Brides of Iowa (4 page)

“Morning, Gideon.” The silver-headed pastor handed Gideon a scrap of paper. “Here’s my wife’s list. How’s business?”

“Well Pastor, things are getting a little tighter all the time.”

Fatherly concern deepened the lines around the preacher’s eyes. “That a fact? Does this have anything to do with Henry Kilgore taking over the Emporium?”

Gideon pulled two cans of applesauce from the shelf and set them on the counter before pausing to look at the preacher. “I know every man has a right to make a living.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Kilgore is undercutting my price on just about everything. I understand that times are tough. If folks can save a few cents by going to the Emporium, I don’t suppose I can blame them.” He heaved a deep sigh. “But Pastor, he’s pulling so many of my regular customers away from me, I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to stay in business. And I’ve cut my own prices to the bare minimum.”

Gideon cast a glance toward the boardwalk and lowered his voice. “For the past two years, Kilgore’s been buying up businesses all over town. He owns the hotel and, of course, his saloons, the newspaper, the tannery, even seven or eight of the farms around here. He practically forced Mr. Lee to sell the Emporium last year. Cully told me Kilgore is trying to buy the livery. Why?”

The preacher frowned. “I can’t understand why Kilgore is doing this. Besides the Emporium, seems like he owns half the town now, and I hear tell he’s trying to buy the bank.”

“The bank? Can he do that?”

Pastor Witherspoon scratched his head. “I suppose, if he’s got enough money.”

“No doubt about him having enough money.” Gideon resumed filling the preacher’s order. “He wants to buy me out.”

“What? Gideon, you mustn’t sell. If Kilgore gets control of this place, he’ll fix prices and we’ll all be at his mercy.”

“I know that, Preacher. The fact is, my dream is to sell this place and start a horse breeding farm. I’ve been looking at some land, and I’ve sent out some inquiries about purchasing breeding stock.” Gideon placed a box of lucifers beside the pastor’s accumulated order and paused to search the kindly older man’s face. “Pastor, I want to sell the mercantile to anybody but Kilgore, but his is the only offer I’ve gotten.”

The preacher rubbed his chin. “I’ll surely pray about this. You can count on that.”

The bell on the door drew their attention as Tessa Langford walked into the store. Her faded green dress was clean, and her hair was neatly wound and pinned into a bun. When he smiled at her, she looked at the floor and twisted her fingers.

“Hello, Tessa. It’s nice to see you again.”

“Hello…Gideon. Hello, Pastor Witherspoon.” Her voice was so soft Gideon barely caught her response.

“Tessa.” The preacher smiled at her. “I heard you and your father had already pulled out. I guess I was mistaken.”

Tessa’s chin lifted a tad, and she straightened her shoulders. “No, Pastor, you weren’t mistaken. I think Papa left yesterday morning.”

Gideon and the preacher traded looks, and Pastor Witherspoon’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean, you think he left? Are you saying that you didn’t know he was leaving?”

Tessa blinked several times while her chin quivered, but she simply shook her head. “No, I didn’t.” She turned to Gideon. “I wondered if there might be a position available here at the mercantile. I am in need of employment.”

Anger rushed through Gideon. He didn’t understand the malice with which Tessa’s father lashed out at her and could only attribute it to the man’s drunkenness, but what kind of a father abandoned his daughter? He swallowed back the remark he wanted to make.

“Tessa, do you have a place to live?”

She dropped her gaze again. “Well, yes I do, sort of.”

Pastor Witherspoon put his hand on Tessa’s shoulder. “Child, you aren’t old enough to be living on your own.”

The tiniest hint of a half smile tilted one corner of her mouth. “I’m nineteen.” She looked back at Gideon. “I’m old enough to take care of myself. All I need is a job.”

Indignation filled Gideon’s chest. Here she was, the same age as his sister who was engaged to be married. But Martha had a big brother to look out for her until her wedding day. Tessa had no one.

Her attempt to appear strong and composed was evident, unlike yesterday when her tears couldn’t be hidden. An inclination to protect this young woman filled him. He didn’t understand such feelings, knowing her only a few days. Someone certainly should be looking after her, but regardless of any willingness on his part, it didn’t change the facts.

“I’m so sorry, Tessa. I’m sorry your father went off and left you, and I’m especially sorry that I can’t hire you. I wish I could.”

“I wish I could.”

Tessa smiled. How she managed to smile in her position, he didn’t know, but it endeared her to him. She thanked him and bid the preacher good-bye and walked out the door. When she stepped onto the boardwalk, however, Gideon noticed her shoulders slump. Oh, how he hated being the cause of her disappointment. He watched her walk across the street and wondered how many more places would turn her away.

Tessa stared at the ornate decor in the hotel lobby while she waited for the clerk to finish checking in a gentleman. The room was fancier than anything she’d ever seen. Polished wood paneling and molding set off maroon and ivory wallpaper with gold filigrees. A crystal chandelier matched the sparkling wall sconces. Even the clerk behind the marble-topped desk wore a black linen coat and necktie.

When the transaction was completed, Tessa stepped forward.

The clerk, a middle-aged man with thin hair and a thick belly, swept a lecherous gaze over her from head to toe. “Well now, what can I do for you?” He arched one eyebrow. The corner of his mouth twitched in a salacious smile.

Tessa didn’t like the way he looked at her, but her need for a job pushed her uneasiness aside. “I’m looking for employment, sir. I can do just about anything. I can scrub and make beds, do laundry and—”

“Just about anything, huh? Well, Willow Creek can use some new talent.” His chuckle sounded purely evil. “But you’re in the wrong place, darlin’. You need to go over to the Blue Goose.”

