A Texas Legacy Christmas (3 page)

The twins had nothing to say, which surprised him, and in turn he could think of nothing clever. Adoption papers? He knew about the orphan trains that headed west with children. Some of those children found good homes, and others became nothing more than servants. Those couples didn’t meet with judges. Of course, he wasn’t married.

An hour later, Sister Agatha and Zack boarded the trolley to pay a call on the judge. Numb best described Zack. In his hand, he carried a copy of New York’s laws regarding the legal adoption of minor children by adult persons. Because of his scheduled departure the following afternoon, Sister Agatha wanted the judge to hear the case immediately.

The judge welcomed Sister Agatha and Zack into his chambers. He scrutinized Zack as though he were a criminal.

“Why do you want these children?” The judge removed his spectacles and laid them on his mahogany desk.

Why did he want them? He wasn’t sure he did. “Well, sir, I’m a newspaper reporter, and I covered the story about the Triangle Factory fire. It was a tragic event, and when I learned about the twins orphaned by it, I wanted to do something to help.”

“Adopting them is quite a ‘something.’ Who is going to care for them while you’re working?”

“I’m leaving New York tomorrow afternoon for my home in Texas. I’ve bought a newspaper there.”

“He has family in the town,” Sister Agatha said. “Women who could care for the children.”

The judge nodded. “Were you and the children’s mother, uh, involved?”

Zack sensed his face reddening. “No, sir. I know nothing about her.”

“It’s highly suspicious for you to want the children and immediately leave the city. Especially since you’re unattached and do not plan to marry in the near future.”

Zack moistened his lips. “I come from a good family and an excellent little town. My stepfather pastors a church there. One of my uncles is a doctor, and another is an attorney. Both sides of my family are good people of the community.”

“So they would vouch for you?”

“Yes sir.” Why did his heart sound like a hammer?

“You’re not planning to sell them, are you?”

“Absolutely not. As a Christian man, I don’t believe in such practices.”

The judge lifted a pen and dipped it into an inkwell. “I want both of your uncles’ names and how to contact them. I expect the attorney to write me concerning the welfare of the children.” The judge squinted at the paper. “The Sullivan children. This adoption will not be finalized until I hear from him. Is that clearly understood?”

“Yes sir.”

“That will be all.” The judge studied him again. “I hope you have a good head on your shoulders, young man, because this undertaking will not be easy. You can’t return children like they were puppies who chewed up your shoes.” He dismissed him and Sister Agatha with a nod.

Zack glanced at a smiling Sister Agatha. Her wrinkled face and apparent joy did not relieve his apprehension.

Lord, help me. I think my impulsive nature just got the best of me.

Friday morning, Chloe stirred eggs, peeled potatoes, and set out dishes for the boarders’ breakfast before Mr. Barton arrived on this first morning of her employ. He strode through the kitchen door like a noble king ready to issue a proclamation. She took note of his banded hat and fitted suit. Obviously, he wasn’t picking up a paintbrush this morning. She hadn’t noticed before, but his right hand was shriveled.

“I’ve had some good help this mornin’, Mr. Barton.” Simeon poured him a cup of coffee and added a generous spoonful of honey and lots of thick cream. “Would you like yer breakfast now?”

Chloe’s stomach still growled, but she’d not complain.

Mr. Barton pulled out his pocket watch. “We’ve got a good twenty minutes before getting started. Miss Weaver, you may not get a chance to eat until evenin’. Let’s get us a plate of breakfast and talk about all of your duties.”

She had no idea what she’d done right to deserve a whole plate of food, but she’d not refuse it. “Thank you, sir.”

They sat in the corner of the dining room. Mr. Barton said nothing while he hurried through his breakfast. He reached for his coffee. “I did some askin’ around and learned you’re a smart young woman.”

She thanked him with a nod since her mouth contained a delicious piece of crusty fried potato.

“Miss Scott says you were one of her prize students. She had a hard time keeping you busy in school. Had to send to Austin for harder arithmetic and more books for you to read.”

Chloe swallowed. “I enjoyed learning.”

He leaned in closer across the table. “Brother Whitworth says you never miss a Sunday or a Wednesday night prayer meeting. That’s real good, ’cause most folks with mixed blood tend to stay away from church.”

