After a snort from her left, Matilda glanced at Mary’s empty hand. Janie was also waiting, so she picked up a plate to scrub. “Sorry. Lost in thought.”
“Hmm,” Janie replied. “If you were anyone else, I’d guess the new stable hand had you distracted.”
Mary giggled. “You don’t know, he just might.”
Matilda needed to nip this gossip in the bud before Bert heard. “No, I’m not thinking about him. I can’t even remember his name right now.” She hated lying, but really, her entire life after the House had been one huge falsehood. What would a few more matter? She needed to distract the others from the topic of her liking Bert. “The tables are wiped but did we sweep the floor?”
“Sure did, like always.” Mary took another clean dish from her. “Me, I’d be thinking about Bert if Asa wasn’t so handsome.”
Janie tsked, tucking a wayward blond curl behind her ears before resuming her drying. “Don’t let Sarah hear you say such a thing. She’s sweet on Asa as much as Clem’s sweet on you.”
Matilda gave them a side glance before picking up the wash pan. “You are all misguided for even thinking about liking someone here. Your affections sound like a fight waiting on a trigger.” She headed out of the kitchen to dump the dirty water. Holding the door open, she paused just long enough to holler back at them, “Glad I’m not in such a mess.”
The girls’ chuckles left Matilda grinning a little despite herself. Her shoes clumped on the wooden steps as she made her way to the side of the barn. Each time water needed tossing out, she or one of the girls found the driest spot possible. They had a nice little patch of green sprouting on the east side of the barn, too. Matilda liked seeing the plants, even if the birds or stray animals left littering scraps behind. Eager to see if the wildflowers’ tiny buds bloomed yet, she went around the corner to rinse out the tub’s residue. Bert appeared, meeting her nose to nose. Startled, she squeaked, jumping, splashing herself with the wash water. “Oh, mercy! You’re such a sneak.”
His quick smile faded to guilt. “Sorry.” Bert took her washtub. “Here, ma’am. Let me help you with that. It’s the least I can do after the drenching.”
She let the tub slip from her fingers to his, protesting, “You don’t need to. I’ve done this hundreds of times.”
He put his left hand under the container. “Maybe so, but there’s nothing saying I can’t help another person.”
Matilda wiped her hands on her apron, watching as he tossed the water near where she would have. Something left her uneasy about Bert, more than the way he didn’t seem affected by her matter-of-fact tone with him. He shook the sticky bits of food from the bottom of the tub. No, he acted far nicer to her than she expected anyone to be.
He tapped the metal bottom with several bangs. As helpful as he was being with her, she chatted with him despite the plan to keep a distance with him or any man. If she didn’t watch her actions, their talking might lead her into an unwanted friendship. She had goals in life other than being some man’s woman. Let one of the other servers or housekeeping girls tend to him. Matilda tapped her foot. She didn’t have time for a romance with him at all.
Bert ambled back to her. “There you go, ma’am. Ready for the next go around.”
She took the empty tub from him, a little impatient to push him away like she did the other stable hands. “Don’t you have work of your own?”
“Sure do.” He tilted his head to the side, his smile fading a little before he said, “Better get to it.”
She nodded, pretending to be interested in the tub's bottom. “That’s what I thought. Dinner is at seven, if no one’s told you. One of the other stable hands can help you if you have any questions.” She hurried back into the hotel without checking if he headed toward the stable.
Once inside the empty kitchen, the quiet appealed to her jangled nerves. Leftover soup simmered on the stove, making her hungry. Her stomach rumbling, Matilda put the tub on the small water pump’s spigot. She worked the handle until water ran into the bottom. Liquid hitting the metal made an echoing tinny sound. Being alone was nice. No rushing around or following anyone’s orders but her own. She gave the handle a couple of more pushes before stopping.
She swirled the water around, splashing the sides as well. Usually, she enjoyed the normal bustle. Solitude gave her too much time to think about her former home, her parents, Bert. She didn’t want to dwell on how his eyes sparkled whenever they saw each other. Adopting a curt attitude toward the other men was far easier than with Bert. His quick grin coupled with his calm demeanor lulled her into a security she figured had to be false.
