The Sailor and The Shrew Read online

  The Sailor and the Shrew

  A Sailors and Saints book for

  The American West Series

  Laura Stapleton

  Text and Cover Image Copyright © 2019 Laura L Stapleton

  Cover by Erin Dameron-Hill

  All Rights Reserved.

  No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the author or publisher.

  Names, characters, and some incidences are imaginary and complete fiction. The places are real whenever possible and some geographical names have been changed since the story took place.

  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

  The American West Series

  The Complete Oregon Trail Series

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Bertrand DuBoise hated the sea. He also hated the ocean, seagulls, and fish. After what he’d been through in the past few years, Bert wanted as far from a large body of water as a person could be. During the entire train ride east, he’d struggled to keep from pressing his nose against the window glass in awe at the scenery. The wide-open land out here had kept him staring into the vastness as he rolled closer to his new home. When the Black Heart’s crew dropped him off in San Francisco several months ago, he’d telegraphed his family as soon as possible. He’d found a place to stay before writing a proper letter to them about wanting a better life. Their next letter offered him a solution with the Sailor’s Rest School near where he was staying. His sister-in-law spoke highly of the people who ran the place, writing about how they could help him find a brighter future.

  When Bert arrived at the school, Miss Xenia alongside her husband, Birch, took him in as a student. They helped him learn a few things necessary for livestock care in the landlocked part of the United States. Even better, no one pressured him to do tasks before he was ready. He enjoyed living there, but still, the school was too close to the sea, which made it difficult for him to relax enough to sleep at night. After sending a letter to his sister, Ellen, and his brother, Henry, he agreed to head east to help the Jones. Or rather, to let the Jones help him.

  As the train eased to a stop outside of Cheyenne, Wyoming, people around Bert stood one by one in anticipation. He stayed seated to reread his letter from Reverend George Jones once more before disembarking. The man’s words refreshed his spirit before he put the message away in his full carpetbag. Bert made his way through the empty car to the door. Most of the items he owned were new, since working on the ship had torn up the few clothes he’d been shanghaied in.

  Bert stepped onto the train station platform, taking a deep breath of prairie-scented air. The freshness reinvigorated him. He rejoiced in never needing to think about his time on the Black Heart ever again. With Wyoming being his chance to make a new life for himself, he wanted to be a success out here. An odd breeze blew east to west, rolling tumbleweed along the street in front of him. He followed its path, his gaze settling on the new buildings lining the dusty street.

  A couple matching the Jones’ description waited at the far end of the depot platform to his left. The lady wore a simple dress with flowers. Calico, his sister would have said. Her companion, a portly man in a black suit kept to her side. Bert pressed his bag against his leg. They didn’t need to see how the top half of his fingers were missing from his hand facing them just yet. He’d rather not have their sympathy. He might be limited, but didn’t figure the missing finger joints stopped or even slowed him. Much.

  The two stepped up to him, the man holding his hand out to Bert. “Hello, you must be Bertrand DuBoise?” After he nodded, they shook hands before the man continued, “I’m Reverend George. This lovely woman with me is Mrs. Jones.”

  “Please, call me Joan.” She held out a hand for him to shake as well.

  Bert took her fingertips gently in deference to her ladylike demeanor. She, along with her husband, had kind eyes. He felt as if he’d known them forever. “A pleasure, ma’am.” He addressed the Reverend. “Sir. Thank you for meeting me here.”

  “Our pleasure, son.” He put an arm around his wife. “We have work lined up for you. Mostly inside, as you’d requested. We’ll stop there first so you can meet your new boss.” He held Mrs. Jones’ hand as she stepped to the ground from the tall platform. “Then, it’s on to your new home.”

  Joan added, “We can always make different arrangements if neither work nor home is what you’d like.”

  “I’m sure both are better than I’d expected, ma’am.” He fell into step beside the couple as they headed for a nearby boardwalk. Joan fell behind them as the approaching people narrowed their path at times. Bert noticed most of the buildings seemed to have been built earlier than those close to the train station, judging by the grayed wood. He tried to take in everything at once, almost missing his chance to follow as the Reverend rounded the street corner with his wife.

  When Bert caught up to them, Reverend George asked, “Was your journey here pleasant?”

  “Nothing untoward happened, so yes, very pleasant.” His left hand ached from tightly gripping the wooden handle so he shifted the bag to his right. He kept his free hand clenched so the missing fingertips wouldn’t show. The Jones seemed like lovely people, so he didn’t want to become frustrated over answering questions about his injury. “The mountains, plains were both scenic in their own way.”

  “I reckon so.” Reverend George paused in front of a hotel, letting another man exit before holding the door for his wife plus Bert. “Here’s where we’ve found your employment.”

  Bert stepped through into the large lobby. The place had a luxurious scent to it, like fine leather with a hint of citrus. He took in the surroundings, a little in awe at the rainbows reflected in the crystal chandelier before nodding. “It’s very nice.”

  “I believe we’ve overwhelmed the poor boy,” Joan said before she nudged her husband. “Let’s find Mr. Bromley to let him know Bertrand is here.”

  Her use of a name his sister yelled when he was in trouble as a child had him chuckling. “You can call me Bert, ma’am.”