She wasn’t about to tell him her regular church attendance was due to her father’s abuse and not the mixture of Comanche and white blood flowing through her veins. God knew her heart.

“He also said your father died in a house fire a few weeks ago on a Wednesday night while you were at church.”

Chloe gazed into Mr. Barton’s deep blue eyes. What hadn’t he found out about her? Yet the newspaper had reported the fire and her father’s death. “Yes sir.”

“I don’t believe in hiring someone just because they need a job or been subject to hard times. I need people who can perform a task and do it well. If you can’t, you’re gone.” He raised his voice a tad. “See this?” He held up his withered right hand. “I’ve made it in this town because I work hard. Not because I expected someone to give me a handout.”

“Yes, sir. I understand. I don’t believe in charity. Never have.”

His gaze bore into her face. “The only reason I’m not doing the bookkeeping is that my penmanship is deplorable.” He took another swallow of coffee then pulled out his pocket watch again. “Three minutes to six o’clock. Time to get started. Good luck, Miss Weaver.”

In the next hour, Chloe learned how to register a new boarder, including what information to gather and how much money to collect in advance. Mr. Barton gave her a key to the small cash box and instructed her to guard it with her life. She pulled her only ribbon from her hair and threaded the key through it. Turning her back on Mr. Barton, she slipped the ribbon and key inside the bodice of her dress.

Mr. Barton’s instructions included showing her an empty boarder’s room, as well as the spare room behind the registration desk.

“Now, when a customer asks what the rooms look like, you can describe them in detail. Also, when a customer checks out, you remove the sheets and pillowcases and bring them downstairs to the kitchen. On Saturday mornings, all the beds are changed. Simeon has someone who picks up the linens and returns them clean. You make the bed and dust and sweep the room too. The chamber pots are to be emptied in the outhouse every morning and evening. Make sure you use the back staircase at all times. Treat this boardinghouse like your own home. Keep it clean and perform whatever duties need to be done. The customers are to be treated with the utmost respect and courtesy. No matter what they say, they are always right. No matter what they need, you fetch it for them. If Simeon needs help and you aren’t busy, you give him a hand. Make sure the customers are always happy. I’ll tell you more as you go along.” He snapped his fingers. “Newspapers are delivered on Saturday morning. Keep them on the front counter for the customers to purchase. It’s an honor system, but keep a watchful eye for those who take one and don’t leave a nickel.”

Mr. Barton took a deep breath as though he’d just delivered a regal declaration and pointed to the parlor. “On Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter, you’re free to go after breakfast. And with Christmas coming, we’ll want to decorate everything.”

How could she do all those things and keep an ear out for the bell above the door? “When the work is caught up after supper, then I’m free to go to my room?”

“That and all the entries made for the day. Once a week, I’ll bring you the books and receipts from the feed store to post figures. And you are free to do as you please on Sundays. I’ll help Simeon with meals before and after church. It gives me a chance to visit with the boarders.”

Chloe hoped she remembered everything Mr. Barton had instructed. He wanted the numbers written in the ledger a particular way and the book stacked beneath the counter with the spines out so he could grab them at any time. She saw strength and perfectionism in him, no doubt instilled at an early age from his crippled arm. A new respect for him surfaced. She’d been crippled too. Her spirit limped from the years of abuse, but things were changing. Soon she’d be able to walk the streets of Kahlerville with her head held high and ignore the jeers.

*****

“Now that you two have eaten, a bath is in order. Once we get to my apartment and build a fire in the stove, you are going to scrub long and hard.” Zack stood from the small table at a restaurant where he and the twins had eaten their fill of vegetable soup and bread.

“A bath?” one of them said. “Why? We had one not too long ago.”

“You’re Curly?”

The child nodded. Zack studied him and Charlie. How would he ever tell them apart? First thing in the morning, the boys would get new clothes for the trip home. That way he could assign them a particular color.

“It’s like this, Curly. You’re dirty, and tomorrow we’re heading to Texas on the afternoon train.”

“How far is this Texas?”

“It’ll take us a few days to get there.”

Curly ran his finger around the soup bowl and then popped it into his mouth. Those two definitely needed to learn some manners.

“Mr. Kahler, why did you take us?” Curly crossed his arms over his chest.

“Not sure myself. It just happened. Looked to me like you needed a good home, so I’m going to try to provide one.” Zack nodded at Charlie. “How’s come your brother never talks?”

