A Careless Wind
Kansas Crossroads Book #7
by Amelia C. Adams
Special thanks to my beta readers, who are always so supportive and on target—Bobbie Sue, Cissie, Cindy, Jennifer, Mary, Nancy, and Tracy.
Thanks also to my street team, who help me spread the word and cheer me on. You guys are the best!
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Dedicated to everyone with a mountain to climb. You can do it—keep the summit in sight and don’t give up, even if you have to crawl.
Table of Contents:
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Sneak Peek
Chapter One
Topeka, Kansas
1875
The Brody Hotel dining room bustled, filled nearly to capacity with hungry travelers in need of something to eat before starting the next leg of their journey. Rachel glanced around and noticed that Miss Hampton and her new beau, Mr. Dupree, had returned from their trip. They’d brought along two friends, and had taken the last empty table.
“Miss Hampton’s back,” she called out to the girls scurrying through the kitchen.
“Thank goodness,” Sarah said, a streak of flour on her cheek. “This has been the longest twenty-four hours of my life.”
Rachel laughed. “You’ve handled the kitchen beautifully, and I’m sure Miss Hampton will think so too. I’ll be back in a minute with her order.” She smoothed down her apron as she walked up to the table where the hotel manager sat, almost feeling as though this was some kind of test of her waitressing skills.
Miss Hampton turned as Rachel came up to the table. “Rachel, our guests are eating on the house today. Giselle will be joining us here at the Brody, and this is her brother Nicholas.”
Rachel stared, unbelieving, at the young man and woman sitting at the table with Miss Hampton. How could it be . . . here, at the Brody . . . She felt all the blood rush from her face. “I’ll . . . I’ll be back.” She turned and ran for the kitchen, nearly tumbling into Olivia as she passed. “Please take that order,” she gasped out.
“All right,” Olivia replied. “Is something wrong?”
Rachel couldn’t answer. She staggered over to the kitchen table and braced herself against it, taking deep breaths and trying to bring herself back into control.
“Rachel? What’s the matter?” Sarah asked, putting down her serving utensil.
“I can’t go back out there. Will you please trade tasks with me? I’ll gladly dish up the food if you’ll take orders.”
Sarah raised an eyebrow. “I will, but you’ll need to tell me the whole story later.”
“It’s a promise.”
Rachel washed her hands and then began to serve the food as the orders came in. On Olivia’s next trip to the kitchen, she whispered, “Rachel, are you feeling well? You’re white as cotton.”
“I’ll be fine.” Rachel put on a smile. “That was peach pie you asked for, wasn’t it?”
“That’s right.”
Rachel lifted a generous piece onto a plate and set it on Olivia’s tray. “Anything else?”
“And stew and cornbread. Gracious, Rachel, I told you that not a minute ago.”
Rachel’s cheeks flushed—which probably offset her paleness quite nicely. “I’m sorry, Olivia. My mind is somewhere else.”
“Obviously.”
Rachel did her best to keep up the rest of the meal, and no one else had to repeat their orders. As soon as everything was cleaned up and put away, however, she went upstairs, hoping that the girls she roomed with would give her a few moments to collect herself. She took a seat at the dormer window, looking out at the world that surrounded her.
As long as Rachel didn’t think about Daniel, she could pretend that he was still alive, just working somewhere, and that he would send for her soon and they’d get married. Most days, this little game worked, and she found that his smile was fading from her mind. That was, until the Hardys walked into the Brody Hotel and shattered her little dream world. Nicholas and Giselle, Daniel’s brother and sister.
It wasn’t painful for her to see Giselle. Rachel hadn’t known her well, and she didn’t closely resemble Daniel, so it was easy to pretend they weren’t related at all. But Nicholas . . . it didn’t help that he was the mirror image of Daniel, or that he was the brother she almost chose instead.
Thankfully, Nicholas had left the hotel shortly after he arrived. From what Rachel had heard the other girls say, his main goal had been to get Giselle settled before going off to work for the railroad, and Giselle would be staying on at the Brody. However, his absence didn’t mean that Rachel could stop thinking about him. He was almost like a song that played over and over again in her mind, never relenting.
A few minutes later, Rachel heard footsteps on the stairs. Miss Hampton entered the room, pausing just inside. “May I come in?” she asked.
“Of course.” Rachel wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry. I was completely inappropriate today. I should have done my job.”
“Believe it or not, I understand.” Miss Hampton walked across the floor and sat down on the edge of the bed closest to the window. “It must have been hard, seeing your fiancé’s family like that. It was rather sudden, and I’m sure it was a shock.”
“It was.” Rachel twisted her fingers together, glad that Miss Hampton knew the situation already. Explaining it would be far too awkward. “I thought I’d moved past it and that I was doing rather well, but now my heart feels broken all over again.”
“Will it be hard for you with Giselle working here?”
Rachel shook her head. “I’ll be fine. It was just that initial meeting. And it was more Nicholas than Giselle who upset me—he looks a lot like Daniel. My fiancé.” She looked up, a brave smile pasted on her face. Sometimes, pretending makes things real. “Thank you for thinking of me, but I’ll be all right.”