  “I will. Please feel free to call me Miss Joan, Bert.”

  He stopped staring at the chandelier to smile at her. “Point taken, ma—um, Miss Joan.” His trance broken by their conversation gave him a chance to examine the hotel lobby. The large room’s décor was as fine as any he’d seen in Portland or San Francisco. The wood floor’s shine reflected light from overhead. Wooden columns stood as sentinels on each side of the entry. The marble front desk was unmanned. A check in book lay open, ready for the next guest to sign in for the evening. To the right of Bert, a fireplace with matching marble inlay sat cold at the center of a sitting area. On the opposite side, French doors leading into a dining room were closed.

  The Reverend tilted his head toward the rear of the building. “Let’s see if Bromley is in his office before we begin asking around.” He led the way to a smaller hallway beyond the restaurant’s entrance.

  A youngish woman, not much older than Bert, hurried up to them as if to pass by. Joan stopped her with a hand. “Miss? Do you happen to know if Mr. Bromley is in his office?”

  She nodded, shifting the basket of napkins to her other hip. “I do. He is. His door on the left should be op
en.”

  Joan smiled. “Thank you, miss.”

  Bert couldn’t help but stare at the prettiest woman he’d ever seen. Even in the dim light, her dark blue eyes shown. Her blond hair gleamed, too. Her skin was a little tanner than most fashionable ladies allowed. He found the color suited her far better than the usual pale. She dressed a little more modestly than other women did, excluding Miss Joan, of course. He couldn’t quite place her accent, spoken with as sweet a voice as he’d ever heard. The woman had favored Bert with a glance but otherwise ignored him completely. He almost minded the dismissal, except now he was free to stare as much as he liked during her chat with the Jones.

  “You’re welcome.” She gave a brief smile to the couple, a cool nod to Bert before continuing on through the restaurant doors.

  Once she was out of earshot, Reverend George leaned in closer to his wife. “I don’t remember her.”

  “No, she’s not one of our girls,” Joan replied with a shake of her head.

  “Yours?” Bert couldn’t help but ask. “I didn’t know you had daughters.”

  “Not yet, no, but I mean she’s not a young lady in our congregation.” Reverend George continued toward Bromley’s office. “They’re not our true daughters, but we love them as much as we would our own.”

  Joan nodded in agreement. “Everyone is dear to us.” She followed her husband. “You’ll see, once you attend our services. We have the best parishioners in town.”

  “Darling, you’re bragging.” Reverend George stopped in front of an open door. “Bert will think we’re ungodly.”

  “Silly man, I’m bragging on them, not us.” She smiled at her husband “We have nothing to do with the quality of people around here.”

  A man’s voice rang out from inside of the room. “Is that Mrs. Jones I hear? Come on in!”

  The trio did as suggested, Bert happy to lag behind before meeting his new boss. Or rather, what was probably his boss’s boss. A little bit of nervousness hit before he shrugged off the feeling. He’d survived the Black Heart. He’d do just fine in the Bromley Hotel.

  Bert entered the room to find the three older adults waiting for him. “Good afternoon, sir. I’m Bertrand DuBoise.”

  “James Bromley.” The portly man stood with surprising grace. “A pleasure to meet you, son. I’ve heard good things about you from the Reverend here. Have you worked with horses before?”

  Bert grinned. He’d been around horses since birth. Except for his time on the Black Heart, he had loved every minute astride. “I have. I grew up on a large farm, rode horses since before grammar school.”

  “Excellent.” He settled back into his squeaking desk chair. Everyone else found their seats, too. “Now then, I’m sure the letter explained compensation?” At Bert’s nod, Mr. Bromley held up his hands for a moment. “I’m sure the amount seems a little small but, remember, you have room and board here as well. I’m sure we can come to an arrangement if you choose to live elsewhere.”

  He could imagine why some people might not want to live where they worked. Easy access by your employer wasn’t always a good deal for the employee. Still, he liked the idea of building a nest egg working here. “I don’t see why I would. The amount is more than enough for my needs.”

  “Good, good.” He withdrew a piece of paper, sliding the sheet across his desk. “I’d like for you to sign this saying you’ll inform me before bugging out somewhere else.” He opened the inkwell. “It’s nothing truly binding. I just wanted some notice when an employee decides to leave.”

  Bert took the inked pen from him. He didn’t mind letting Mr. Bromley know if he found work elsewhere, but wondered at the motivation. Did the man mean something more sinister? “What’re the consequences of telling you I’m leaving for other employment?”

  “Nothing, other than my trying to convince you to stay if you’re good at your job. I tend to care about my people, worrying if one of them goes missing.”

  He’d read the few lines of the contract. The words on paper echoed what the man had said, so he took the pen to sign his name on the line. “I appreciate your concern. It’s fine for me to tell you before I leave your employment.”

  “Excellent.” Mr. Bromley recapped the inkwell before sliding the signed document aside to dry. “Let’s have a toast to new beginnings.”

