A Shelter of Hope (14 page)

Simone had never thought about a job. She had very few job skills outside skinning and preparing furs for market. Perhaps there was someone in this town who worked in the pelt business. She thought to ask the woman, then changed her mind.

“Thank you for your help,” Simone replied, keeping her fears and concerns to herself. One way or another, she would survive in this town. It certainly couldn’t be any worse than what had awaited her in Uniontown.

And then Simone was alone. Alone in a city with thousands and thousands of people. She had never seen so many people! Standing in the middle of the rushing throngs, Simone felt shaken and wondered if she should take what little money she had left and get back on the train. At least some of the other towns she’d passed through didn’t seem half so big. She glanced upward, looking beyond the street corner. Tall buildings, just as her mother had described, rose around her and spread out in the distance. Chicago!

“Out of the way, girl,” a harsh voice called.

Simone glanced up to find a matronly woman pushing her way through the crowd. Following her were three young girls, all who were dressed in such lavish finery that Simone could do nothing but stare. Their gowns were pale pink and trimmed in lovely spidery webs of lace and shimmering ribbon. They reminded Simone of a gown her mother had once shown her. The dress had been something Simone’s mother had owned before marrying Louis Dumas. She had hoped to save it for Simone, but Louis had burned it in a fit of rage one night. Lovely dreams disintegrated in the greedy flames.

The girls bobbed by in perfect order, from tallest to shortest, following in confident silence. Their faces were turned upward, as if to acknowledge that nothing but the heavens deserved their attention. Simone could only glance down in disgust at her own miserable attire and shake her head.

After being bumped and jostled by the passing crowds, Simone forced her mind to concentrate on the instructions she’d been given. Moments later, she made her way up the street and finally felt her confidence begin to return. She emphatically reminded herself that she had lived in the rugged mountains of Wyoming. She had spent weeks traveling on her own through unfamiliar territory. She had trapped and hunted for her food, had made shelter for herself and havens of safety. For more years than she cared to remember, she had been required to take care of herself. Why should this big city be any more of a challenge than the wilderness had been?

The people around her hardly gave her a moment’s notice, and for the most part were too busy scurrying for carriages or hacks to give Simone any notice. For this, she was grateful. As she drew farther away from the station, Simone found fewer people, but the activities were still considerable. As was the noise. Such noise!

Wyoming had been a tomb of silence compared to Chicago. She found it impossible to take everything in at once as bells, animals, and traffic noise blended in a chaotic rhythm. Then, too, the smell amazed and overwhelmed Simone. The stench of industrial smokestacks mingled with the smoke from the trains was only a fraction of the odors emitted by this strange city. And wrapped around the smells came the ever-present shouts and cries of the street vendors.

Grateful that her trek took her even deeper into what appeared to be a lower-class neighborhood, Simone no longer felt quite so selfconscious. Here she found women dressed similarly to herself. Simple cotton skirts and blouses, usually accompanied by aprons and children, revealed that these women were more her equals than many of the passengers aboard the train into town.

The closer she drew to her appointed destination, the more comfortable Simone grew. Debris and trash lined the streets, while shoddylooking characters called out from two-wheeled carts.

“Fresh fish! Get ’em fresh!” a man called from behind her, while another vendor with fruits and vegetables volleyed for customers’ attention.

The wind began to pick up again, as it had off and on since she started her journey from the depot. The woman on the train had told her that Chicago was well-known for its windy temperament, telling of a fire that occurred nearly twenty years earlier that had wiped out most of the town. The woman had blamed the winds for adding to the problem, citing that this, along with the poor response of the fire brigade, had rendered Chicago helpless. It didn’t appear to Simone that the city had suffered overly from that destruction. She’d never seen so many buildings in one place.

A woman scurried past, clutching a newspaper-wrapped article in her arms. The two small boys at her side also juggled packages, and when one of them tripped and began to cry, the woman halted and fussed over the child in motherly fashion. Simone froze in her steps not four feet away. Something about the mother’s tenderness brought poignant memories of her own mother.

“There, now,” the woman cooed, “you’re all right. Let’s get home to Granny and fix us a fine feast before Papa gets home.” The boy, his lower lip still quivering, nodded and reached back down for his bundle.

A piece of the newsprint had come free from the boy’s package and blew back against Simone’s skirts. She reached down to retrieve the piece and thought to offer it up to the woman, but when she straightened, the woman had already moved off. Glancing down at the newspaper, a boxed advertisement caught her attention.

WANTED: Young women. 18–30 years of age, of good moral character, attractive and intelligent as waitress in Harvey Eating Houses on the Santa Fe Railroad in the West. Wages 17.50 per month with room and board. Liberal tips customary. Experience not necessary. Apply at the Harvey Employment Office, Eighteenth and Wentworth.

