Chapter Two
New Beginnings
Train arrivals brought unmarried girls to the isolated rural town on the prairie. Mail-order brides were answering ads and starting brand new lives. On this warm August day, Isaiah Grant's daughter was to marry a man she had never met. As the train slowed, smoke blocked Isabel's view of the platform.
Waiting for the train to arrive in Redwood, Minnesota, became a habit for many townspeople. Curious settlers sauntered down to see the fancy new deliveries.
The old-timers declared that the arrival of the train was a big moment for every bachelor in town. Some of the more zealous bachelors climbed up to the tops of feed sheds and watched with field glasses, to see the steam locomotive approaching.
"I see three blondes and a red-head," shouted down a lumberjack lying on a rooftop of a hay shed.
As the train drew near, potential bridegrooms looked inside and studied the prospects.
When the locomotive slowed to a halt at the depot, there was a regular stag-line of awkward men, young and old. Every one of them wondered whether his future bride might be stepping down onto the wooden platform.
On that particular late August afternoon, one of the bridegrooms-to-be was Captain Ivan Pichon, a man who went to great trouble to avoid being disappointed. Grant's daughter was due in on the train, but he was not going to meet it. No. He positioned himself on a hillside near the train depot, armed with a sturdy pair of binoculars. His sergeant stationed himself several feet behind the Captain to await orders.
At last, the train slid to a halt. Dry dust swirled around the locomotive and rail car doors swung open. The porters dropped down the wooden staircases for passengers to descend. Isabel looked out the window and watched as town folks greeted the passengers and welcomed them to Redwood.
With the help of the porter, moments later his bride-to-be stepped down. He recognized her porcelain white hair. Her hair was just like her mother. The Captain, with his binoculars, trained upon her, gave her a thorough going over from a distance. Finding no one to meet her, Isabel Grant walked up and down the platform.
"Damn it! She is nothing more than a skinny school girl. What the hell do I want with an ugly school girl." His disgust turned to anger. Within moments, he dispatched his sergeant with a note and a leather pouch with plenty of coins to send the girl back home.
Pichon felt he deserved better than her. He needed a wife to impress the Major. The rumors of the fort closing made the Captain nervous. He wanted a promotion with a pay raise and a move to a more comfortable position at his age.
Sergeant John Webster was a burly man, standing six foot four inches and had served Captain Pichon for two years. Readjusting his small, flat-topped, billed cap, the sergeant turned his bay-colored mare toward the train depot. His mind raced to process the generous pouch of coins and the strangeness of the errand.
As he rode, John cursed under his breath. He seemed to end up in awkward situations because of his captain. When he pulled up to the platform, his foot hit the wooden planks with determination to make this short and sweet.
After waiting several minutes outside, Isabel Grant walked into the lobby of the depot to ask the ticket master if there had been a message for her from Captain Pichon. She felt so nervous as she wrung her hands together.
A tall, broad-shouldered soldier rushed through the door with authority.
She caught her breath and thought to herself, "Oh there he is, just like Papa said. Oh My. He is handsome, and he is a soldier. He must be the man who wants to marry me."
Instead of introductions, the sergeant gave her the handwritten note and the leather pouch of coins. Isabel looked up in bewilderment. "I'm sorry. Uh. I um can't read."
She handed back the piece of paper and coins with growing embarrassment, John Webster looked at the letter and began to read. "Tell Grant the deal is off, and I want my money, Captain Pichon."
"No. You must be wrong. My name is Isabel Grant, and I'm supposed to meet Captain Pichon; that's what Pa said, and I'm supposed to marry him today."
Her voice faded and tears blurred her vision. As thoughts raced through her mind, she heard a soft, gentle voice speaking to her, and she looked into the soldier's deep green eyes.
Sergeant Webster saw the scared look of abandonment come over her face as she comprehended the situation. Like a porcelain doll frozen in time, her dark brown eyes filled with emotion. John felt an overwhelming need to protect her.
"I'm sorry Ma'am; I'm just following orders." He handed back the note and the pouch of coins. Locked in her gaze, John felt his heart lurch into his throat. In a wave of panic, fear gripped his chest, and his lungs searched for air. He bolted back outside and left her standing in the empty lobby of the depot.
Isabel turned and looked back at the window and watched the tall soldier walked over to his horse. His tall frame mounted the horse with ease, and he steered it with a commanding presence.
She thought, "Why couldn't he have been the officer who would marry me? He is handsome, and he seems kind. Why did he leave so suddenly? What was wrong with me?"
Isabel noticed the ticket master staring at her. Her thin, cotton, lavender dress with pale flowers looked shabby in the afternoon light. Her hat felt out of place. She clutched a satchel holding her few meager possessions.
Scratching his head, he muttered to himself, "Every woman that has come off that train has been snatched up and carted off to be married before they knew what happened. I've never seen one left standing."
She looked at the sack of coins in her hand. Isabel's eyes stared at the polished wood floors and the potbelly stove iron stove. The small lobby had two wooden benches with maps and pictures on the wall and windows everywhere.