  Reverend George gave a pointed stare from the brandy decanters to Mr. Bromley. Mrs. Jones stared at her lap as Bromley cleared his throat to say, “I intended with water, of course. We have the finest well water in town.” Red faced, he waved a hand at Bert. “In fact, young DuBoise here can fetch us all a glass from the Gilded Swan. Just tell Matilda what you want. She’ll fix you right up.”

  “Matilda?” he asked, hoping he meant the woman with fair hair. He took her cool distance as a challenge to make her smile.

  “Yes, pretty girl, a little older than you I’d guess, serves in the Swan. Hard worker but takes a bit to get to know. Can’t miss Matilda, really. She’s always busy doing something around here.” He peered over the desk before adding, “You can leave your bag here for now.”

  How many of the young ladies were as brisk as the one Bert had met earlier? Few if none other than her, he’d wager. Nodding before hopping up, he said, “Yes, sir. I’ll be right back.”

  Chapter Two

  Bert left the room, eager to see Matilda again now that he knew her name. He didn’t have to go far before reaching the Swan’s double doors. The large dining room was empty; a lull in the hours between meals. He could figure out how to make up a tray of drinks. No need to bother Matilda with a task easy enough for him to do.

  “Hello? May I help you?”

  He spun around a little too fast when hearing his new coworker’s familiar voice. As the young woman from earlier walk into the room, he put his bad hand behind him. “I think so. Mr. Bromley wanted me to fetch glasses of water for four people. He said Matilda could help.”

  “He’s right.” She went past him toward the kitchen. “I can. Stay here. I’ll bring the tray to you.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He responded as she disappeared. The wait gave him a chance to look around the room. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Small ones, one for each table. Ornate chairs clustered around roughhewn tables. The furnishings seemed somewhere in the middle of luxurious, yet primitive. He suspected Bromley upgraded as profits allowed. As nice as the hotel was, Bert let his thoughts drift over to Matilda. She grew lovelier every time he saw her. Sure, the times might be as many as two, but still. The frown on her face didn’t detract from her appearance, even if he felt sure she’d be beautiful if she ever smiled.

  “Do I need to carry the tray for you? I suppose you can stand there looking simpleminded. Are you able to do as Mr. Bromley requested?”

  He woke up from his daydream, reaching out for the drinks before remembering his missing fingertips. Reluctant to let her see his injury, he took the tray in his right hand before sliding his left underneath. “Thank you. I can balance everything just fine.”

  Matilda wiped her hands on her apron, her attention not leaving the full glasses Bert carried. “Hmm. Very well. I’m here to assist if you need anything else.”

  Despite her cool demeanor, Bert felt her helpful words as if they were warmth from the sun. Maybe Matilda’s attitude was for the best. He’d bet anything a little come-hither glance from her would have him lovesick in an instant. “Thank you. I’ll keep your offer in mind should Mr. Bromley request anything else of me.”

  Her eyebrows met in a hard frown. “Will you be working here, then?”

  “Yes.” He wanted to impress her with a fancy job but he had nothing more important than stable hand. “I’ll be in the stables.” After one of her eyebrows rose, he added, “Working with the horses.”

  “I figured as much.” She crossed her arms, nodding at the tray he still held. “Don’t you have someone expecting a drink or two?”

  “Oh, yes. I do. Excuse me.” Hurrying toward the doors, he stopped after rememberi
ng his manners. “Thank you for your help.”

  A slight smile played around her lips. “You’re welcome. Now go, stop bothering me.”

  He waited for a few seconds as she disappeared back into the kitchen. She was pretty for a cranky little wench. He shook his head, continuing on to Bromley’s office. Yeah, she’d be lovely wearing any expression but a frown.

  Once inside his new boss’s cluttered office, Bromley was talking. “The missus is off on a shopping trip to Fort Casper until day after tomorrow. She’s promised me the housekeepers will be fine until then. We can let DuBoise get settled tonight. Start him out first thing in the morning.”

  Everyone paused for Bert when he offered water to Joan. She took a glass with a smile as did the men. He kept his bad hand under the tray before taking his own drink, then sitting. He let the tray rest against his chair’s arm. The cold drink hurt a couple of his teeth. He listened in on the older adults talking about the prior sailors the Jones had placed in various areas for Xenia and, her husband.

  “But you, young man, need to be shown where you’ll be spending most of your time.” Bromley stood. “Let’s visit the stable first. The others there can take you to the bunks. Reverend, ma’am, you’re welcome to join us.”

  Bert reached for his bag with his lame hand. The three of them followed as Bromley led the way out of the office into the hall. The air carried a new construction smell despite the aged carpets. After the older man opened the rear door, sunlight streamed into the hallway. The four stepped out onto the south side of the hotel, making their way to the stables.

  “You’ll be in here most of the time.” Bromley pushed the large door to the side just wide enough for them. “I like to keep this closed so it stays cool in the summer, then warm in the winter for the animals.”

  Bert stepped in behind the larger man, his eyes taking time to adjust to the darker interior. Two rows of stalls stretched out in front of them. A ladder to their immediate right led up to a second story. He saw three men staring at them from a balcony of sorts. Two were similar enough in appearance that he figured they were brothers. The third man was as fair-haired as the brothers were dark-haired. All three had suntanned skin, friendly expressions.