Curly frowned. “Guess Charlie doesn’t have much to say.”

“Charlie, anything you want to ask me?”

The little boy shook his head.

“How much work are you going to give us?” Curly glanced over at Charlie’s bowl, which still held part of a spoonful of soup.

Without a word, Zack handed him his own piece of bread. “The only kind of work I can think of is schoolwork and a few chores.”

“Where are we gonna live?”

Zack rubbed his chin. He’d been thinking about that very thing. What was he going to do with twin boys? “I haven’t decided yet. I bought a newspaper office, so we need to live close to town.”

“What’s this Texas like?”

“It’s mostly country. Lots of farms and ranches in the community.” Zack waved his hands around the room. “There’s only one restaurant in town, and it’s at the boardinghouse. But I heard another restaurant is opening soon. It’s quieter there. Slower pace of life. I can tell you more about it on the train.”

Curly rested his hands under his chin. “Are you sure this isn’t a trick to make us work for you?”

Zack understood the suspicions. The twins probably didn’t trust anyone. New York had its share of mistreated children. “I give you my word. I don’t have any intentions of seeing you boys come to any harm.”

Curly fidgeted, glanced over at Charlie, then back to Zack. “There’s somethin’ I have to tell you.”

“Go ahead.” Zack had long sensed the boys were wasting time to prolong the bath.

“Charlie’s not a boy.”

*****

Long after sundown, Chloe labored over the cash box holding the day’s money. A number of guests had taken rooms, and she had counted the money twice before unlocking the cash box and placing it inside. She’d placed it behind the ledger book just like Mr. Barton had instructed. But when she’d added a new boarder’s money, Chloe discovered the cash box was short two dollars.

Her stomach churned. She could only imagine the accusations. Mr. Barton would have her arrested, and the town’s gossip would rise like chimney smoke on a cold morning. What had happened to the money? She’d been sure of the correct amount before helping Simeon with dinner. If only she had the two dollars to put into the cash box. This position was her opportunity to better herself, and now her mistake would give her free room and board at the jail.

The boardinghouse hushed as the residents retired to their rooms. Chloe removed every item she could find from behind the registration counter in an effort to find the lost money. Tears threatened to surface, but she bit them back. The grandfather clock in the foyer chimed eleven. Thoughts of running crossed her mind, except where would she go without any money?

The bell above the door tinkled, and she held her breath. Mr. Barton made long strides toward her.

“You’re working late.” His gaze fixed on her as if he knew her blunder.

“Yes, sir. I am.”

“Why?”

She thought her heart would burst from her chest. Surely he must have heard it. “I seem to have misplaced something.”

“What’s the problem?”

Chloe stood. Her knees trembled, and a lump settled in the back of her throat. “The cash box is short two dollars. I don’t know how it happened, but when I opened it to add a new boarder’s money I discovered the cash was missing.”

Mr. Barton nodded. “I see.” He reached inside his trouser pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. “You’ve passed the test.” He peeled off two one-dollar bills. “I wanted to see if you were honest, so I took the money while you were helping Simeon tonight. I have a key to the cash box with me at all times.”

Chloe didn’t know whether to leap for joy or unleash a bit of her temper. “Mr. Barton, you nearly caused my heart to fail me.”

“Good.” Not a trace of emotion creased his face.

Anger dripped through her veins. She opened her mouth to tell him what she thought of his prank but thought better of it.

“You want to say something?”

“No sir.”

He touched the brim of his hat. “Good evening, Miss Weaver. Sleep well. I think this arrangement will work out just fine.”

Shortly thereafter, Chloe crawled beneath the sheets of her very own bed. She’d slept so many nights on the hard floor or under the stars that the comforts of a mattress, even though it was threadbare, had to be just short of heaven. Praise God. Come Sunday, she’d be singing the loudest in church—and praying Mr. Barton was finished with his tests. Surely Mama would be looking down from her mansion with Jesus, happy that her daughter was going to be fine. Those boys who’d found her living by the river wouldn’t be teasing her anymore. Someday she’d leave this town and never look back. Maybe save enough money to buy a business or teach school or even own a little house. She’d grow old taking care of herself with only books as friends.

Exhausted, she hoped the days to come were filled with more hours for sleep.