"Eh. You want a ticket, or don't you? Either you buy a ticket for the next train, or you got to leave; you can't stay here," said the ticket master.
"When is the next train?" asked Isabel.
"Where'ya from?"
"I got on the train at Calabash."
"That train runs again in three days."
"Can I buy a ticket, then?", she asked as she clutched the leather pouch tighter into her fist.
"Sure, yeah, you betcha. I open every day from 7 a.m. until 5:00 p.m.," said the little man with the striped engineer cap.
"Where will I go until then?" asked Isabel with panic in her voice.
"Maude Renshaw runs the big hotel down on Main Street," he said and then pointed her in the direction of the hotel.
* * *
The walnut clock chimed three o'clock when Isabel pushed open the front door to the hotel. She stood in awe as her eyes absorbed the grand lobby of The Redwood Hotel. The warmth of the dining room filled her nose with the smell of baked bread and simmering beef stew.
She glanced down the long hallway and then stared at the grand, wooden staircase. The registration desk held a position of prominence next to the stairs, and a velvet sofa and matching chairs adorned the rest of the lobby.
"Well, hello there. Welcome to Redwood. Can I help you?"
From behind the desk, the most beautiful women that Isabel had ever seen stepped forward to greet her.
"I ah, um. I ah, I need a place to stay for three days," stammered Isabel.
The women looked over her half-glasses that hung around her neck with a long-jeweled chain. She discreetly took note of her clothes and said, "Well, right now I need help. We have more settlers coming every day into Redwood, and they have all decided to eat here, which is the best place in town I might add."
Then, she laughed, and her eyes glowed with warmth. "Where are my manners, child? My name is Maude Renshaw, and you are...?"
"Isabel. Isabel Grant,"
"Well, Isabel Grant, how many nights did you say you needed?"
"My train to Calabash leaves in three days," said Isabel.
"If you don't mind me asking, do you have business here in Redwood?"
"No, Ma'am, not anymore," explained Isabel quietly.
Maude raised her eyebrow at the usual answer and then asked, "Honey, how would you like a job along with a place to stay?"
Isabel looked at the beauty that surrounded her, and the thought of going back to Calabash faded in her mind. "Yes, Mrs. Renshaw, I would like that very much."
She took a long look at Isabel and said, "I tell you what Miss Isabel. How about if the first two days you work for me for free room and board with no wages. I will start you out working in the kitchen. If you decided to stay, I offer two dollars a week, paid every Saturday."
"I would like that very much," said Isabel as she smiled at Maude.
Maude handed Isabel the key to the room and then reached out her hand, and they shook on it. Then, she spun around the desk and headed down the long corridor. Isabel held onto her hat and scurried behind her as she climbed the servant's staircase. Her room was located three doors down the hallway from the top of the back staircase.
Inside the room, the meager furnishings included a bed, dresser, and a small table with a pitcher and basin. Maude also brought her a blanket and a uniform, which consisted of a brown dress and a white apron.
"Laundry is done on Saturdays, out back. Take your meals in the kitchen. Now, I have a strict rule that there will be no fraternizing with the customers and no male guests in your room. This hotel isn't a brothel. Change into the uniform, and report to the kitchen. The train brought in new brides today, and they'll be here for supper."
The unfamiliar words left Isabel confused; the last remarks stung her to the quick, and Maude noticed. After she had barked out her repeated litany of rules, Maude realized this one was very different from the rest.
Maude felt uncomfortable being so blunt with the girl. As the owner of the hotel, she had been through the routine so many times. Maude closed the door, and as she walked down the staircase, she muttered under her breath. "These girls! Come in, work for a week or two, and the next thing you know they run off and get married."
After Maude closed the door, Isabel stood in the middle of the room and stared. This place was more beautiful than anything she had ever seen. There was a real feather mattress with sheets and bedding, and it was a bed all to herself. Isabel was thrilled to have found a job and a place to stay. She vowed to work hard no matter what the job involved.
She slipped into her new uniform; she had never had a new dress. It was too big for her, but she tied the apron tight and arranged the dress. She smoothed her long ivory braids and twisted them into a coil at the back of her neck. She secured the braids with pins and looked at her reflection in the glass window.
As she touched her porcelain white, she remembered her mother's words, "Be careful. Listen to him and do as he says," warned her mother.
Then, her mother choked back tears, and Isabel watched as she scurried into the woods. Her mother always looked so tired and so scared. There had been too many children too close together. Isabel tried to help as much as possible to lighten the load. She knew her mother was not well some days in the head, and it made leaving that much harder.
Her eye caught on the pouch of coins. She knew very little about money and that many coins felt foreign in her hands. She clutched the money to her chest and looked around the room. Where could she hide it?
Hiding the pouch in her satchel was too obvious, and it was foolish to leave it in the dresser drawer. She spied the mattress on the bed. She lifted the corner and tucked the pouch of coins under the mattress.