Even if he was the best man in the world, something highly unlikely, any feelings for him needed stopping before they tried to start. Satisfied the tub was clean enough for the supper dishes, she dumped the water next to the back door’s steps. Wildflowers might grow there, too, thanks to her. The rich scent of soup cooking on the stove greeted her again when she returned to the kitchen. Her stomach growled, so she put away the wash pan before dishing up a bowl of soup, with a piece of bread resting on the top.
Matilda ate, leaning against the counter. No one had come in during her cleaning or afterward. She had to smile, figuring they had enough sense to take full advantage of the slight break between lunch and dinner. Taking care of a few chores in her room might pass the time since being busy kept her from wandering into the stable to talk with Bert again.
The spoon clattered against the empty bowl.
Yes, a bit of laundry, some dusting, then it’d be time to get ready for dinner.
She set her dish in the tub then took a pitcher from the shelf to fill with wash water. Satisfied she had enough to rinse her nightgown, she hurried to her room on the second floor. She rented her lodgings from the hotel. Mr. Bromley let his staff rent at half price if they needed accommodations. She felt his requirements were more than fair in how they were expected to keep their rooms clean. Even better, considering how good his cooks were, they could eat whatever the guests didn’t at mealtimes. Secretly, she figured the Bromley’s would never be rich by being so generous. Not that she’d complain. Free food was good food, in her opinion.
After opening her unlocked door, she poured the water into her small washbasin before finding her nightgown from on top of the bed. She soaped up the garment, giving it a scrub, before rinsing it in the water. Once washed, the thin material would have time to dry before tonight. One benefit of leaving a humid Missouri to move to Wyoming was the much dryer air. Matilda wrung out the damp garment before draping it over her slight headboard.
The south-facing room seemed a little stuffy in the afternoon sun. Her window wasn’t large, but could be opened enough to let in a breeze. She pulled up the sash. A gust of cool air ruffled the lace curtains, giving her goosebumps. Bromley had designed the hotel to give everyone a chance at a window in their rooms. Even though guests on the third floor often made noise, an open window would let in night air along with night sounds enough to help drown out the rowdier guests.
She breathed in deep, staring across at the stable. There wasn’t much space in the courtyard, just enough for the largest of conveyances to roll up before the stable hands took care of them. A buggy sat there as a family disembarked. She searched the area to see if anyone was working outside. Asa came out with Bert to take the horses. Then, a couple of the bellhops started offloading luggage. She sighed. None of them stayed here long enough for her to remember their names.
Matilda placed her chin on her hand, her elbow resting on the windowsill when another family arrived in a wagon. The rest of the stable hands came out to care for the horses or unload luggage. Clem led the first buggy away as Bert helped one of the young ladies from the wagon to the ground. The two held hands, looking into each other’s eyes for far too long. Where were this young lady’s parents? Obviously not paying attention to what was happening under everyone’s noses.
Matilda frowned. She didn’t care who the stable hands talked to at all. Bes
ides, she needed to wash other intimate items before the next meal. Scrubbing stains from her clothes appealed to her far more than watching Bert flirt with some little ol’ gal.
Soon, a pair of socks joined her nightgown with the petticoat on the headboard to dry. A knock on the door startling her, she opened up to find Sarah there, ready to knock again. “Dinner time?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
Sarah nodded. “Yep. An early one, thanks to some newly arrived guests.”
She returned Sarah’s nod even as the other girl rushed off to the kitchen. Matilda closed the window to just a crack to keep the dust out, before following the other server. She hurried, almost running into a bellboy on his way up to the guest rooms. “Sorry.”
“Sure, you didn’t mean to bump into me, sweetheart.” he said with a snort before going on.
By the time she recovered from his insinuation, he was gone. The man’s crude attitude was the exact reason she refused to befriend anyone. Most men took her politeness much too far, acting as if she were offering a lot more than good manners. Matilda was almost glad he’d been rude. She needed the reminder of men’s baser motives. As she entered the kitchen, she renewed her decision to keep to herself no matter what sort of man life threw her way.