“Blue Goose? What’s that?”

The man threw back his head and belly laughed, slapping his thigh. “The Blue Goose Saloon. It’s down the street a ways. Some fancy feathers and a little paint, not to mention getting you out of that flour sack dress, and you might be a real welcome addition to the stable down there.”

When Tessa understood his suggestion, she sucked in a sharp breath. Her face flamed with indignation. “Sir, that’s not the kind of employment I’m seeking.”

She spun and nearly collided with a portly gentleman with an unlit cigar sticking out of his teeth.

“Excuse me….” She attempted to step around the man, but he caught her arm.

“Whoa, not so fast there, young lady.” The cigar waggled up and down as he spoke, and she didn’t know how he managed to keep it from falling out of his mouth.

“My name’s Kilgore. I own this place. I heard you tell my clerk you need a job. Why don’t we go sit over here and talk?”

Hope sprang up in Tessa’s heart. She resisted glaring at the desk clerk and followed Mr. Kilgore through an arched doorway to a table in the corner of the hotel dining room. The same wallpaper that adorned the lobby covered the walls in this room. Fancy tapestry drapes embellished the windows, and the tables boasted fine linens and crystal glassware.

He held the maroon tapestry-covered chair for her and called to the waitress to bring two cups of tea. After he lowered himself to the chair opposite her, he interlaced his fingers and tapped his thumbs together. “Now, young lady, tell me about yourself.”

Tessa swallowed hard and fingered the edge of the ivory damask tablecloth. “I’m Tessa Langford. I can clean, do laundry, and cook. I’m good with sums, and I’m sure I could learn any job quickly.” The waitress arrived with the tea, and Tessa took the opportunity to smooth her faded dress.

Mr. Kilgore stirred sugar into his cup and sat back in his chair looking her up and down in the same manner as the desk clerk. “Have you ever waited tables?”

“No sir, but I’m sure I can learn.”

“You’d have to be friendly with the customers. The friendlier you are, the more they buy. If they like you, they might stick around for … other services.”

Confusion churned in her stomach. She glanced around the room. “I’m certain I can learn to wait tables, but I don’t understand what other services you mean.”

Mr. Kilgore removed his cigar and took a sip of tea. “Don’t be coy, Miss Langford. I’m not talking about waiting tables here in the hotel. You’re better suited to my other establishments. I own the two best saloons in town, the Gilded Lily and the Blue Goose. I’m always looking to hire fresh young women who know how to satisfy my clientele. The right girl can make good money. Of course, I take my cut, but you could do well.”

Tessa shot a glance through the archway to the hotel lobby. The desk clerk leaned forward on his elbows and watched her with a nauseating grin. She wanted to slap the faces of both men. Maybe Papa was right; the kind of degrading employment Mr. Kilgore was offering her was the best she could do, but honoring Mama’s memory prevailed. She’d rather starve than serve whiskey to men like Papa. She pushed her teacup away and stood. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kilgore, but I’m not looking for that kind of work.”

Before she could take a step, the man motioned for her to sit down. She didn’t sit but waited to hear if anything he had to say resembled an apology.

“All right, maybe you think this is a Sunday school picnic and you’re one of those people who thinks they’re better than anybody else. That’s fine, if you want to be pigheaded. I’m telling you, you could do a lot better, but if that’s what you want, I can use someone else here in the kitchen and dining room. Thirty-five cents a day.”

Tessa lifted her chin. “I need a place to stay, and I can’t pay rent on thirty-five cents a day.”

Kilgore scoffed. “I suppose you expect me to put you up in the grand suite?”

She stood her ground without blinking.

“Sassy little thing, aren’t you? All right, there’s a shed out back you can stay in, and I won’t charge you rent. But I have to warn you—the tips you’ll get here aren’t even close to what you’d make at my other establishments.”

Tessa remained standing. “Working in the kitchen and waiting tables in the dining room is just fine with me.”

Kilgore stood and looked her over again, then he called the waitress over. “Tillie, take Miss Langford here to the kitchen, and tell Flossie she’s the new worker.”

As Tessa turned to follow the girl, Kilgore called after her. “You think about what I said, and let me know if you change your mind.”

She paused and half turned. “I thank you for this job, Mr. Kilgore, but I won’t change my mind.”

The man hooked a thumb under his suspender and snorted. “Suit yourself.”

The woman named Flossie stirred a large pot of thick stew while she studied Tessa. With her free hand, she pushed back drab brown hair that had escaped its loose bun. Crow’s-feet framed her eyes. Suspicion steeled her gaze into a defensive wall. “Old man Kilgore might’ve said you was hired, but I ain’t gonna train anyone to take over my job.”

The cook’s declaration took Tessa aback. “Oh no, ma’am, I’m not here to take anyone’s job. It’s my understanding I’m supposed to work
with
you.”

The waitress, Tillie, crossed the kitchen. “Flossie, you keep askin’ how Kilgore expects us to do everything. Maybe she’s just here to help, like she says.” She took biscuits from the warming oven and added them to her tray. “Give her a chance.”

“Flossie, that’s all I want—a chance.”

The cook grumbled under her breath and turned her back to Tessa. “There’s an apron on the hook in the corner. You can get started scrubbin’ those pots. Don’t have to show you how to scrub pots, do I?”

“No ma’am.”

“Ma’am? Nobody calls me ma’am.”

Tessa poured hot water from the reservoir on the side of the huge stove into a bucket. “My mama taught me to show respect when I meet new people.”

Flossie just grunted and continued stirring. “Don’t know that you’re strong enough to be of much help. You’re a scrawny little thing.”