“I’m glad. I was quite pleased to offer her a job, and I’m relieved that it will work out.”
“How do you know her?” Rachel asked.
“We met on the train under rather exciting circumstances. Gather the girls up here tonight, and I’ll tell you all what happened. We had a bit of an adventure today.”
***
Miss Hampton kept the girls up far too late, but Rachel didn’t feel sleepy—the story was so exciting. She’d never pictured mild-mannered train conductor Mr. Dupree as a hero, but that’s exactly what he was—a small boy had climbed atop the passenger car, and Mr. Dupree had gone up after him while the train was still moving. Miss Hampton had been standing just below and saw the whole thing. Then Nicholas came out of the passenger car and climbed the ladder on the other side. Between the two men, they’d gotten the boy down. Rachel’s heart pounded at the thought of how dangerous that must have been for everyone involved.
“So, you and Mr. Dupree . . .” Sarah leaned forward a little. “Do you think you’ll marry him?”
Rachel blinked. She’d been so distracted by thinking about Nicholas on top of the train car, she’d missed the glint in Miss Hampton’s eyes until Sarah spoke. Was . . . oh, yes. Miss Hampton was besotted. It was as obvious as a
fly in a pitcher of lemonade.
“I think we may be heading that direction,” Miss Hampton answered, sounding a little hesitant in her reply. It was most likely wise of her not to give a solid answer at this point—if there had been no proposal, things could change, and it seemed to Rachel like Miss Hampton didn’t want to get her hopes up just to see them dashed. Rachel couldn’t see Mr. Dupree leading Miss Hampton along like that, but life threw strange obstacles in the way sometimes, as Rachel well knew.
“I think that’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard. Him, clinging to the roof of the train car. You, down below, utterly helpless,” Giselle said, her eyes shining.
“I think the most romantic part was Giselle’s brother climbing up to help,” Emma chimed in. “He didn’t have anything to gain from it—he just leaped right in. And he’s so handsome.”
Rachel looked away. She would stop thinking about Nicholas this instant. It was ridiculous. She was relieved when Miss Hampton spoke up. “I think it’s time for bed. I don’t know about you, but I’m completely worn out.”
“Good night, Miss Hampton,” the girls chorused as she made her way down the stairs.
Rachel pulled back the covers on her bed, then took up her brush. She had just tied a ribbon around her second braid when Giselle walked over, her hands clasped at her waist.
“Rachel, may I speak with you for a moment?”
“Of course.” Rachel patted a spot on the bed next to her.
Giselle sat, still looking uncomfortable. “I just wanted to make sure it’s all right with you if I work here. I certainly never intended to end up in the exact same place as you—this was purely by happenstance, and I wouldn’t hurt you for anything. I hope you know that.”
Rachel wrapped her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “Miss Hampton asked me that very question, and I shall tell you what I told her. You are more than welcome. Perhaps it’s even destiny that landed us both here—who knows. You could never hurt me or bring me sorrow. Please know that.”
Giselle wiped a tear from her eye. “Thank you. I’m so relieved to hear that. If you had asked me to leave, I would have done it, and gladly, for your sake, but I don’t know where I would have gone. This place feels like home already, and I appreciate this opportunity so much.”
Rachel smiled. “The Brody is very much home, and the people here are a family. Some of the waitresses have gotten married and left, but they write to us, and I know their hearts are never far from us.” She turned and looked at Giselle more directly. “Now, suppose you tell me why you aren’t at home any longer.”
Fresh tears filled Giselle’s eyes. The poor girl was probably exhausted as well as emotional. “Things at home . . . well, you know our circumstances.”
Rachel nodded. Their father worked from dawn until well into the night, their mother took in washing and mending, and the children were expected to get a job nearly as soon as they were old enough to tie their own shoes. Yet with all this hard work, they’d never prospered. Meals were often skimpy, although they willingly shared whenever they had company. Clothing was patched over and over again until there was nothing left for the patch to be sewn to.
“Mother was struggling to buy enough flour or cornmeal to put bread on the table, and Nicholas and I hated to see the little ones still hungry. We decided that we’d leave and make our own way in the world, and send home what we could. If we aren’t there to eat the food, that leaves more for the little ones.”
“Oh, Giselle.” Rachel swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. She’d never been wealthy, but she’d never gone hungry. She didn’t know what that would be like. “I admire you so much for making that choice.”
Giselle smiled faintly. “Mother was sad to see us go, but the relief on her face . . . yes, we did the right thing.”
“And your father?” Rachel remembered Mr. Hardy as being a solemn man, not much given to showing his emotions.
“Father wept, actually. He pulled Nicholas into a hug and cried on his shoulder. I believe Daniel’s death was weighing on his mind quite heavily.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Rachel swallowed again. Death was a curious thing. It had the power to make hard people soft, soft people hard, bring families together, or tear them apart. Sometimes it changed people into the opposite of what they thought they were, or it enhanced traits they already had. It seemed that nothing changed so many things as much as death.