By the time the new arrivals ate and were on their way, the dinner rush had begun. Being too busy to think was her favorite way to be. Then, she couldn’t dwell on her former life or the people in her new one.
“Matilda.”
She glanced up from the stack of dirty dishes, answering Stew with a, “Yes?”
He nodded at the empty shelf above the cook stove. “The dining room is cleared out enough for the staff dinner.”
Janie took the last order from Stew, carrying the plates to the last customers. Giving out a whoop, Dean scraped the grill. Stew filled plates for the rest of the staff. A few customers remained in the dining room, but not enough to keep the servers from eating their meals in quick bites, if necessary. Matilda took the washtub full of dirty water to the back door, deciding to give the east side wildflowers another drink. She dumped the water in a bare spot. With any luck, the entire space between the two stables would be a garden of sorts.
Her growling stomach reminded her of dinnertime. She was close enough to the stable. Letting the boys know about their meals would be a mannerly thing to do. After setting the tub next to the door, she headed for the stable. The big door was open, the lamps unlit. She stepped inside the barn, spotting a couple of the bellboys sitting around with a couple of the stable hands. Before she could wonder why they were goofing off in here instead of waiting in the lobby for guests, Matilda heard one of them talking.
“Yeah, she’s a prime gal I’d like to break in. Maybe all she needs is a good stud to tame her.”
Matilda’s chin snapped up at the crude remark. Before she could step in to tell him just where to put his quirt, the other bellhop added, “Naw, she’s a bad mare that can’t be broken. Better off to just turn her out to pasture, hope for a lightning strike.”
“Come on. She isn’t that bad,” Asa said. “Besides, the new guy hasn’t had a crack at taming her, yet. Let’s wait until Matilda’s bucked him off before we send her off to the glue factory.”
Her heart pounding in her chest, she took a few steps forward. The laughter died to silence. She glared at each of them, ignoring the hurt of their comparing her to an animal. “I didn’t realize we had a horse with my name.” A movement caught her eye. She saw Bert climb down from the upper floor, with Clem soon after. She addressed the stable hand she knew the best, Asa, saying, “I’m sure you didn’t mean to imply rude things about me.”
Bert stepped closer to her, frowning. “What did these yahoos say to you? I wasn’t listening.”
She put her hands on her hips, tears stinging her eyes at the thought of telling Bert the horrible words they’d said. “I won’t repeat their vile words. In fact, I expected the bellhops to be appalling. It’s their nature, but not you others.” She glared at Asa first, then Clem before turning to Bert. “You’re all polite to my face but rude to my behin—,” she stopped her rant, knowing where their minds might go. “Never mind,” she croaked. “It’s dinnertime. Consider yourselves told.” She spun on her heel, leaving as fast as walking on a hay-covered floor allowed.
Her eyes filled with tears as she hurried past the cooks in the kitchen, toward the staircase that would lead her to the second floor. Keeping her chin lowered might prevent them from noticing her dour mood. She didn’t linger in the stairwell, hitching her skirt, taking the steps two at a time. Her room her only haven, Matilda locked the door before sinking on her bed in a daze. She lay on her back, closing her eyes to ward off a crying storm. The words, “bad mare, break, glue, lightning strike” wouldn’t leave her mind. Tears fell, wetting her temples before rolling into her ears. She never wanted to make friends, certainly, but this? She couldn’t go far enough from home to keep ahead of a rumor about her mother’s profession. No one knew, but if the male workers here ever found out where she came from? Experience from living at the House had told her the men would do far more than joke about breaking her in.
She sniffed, wiping her face with the back of her hand. One positive aspect about the men working here with their rude opinions remained in her mind: no one would protest when she packed up before leaving for good.
Chapter Six
Bert glared from one bellhop to the other until staring at Asa. “Well? What did you say to the lady?”
“I didn’t,” Asa replied, holding up his hands. “These two were talking about breaking her in like a wayward mare.”
One bellhop snickered. “That’s not all of it. Asa here said we oughta send her to the glue factory like the horse she is.”
