Clay, slapped his hand on his bowler, and turned to flee. Clay waded through the crowd, but the man had disappeared, impossible to find.
Before he returned Sophie quickly explained to the dark-skinned brave who wore a flannel shirt with fringed deerskin pants that they shouldn’t trade their money for papers. There wasn’t a word in their language for lie. “No food vouchers. You buy food with your coins.”
“Did you give him any money?” Clay asked, coming up to them.
The man replied, but Clay only frowned. Another Indian beside him added something as well.
“No money was exchanged,” Sophie told Clay. “You chased him off before he got their money.” She pointed to the pieces of paper in their hands. “No good,” she said with a hand gesture and took the papers. “The marshal will take these.”
The Indians spoke among themselves and Sophie drew Clay away.
“How did you know what was going on?” he asked.
“I’ve seen that man out here before.” She hadn’t of course, but she knew his kind.
A woman placed her hand on Sophie’s arm. “Kathryn? Kathryn Fuller?”
Sophie recognized her immediately as someone with whom she’d had dealings in another city. Shit, shit, shit! Her pulse increased at the surprise, even as she shrugged off the woman’s touch. “I’m afraid you’ve mistaken me for someone else.”
“But I was certain. You look just like the woman. Your hair is different…and your eyes now that I look more closely. Look, Robert, isn’t she the spitting image of Mrs. Fuller?”
The tall thin man at her side peered at Sophie through gold-rimmed spectacles. Sophie heart hammered. Would he recognize her, whip a poster from his pocket, scream “aha!” and ruin her new life? She concentrated on appearing bored and inconvenienced.
“There is perhaps a vague similarity.”
Relief flooded over Sophie. Perspiration had formed under her clothing.
“Come dear, our train will be leaving shortly.”
“Excuse us now.” Clay took Sophie’s arm and led her away.
That had been another close call. Sophie was like a cat with nine lives, but the stress was wearing and those lives were quickly getting used up. When she showed up in the busy dining hall with the marshal, all attention diverted to them. Mrs. Winters quickly whisked them away from the prying eyes of customers and employees. Minutes later they stood in Harrison Webb’s office, the small wood-paneled room smelling of lemon wax.
“A night away without a pass is cause for immediate suspension, Miss Hollis.” Mrs. Winters wore her haughtiest look. “It’s inappropriate behavior for one of Mr. Harvey’s employees. Especially if you are in some sort of trouble with the law.”
“Hold your horses.” Clay stopped her cold, then turned to Harrison. “How’re you doing?”
“Not complaining,” the man replied with a nod.
“Excuse me?” Mrs. Winters stiffened. “We have an errant girl here.”
“You heard tell of the fire at the jail last night?” Clay went on.
“I did,” Harrison replied.
“What does that have to do with my employee?” Mrs. Winters asked.
Clay gave them an explanation of the previous night’s events. “Miss Hollis ran into the burnin’ building in search of lives.” His deep voice and solemn inflections made the story even more dramatic. He told of Sophie’s role in saving old Sam’s life and her consequent night at the doctor’s home.
“Thank you for looking after Miss Hollis,” Mr. Webb said. “And for coming in like this to explain.”
“Miss Hollis risked her neck. There could’ve been an injured deputy in there for all she knew. Or prisoners.”
“Er. Wasn’t there a prisoner?” the hotel manager asked. He knew all about DeWeise.
“Got away during the excitement,” Clay answered.
Mr. Webb grimaced. “Mr. Harvey won’t be happy about that.”
Clay turned his hat by the brim as he spoke. “None of us are real happy about that.”
“Heard the jailhouse is burned clear to the ground.”
“We’re settin’ up temporary quarters in a building across the street from where we were. Liveryman used the old bars to put together a couple o’ cages. They’ll do for cells while a new building is built.”
With a nod, the marshal excused himself and Mrs. Winters marched away, clearly displeased.
Sophie was left facing the manager. “I don’t know whether what you did was brave or foolish, Sophie,” he said.
“I couldn’t not do it.”
He nodded, his face a study of concern. “I must insist you keep a far less public profile from now on. None of us can afford for you to bring this much negative attention to yourself. Harvey Girls have a strict standard to uphold. Your record must be impeccable.”
“I understand, sir.”
“Are you up to performing your duties today?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Very well.” He gave her a stern look. “See that you stay in Mrs. Winters’s good graces.”
That had always been her intent, she thought, leaving his office.
The bundle Ellie had sent was still in the hallway where Sophie had left it. She carried it up the back stairs and emptied the pockets of her smelly skirt. Adding her clothing to the nearest laundry bag in the hall, she took time to include a note.
Back in her room, she dressed in a clean pressed uniform, dabbed lilac water on her wrists and throat and arranged her hair. She paused with the folded papers in her palm. She needed to destroy these posters. Hiding them wasn’t good enough.
It was easy to slip down to the overheated bustling kitchen, slide aside a stove lid, and drop the papers into the fire. Pleased with herself, she stepped back. The whole task had taken a turn down a dirt road last night, but she’d accomplished what she’d set out to do. Now no one was going to run across those drawings and connect her to her past.
She could truly breathe easy again.
After a long blistering meeting with the city and county officers and an exchange of telegrams with the county seat, Clay met with George Lent, a mason, and a carpenter named Frank Prouty to create a list of supplies. He then sent a wire to Topeka ordering brick.
Al Greene pushed a stack of telegrams across the counter toward him. “All these came this afternoon. I knew you’d be back so I didn’t send a runner.”
Clay thanked him and took the messages.