“At any rate, Nicholas is off to the railroad, and I’m here at the Brody. We’re finding our happy ending, so there should be no more tears.” Giselle wiped her cheeks and smiled. “Truth be told, I’m glad you’re here. Everyone has been friendly, but I’m so relieved that there’s one familiar face.”
After the room went dark and all the girls had climbed into their beds, Rachel thought about what Giselle had said. Yes, it had been painful to see Nicholas again, but she was glad she could be here for Giselle. The girl had lived a hard life already, and she was only eighteen. Whatever Rachel could do to smooth her path, she would do it. Perhaps that would help sooth Rachel’s spirit as well.
Chapter Two
Nicholas couldn’t believe it. Rachel was in Topeka? Giselle would be working with her? It seemed that fate had played a trick on all of them—he’d looked for Rachel to no avail, and then when he considered it a lost cause, there she was, right in front of him. He shook his head, finding it all too ironic. A careless wind had brought this about, no question.
The rhythm of the train wheels lulled him into a contemplative state, and he stared out the window. With a recommendation in his pocket from Mr. Brody, he was sure to get a good position with the railroad—enough to live on, with some left over to send home. His goal was to provide new shoes for all the younger children in his family before the weather turned cold. Giselle wanted to make sure they had coats.
With thoughts of Giselle came thoughts of Rachel again, even though he tried to push them away. He would have given anything to spare her the pain he noticed in her eyes when she saw him. He’d never wanted to see her hurt, even though she’d broken his heart. How could he want anything but the best for her? He’d loved her too much.
The conductor moved down the aisle, making small talk with the passengers. When he reached Nicholas’s seat, he nodded and smiled, and then moved on. Nicholas supposed the man sensed that he didn’t want to talk, and he was grateful for that. There was nothing but chaos in his head, and until he sorted that out, he doubted he’d be fit company for anyone.
After a time, he drifted off to sleep only to be jolted awake again when the conductor called out the name of his stop. He glanced around, making sure he hadn’t left anything scattered on the seat, then waited for the train to brake. This was it—his chance to prove himself. He supposed that if this didn’t work, he could find a job elsewhere, but with the expansion of the American West, most of it being done by railway, he figured this was the surest bet.
He disembarked on the train platform and grabbed his satchel as soon as it was unloaded from the baggage car. Then he stood there, feeling disoriented. Where should he go from here?
He cleared his throat and walked up to the ticket booth. “Excuse me,” he said to the man working inside. “Where might I go to inquire about a job on the railroad? I was told the correct stop, but I was given no information beyond that.”
“You’re in luck, sir,” the man replied. “The gentleman you want is right over there.” He nodded, and Nicholas turned to see a round, mustached man wearing a plaid shirt and overalls loading railroad ties from the train onto his wagon. Two other men were with him, but there was no mistaking who was the boss.
“Thank you,” Nicholas said to the ticket master, then walked over to the wagon. He dropped his satchel on the ground and began to help moving the ties. They were awkward, but he didn’t find them heavy, so he was able to lift them with ease.
“You there, young man. Thanks for the hand,” the large man said, pausing to wipe his forearm on his sleeve.
The man looked him over. “I suppose you do look fit for it. Have you had any experience?”
“I have no experience working on the railroad, but I’ve done heavy labor all my life, and I’m not afraid of putting in a long day. I brought you this as well.” Nicholas pulled the recommendation letter from his pocket.
The man read it, flipped it over to see if there was anything on the back, and upon finding it blank, read the front again. “Mr. Brody seems impressed by your moral character,” he said. “I don’t know Mr. Brody, but I’ve heard of his hotel—a fine establishment. Very well, you have a job. I’m Walt Jensen, and you can ride out to camp with us when we’re done here. Finish up with these ties and then let’s be on our way.”
“Yes, sir. And thank you.” Nicholas reached out to grasp Mr. Jensen’s hand, but he had already turned to grab his next load. Never mind—nothing could put a damper on this moment. Nicholas had a job, a place to be. The first and most crucial step of recreating his life had just been taken.
After all the ties were loaded, Nicholas climbed on top of the stack with the other two men while Mr. Jensen clambered up into the driver’s seat.
“So, what’s your name?” the older of the two men asked.
“Nicholas Hardy. And yours?”
“I’m Pete, and this here’s Les.” Pete jerked his thumb toward the other man. “We don’t have time for long, fancy names, so you’re gonna be Nick.”
“I’m fine with that,” Nicholas replied. “I’m glad to know you both.”
“Now, I just want to make sure you know just what you’re getting into here,” Les said as the wagon jounced over a rut. “You said you were used to hard work, but I’m not sure you’re used to our kind of hard work. You ever swing a pickaxe for twelve hours a day?”
“I can’t say that I have, but I’m willing to give it a try,” Nicholas said good-naturedly.
A Careless Wind (Kansas Crossroads Book 7) Page 1