sell.”
“Sir, I will tell you right now, I cannot afford the clothing you sell. But I have an idea. If you will allow me to wear one of your dresses, for say an hour, then perhaps when a woman comes in, she will see me wearing the dress and want to buy it.”
“Now, why would I . . . ?” Watson stopped in midsentence and looked at Jana. “Turn around slowly.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Turn around, turn around.” Watson made a circular motion with his finger. As she did so, he looked at her as if he were buying a horse. “I think that is probably a pretty good idea, Miss Hartmann, but I’m wondering, how you will get the women to come into the store?”
“You have a mannequin in your window. What if I put the dress I am wearing on the mannequin?”
“No, that won’t work, you’ll spend all your time dressing the mannequin. I know.” He smiled and held up his finger. “We’ll have a living mannequin. Miss Hartmann, you will stand in the window.”
“What? No, I can’t do that! Why, that’s perfectly scandalous!”
“Why? What’s the difference between wearing the dress in the store or wearing it in the window? The way I see it, there is no difference. Except that, if you are standing in the window, more people will see you, and that might bring them into the store.”
“Mr. Watson . . . I think I’d bette
r find another job.”
“No, now wait a minute. This was your idea and it’s a very good one. We’ll have you stand in the window for fifteen minutes. Then you come in and help any customer who might want the dress you’re wearing. The next hour you’ll put on another dress and do it again. Will you try it for today?”
“All right, but I’ll only stand in the window for ten minutes,” Jana said, thinking that this was most certainly not her idea.
Mr. Watson smiled broadly. “That’ll be fine, but if that’s the case, I get to choose the dress you’ll wear. And one other thing: do something else with your hair.”
What had Jana gotten herself into? Had she actually just agreed to stand in a window in order to sell something? At least she was trying to sell clothing, not herself. She had read English novels where the heroine, an illicit woman perhaps, would find herself in a window offering herself to the highest bidder, and then the handsome prince would ride by in his elegant carriage and, seeing her exquisite beauty, would whisk her away to his castle, where she became his princess and the two lived happily ever after.
Jana laughed. Perhaps a prince would see her and take her away to his ten-by-twelve-foot sod shack where he was proving up his homestead. Then she wouldn’t have to go to New Salem.
The dress that Mr. Watson had selected for her was by far the finest garment she had ever worn. The slate-gray velvet walking suit was trimmed in red cashmere frieze. The jacket had long coattails in the back and short points at the waist in front. The frieze, with its soft fiber curls, was gathered at the neck and then topped with a gray velvet collar. She had used wire hair rolls to help her arrange her hair in puffs, and when she put on a red hat with dyed red feathers and red kid gloves, she had to admit the ensemble was beautiful.
When she stepped out of the dressing room, Mr. Watson’s face displayed his approval.
“Jana, it’s perfect. If this doesn’t sell clothes, I don’t know what will. I put a chair in the window, for you to steady yourself, but I don’t want you to sit down. We can’t get any wrinkles.”
“All right.” Jana walked toward the front of the store and stepped up onto the window ledge. She placed her hand on the back of the chair and stood as still as she could.