“I didn’t, not exactly,” Asa replied. Crossing his arms, he added, “Anyway, Shep here said she ought to be hit by lightning. That’s just as bad as glue.”
Bert’s pulse pounded in his ears. If any of these men knew what life was like living with others just like them, they’d be singing a different tune. “All of it is bad. Real bad. No wonder she’s shrewish after hearing such talk from you all.”
Shep’s cohort as a bellhop, Larry, shrugged. “She started it by being mean first.”
“I don’t care,” Bert growled. “A lady like Matilda deserves respect as much as any man does. You can’t get manners from a gal if you aren’t mannerly.” He shook his head. “I’d ask all three of you to apologize to her but I don’t think you’re smart enough to know what you’ve done wrong.” He saw Larry smirk at Shep, frustrating Bert. He didn’t have the time or the inclination to convince them of anything. Matilda was somewhere, upset, something he needed to fix. “Fine. I’ll go apologize for all of us.”
He left the group, ignoring the murmuring behind him. Once in the kitchen, he glanced around. Three of the serving ladies cleaned the last few dirty dishes. Matilda wasn’t there, so he continued on to the dining room. One diner remained, no Matilda, so Bert figured she must be in her room.
Only which one? Once on the second floor, he figured lamplight might shine through the space at the bottom of a door. Bert checked each room. Sure enough, only one had a light faintly lighting the floor. He knocked, waiting for a moment afterward. There was no answer except for shuffling noises, so he knocked again. She may not want to let him in, but she still needed to hear an apology, even if he wasn’t the one who’d spoken so unkindly about her.
Her door opened a crack, enough for her to peek out. She didn’t meet his eyes, her voice wavering as she said, “Shouldn’t you be eating dinner by now?”
A tear rolled down her cheek. He eased the door open enough to wipe her face a bit. “I can eat later, after I apologize for the others’ bad behavior. They’re too chicken to come here themselves.” She opened the door a little wider. Encouraged, Bert added, “They had no reason or right to be so mean. No one needs to break you. Plus, I wouldn’t let anyone try.”
She stepped aside, w
iping her face with the back of her hand. “So, does this mean I’m safe from visiting a glue factory?”
“From lightning, too. Don’t forget that,” he quipped as she stepped out of her room without closing the door behind her. Bert couldn’t help but look inside out of curiosity. A carpetbag lay open on her bed with various fabrics stuffed inside. He suspected her room appeared sparsely furnished from packing.
When Matilda followed where he was staring, she rushed over, shutting the bag in a hurry. “No need to pry. You caught me during cleaning. Just cleaning.” She snapped the bag, shoving it under her bed before facing him with her arms crossed. “No one cares what I do, so there’s no need to tell anyone.”
Bert didn’t want tonight’s events to drive away Matilda. He leaned against the doorframe, hovering between joining her in her room or staying outside for propriety’s sake. Wanting to know if she wanted to leave Bromley’s hotel, he asked, “Do you enjoy working here?”
“I did.” She crossed her arms, staring at his feet. “Now, I don’t know if I do.”
He wasn’t sure what to say. Should he convince her to work out her problems with the other workers, or was she right in looking elsewhere for work? She didn’t seem to be the type to run when things became difficult, but on the other hand, anyone could do anything. “Have you found a new place to go already, then? Somewhere you like better than here?”
Matilda shook her head before she let her chin drop to her chest. As she started sobbing, Bert groaned. He couldn’t handle a woman’s tears. He took a few steps closer, near enough to touch her on the shoulder. “Hey, come on. This will all work out. You’ll see.”
She turned to face him, putting her arms around him, her tears continuing to fall. Holding her in his arms, she seemed so much smaller now. He cradled her as if she were an injured dove, resting his cheek against the top of her head.
After a minute or two, her sobs eased a little. From what he’d learned about Matilda in the past couple of days, Bert felt as if her reasons for being upset reached deeper into her heart than a few young men being ornery. “Want to tell me what’s really bothering you? ‘Cause I suspect a sharp-tongued woman like you wouldn’t bawl over a few yahoos like the mangy crew working here.”
The Sailor and The Shrew Page 4