Isabel quietly closed her door, straightened her apron front, and headed down to the kitchen to start her new job. Secretly under her breath, she was so thankful that she was not getting married to Captain Pichon, whomever he was.
Isabel reported to the kitchen and was put to work peeling potatoes for the supper crowd. The kitchen was warm and a blur of activity as people bustled around preparing the evening meal. One woman worked de-boning a plate of steaming chicken and another woman stood by the stove stirring the gravy and checking the biscuits.
A redheaded waitress was serving up the plates when she bellowed for Isabel to help carry food to the dining room. As Isabel walked behind the waitress carrying hot plates of chicken gravy and biscuits, she saw several officers in uniforms sitting at the long table eating and laughing.
"Cap't, I thought you were getting hitched," shouted a young blonde officer.
"No, I got smart. I kept a strong lookout . . . besides she wasn't my type. She didn't have what I needed," said Pichon holding his hands in front of his chest making the other men laugh.
Isabel overheard the remark and looked right at the officer. In all the commotion, another officer leaned back and laughed, which caused Isabel to drop the platter of food right onto Captain Pichon. He began to cuss and swear, and Isabel was turning redder by the moment, as she hurried to clean up the mess.
"You stupid wench. What the hell do you think you're ?"
Tears welled up in her eyes as he looked at her. Realizing who she was, he stopped in mid-sentence; he threw down his napkin and marched out of the dining room. John Webster, sitting at a corner table had witnessed the whole event.
"Sergeant," barked Captain Pichon.
Webster jumped as he heard his name called from the lobby. He grabbed his hat and headed for the door. Before Sergeant Webster could pull shut the door to the Redwood Hotel, the captain was in his face.
"I thought I told you to give her my note and the money to get back on the train," snarled Pichon under his breath.
"Sir, I did. I gave the sack of coins to her," said Sergeant Webster
"Well, you get back in there and tell that clumsy little schoolgirl to take that money and get back on the next train - you hear me."
"Yes, sir." and he lumbered back into the dining room to look for Maude.
"John, it is her first day; she didn't mean no harm," Maude implored.
"I know. That's not it. I need to talk to her. Tell her to meet me in the hallway back by the lobby," said Sergeant Webster.
Moments later, John stood in the darkened hallway listening to the clinking of dishes from the kitchen. In his mind, he was rehearsing what he needed to say to her.
He thought to himself, "I want to tell her she is beautiful, and Pichon is an asshole. I want to tell her to stay right here in Redwood. I want to tell her I will protect her from Pichon."
Isabel stepped out into the dim hallway and looked up at the tall soldier. Then she closed her eyes and looked down as she waited for him to yell at her for spilling food on the officer.
"Ma'am, uh . . . Captain Pichon . . . uh-uh -uh. . .Ma'am, uh. . . .uh. . . Capt' Pichon . . ." stammered Sergeant Webster.
If he wasn't so tongue-tied, he could spit it out. She was so small and fragile.
She looked up with those soft, brown eyes, and his heart melted. The humidity in the kitchen had made the ivory hair around her face curl softly into tendrils. His mind turned to mush, and he couldn't remember a thing. Finally, he took a deep breath.
"Well, Ma'am. umm. Captain Pichon wanted me to remind you that the money he gave you was for a return ticket home," he said without taking a breath.
"I can't go back. I mean I'm not going back," she stated with conviction, surprising herself.
"Capt'n thought you were too young. Ah, he was expecting someone older."
"You mean bigger," using her hands to indicate. "I saw him in the dining room. I heard what he said."
Leaning in toward her, he said in a whisper. "Shoot, You're better off without him. He's a mean polecat."
Isabel looked at him, blushed and covered her mouth as she giggled.
He smiled and chuckled. "Wow! Was she pretty when she smiled!" thought John as he memorized her face.
"Thank you, Mr. . . . ", said Isabel softly.
"Webster, John Webster, Ma'am."
"Grant, Isabel Grant," she said teasingly.
John's eyes twinkled as he laughed. "It was a pleasure to meetcha, Ma'am."
"Thank you, Mr. Webster. Tell Captain Pichon I will return his money. I am staying here in Redwood," said Isabel as she felt her back straighten with confidence.
"That's nice to hear. I mean I will tell the Capt'n." He tipped his hat to her and smiled like a schoolboy. John's feet barely touched the floor as he strode out of the hotel into the warm evening air.
Isabel rushed back into the kitchen and plopped down on to the stool next to the butter churn. Her heart was pounding with joy. She said. it. She had said it. She had made the decision not to go back to Calabash. She was staying where it was warm and where there were people to talk to every day.
Living with her family in the woods of Minnesota was lonely. Her mother feared strangers and outsiders. Her father was gone for months at a time working at the lumber camps. She and her brother, Ben had each other to fend off the loneliness of the woods when her mother would spend days in an old cave in the hills.
The noise of the kitchen brought her out of her daydream. The staff was cleaning the kitchen; Isabel helped finish the last of the chores. She ate a late supper of chicken and biscuits. Then, walking up the back staircase, she remembered there was a fresh clean bed with her name on it.