“Experience not necessary,” Simone murmured, wondering about this Harvey Eating House and its other requirements. She wasn’t yet the required age, but while she was small in stature, Simone figured she could easily pass for eighteen. Still, it would be a lie to say she met the standards when she didn’t. And she wasn’t all that sure she could convince anyone that she was “of good moral character, attractive and intelligent.” But she had to try. After all, it required no experience, and the pay seemed very good. It offered her room and board, plus it promised to place her somewhere in the West on the Santa Fe Railroad. She wasn’t at all familiar with where that might lead her, but it was at least worthy of consideration. Perhaps Mrs. Taylor would know something of this Harvey House matter.

ELEVEN

ELVIRA TAYLOR GREETED her with stilted reserve until Simone produced the letter of reference. The woman eyed the note for a moment, then studied Simone intently.

“You came in on the train with Grace, eh?”

Simone hadn’t realized her traveling companion’s name but nodded in affirmation. “She thought you might have a room I could rent.”

Mrs. Taylor nodded. “I have one room left. Ain’t much to look at, that’s for sure, but it’s warm and dry. It’ll cost you fifty cents a day. You got that kind of money?”

Simone nodded. “I’m not sure how long I’ll need it. I plan to apply for a job with the Harvey Eating House. Do you know anything about them?”

The woman’s face lit up. “Do I! My own daughter Rachel is housemother to a passel of Harvey Girls in Topeka, Kansas. They train ’em there, you know.”

Simone shook her head. “I really don’t know much at all about them. What is this Santa Fe Railroad, and where does it go?” she asked, glancing down at the advertisement.

“Oh, the Santa Fe is a line that goes south across Kansas and down along the south way of the nation. They go clear to California, on the edge of the ocean. ’Course, most of the stops are completely removed from civilization, and my Rachel says that some women would rather not find themselves stuck out there with nobody but railroad folk to talk to.”

“Doesn’t sound half bad to me,” Simone murmured, having no idea where these places might be.

“Well, you’ll have to clean up a sight better than this,” Elvira chided her. “You need to look your best when you go to the employment office. Do you have something nicer to wear?”

Simone looked down at her patched wool skirt. “No.”

“Well, if you have extra money, I’d suggest you go up the street to Handerman’s Used Clothing Store. They have some good bargains there, and the clothes are really nice. He takes in the stuff the well-todo folks get rid of.”

Simone nodded. “All right, I’ll do that. Whereabout is Eighteenth and Wentworth? That’s the address on this piece of paper.”

“I’ll draw you a bit of a map when you’re set to go. Right now let me show you the room. I require cash up front for at least a week’s stay.”

The train ticket had taken a good bit of her money, and Simone felt reluctant to part with yet another large amount. “Does that include meals?”

“Sure does,” Elvira said, grabbing up a key and motioning Simone to follow her upstairs. “Three meals a day and a hot bath. We’ve got electric lights and running water. That’s why I have to charge full price for rooms.”

Simone glanced up at the electric light at the top of the stairs. It fascinated her the way the thing illuminated the hall around them. There seemed to be so much more in this world than she had ever known back in Uniontown.

“Whereabouts you from?” Elvira asked as she paused to insert the key in a nearby door.

“Wyoming Territory,” Simone answered honestly, then thought better of it.

“Ain’t a territory no more. Leastwise, it won’t be. I read in the newspaper that they’re making it a state.” She reached to the wall and immediately the room was flooded in light.

Simone had no knowledge of this and even less understanding as to why it should matter. However, the light fascinated her.

“How did you make the lights come on?”

Elivira eyed her strangely, then showed her the workings of the switch before pointing out the rest of the room. “Like I said, it ain’t much.”

Simone noted the small iron bed and washbasin. At the foot of the bed was a small dresser, but otherwise the room was bare, a single tiny window offering the only view.

“Don’t use the light unless you have to. And turn it off if you leave the room,” Elvira told her. “I’ll take your money now.”

Simone counted out three dollars and fifty cents, then asked for directions to the clothing store. The way she saw it, there was no time to be lost on idleness.

The next morning Simone felt—and looked—like a new woman. She had taken a hot bath in Elvira’s thoroughly modern bathing room, then donned her new suit of blue serge. The suit and blouse had cost her plenty, and because of this, Simone had opted not to purchase shoes to go along with the outfit. She knew her moccasins were hardly considered proper, but she figured she could hide them well enough beneath her skirts. She had no plans to hire a carriage, so there would be no need to expose her feet as she climbed up to take a seat, and should she have to negotiate stairs, she would simply be mindful of her condition and take extra care.

Her hair worried her. She had seen the intricate and fascinating coiffures of the Chicago ladies at the train station. Here at Mrs. Taylor’s boardinghouse she was equally fascinated by the neat and tidy buns sported by her landlady and by the spinster schoolteacher who had the room next to hers. She tried to imitate what they had done but found it impossible, so she finally settled on braiding her clean ebony hair down the back.