Uncle Harrison had admonished her to say nothing to her family about her money. He’d told her this last disastrous decision made by her father was the final straw that broke the camel’s back. Uncle Harrison was determined that her father learn a lesson once and for all.
“Susanna, if he doesn’t change and start listening to wise counsel, he’ll be left with nothing. I can’t even be honest with him about the money left to him from our father’s estate.”
She could see the truth of her father needing to change but hated how it had shamed the family and caused her mother such sorrow. Of course, most everything caused her mother some form of grief. Still, losing her social status was almost more than Gladys Ragsdale could bear. It was good they had left Topeka, because her mother had declared she would never leave her bedroom again—unless they carried her out feetfirst to her grave.
“Are all the beds made?” Susanna’s father asked, disrupting her thoughts as he returned with a pen in hand.
“Yes. Everything has been dusted, the beds arranged, and towels and soap made available for the guests to use in the bathroom.”
“I don’t imagine they’re too happy about having to use an outhouse. How primitive.”
“Yes, but efficient. The only alternative is to provide chamber pots, and I certainly don’t intend to clean them,” Susanna replied.
Her father shuddered. “Nor I, and I suppose the fact that they have a room to bathe in assuages their disappointment.”
“Let’s hope so.”
By noon, the first of their reservations had arrived. He had driven a produce wagon down from Socorro, just south of Albuquerque, bringing with him a large supply of food, as well as a box full of puppies. Susanna had fussed over the sweet pups, wishing she could take one for herself, but she held back, not knowing what her future might hold. She reminded herself that she was here to help her parents get established in their new life. Nothing more. She had no idea if she would stay on once they were better able to manage for themselves, or if she would head back to Topeka. The truth was, she had no idea what she wanted out of life anymore.
She left the hotel shortly after her father got their guest checked in and took the laundry to the little house, where she knew she’d find her mother either sleeping or reading. Susanna was determined to help her mother realize her duties of cleaning and cooking but knew it wouldn’t be easy. Keeping house was the job of maids, as far as Mother was concerned. And doing sheets and towels for a hotel was something she would just as soon send off to the Mexican laundry. Unfortunately, Father said there wasn’t money for such things, and the task fell once again to Susanna.
“Mother?” she called as she entered the cool house. How wonderful that the temperatures were so much nicer inside. That had to please her mother.
“I’m in the bedroom,” her mother called in a weak voice. “I have a terrible headache.”
Susanna left the bundle of laundry at the door. “Well, we need to figure out what to fix for supper. I thought maybe you could go with me to the grocer’s store.”
“Heavens no. Not with my headache. I told your father we needed to hire a cook and housekeeper, but he has given little thought to it.”
Susanna walked over to her mother, who sat propped up in the bed. “You must face the truth of our life, Mother. You and Father cannot afford servants. You’ve lost your fortune and need to be responsible for yourselves. Cooking and cleaning won’t be that hard for just the three of you. Although if Gary gets a job with the railroad, his clothes will be most difficult to keep clean.”
Her mother fixed her with an annoyed glare. “I wasn’t born to clean and cook.”
“You might not have been born for it, but you are now in that position. Hiring someone to help would simply cost too much. You must face facts. The money is gone. The house in Potwin is gone. Your finery and social standing are gone. I don’t say this to hurt you but rather to help you face the truth. That life is gone.”
“Then my life is gone,” her mother countered. “I’m too delicate and will surely die. Either the heat or the work or this godforsaken land will kill me.”
Susanna hated hearing her mother talk in such a manner. “You haven’t even tried to fend for yourself, Mother. Come to the grocer’s with me, and we’ll find some simple things to fix for supper. I even brought a cookbook. I’m sure I can help you learn to make a few things.”
“I don’t want to learn. I wasn’t born to live like this.” Mother leaned back into the pillows, drawing her arm over her eyes.
Her patience running thin, Susanna shrugged. “Then I guess you will go on wasting money at the Harvey House until you come to the end of the salary Uncle is paying Father. It’s quite ridiculous to spend money there when a few groceries in the house would make a much better solution.”
“I cannot cook. Would you further shame me?” Mother declared, suddenly sitting up. “The women in my family didn’t have to cook for themselves.”
“The times have changed.” Susanna gave her mother a sympathetic pat on the arm. “I’m trying to help you.”
“Then hire me someone to cook and clean. That’s the only help I can abide right now.”
Susanna thought about it and nodded. She put the laundry to soak, then left the house. How in the world would her parents ever survive? Should she hire someone on? It was made clear to her on Sunday that many of the Mexican women would love to earn extra money with part-time work. Perhaps, at least temporarily, it would resolve the issue and make matters better. Maybe once Mother had that pressure taken off her shoulders, she would be willing to reevaluate the situation.
Most likely it would just make matters worse. Susanna felt confident that once a maid was hired, it would be impossible to get rid of her. Mother would cling to anything that gave her the security of her old life. So what was the answer? Susanna could hardly do it all.
She sighed and headed for the store. There would still need to be food in the house. She could provide that much for the time being. She would also need laundry soap. There was very little left at the house. Doing up the sheets and towels every day took plenty of soap, and Susanna wasn’t about to skimp on cleanliness. She’d have to ask Uncle Harrison what exactly he’d had in mind when he built the hotel without a laundry of its own, but for now, the responsibility was hers. Like everything else.
“This is officially the Rio Grande Division of the Santa Fe Railway,” Owen explained to Gary. “But most folks call it the Horny Toad Line, due to all the toads you find smashed to smithereens on the rails.”
“Boy, it sure is hot in here, just like you said,” Gary interrupted.
Owen overlooked his lack of attention for the moment. “It is, and this is morning. It will get ten times worse by late afternoon.”
“I heard all the Mexicans take a break in the afternoon. They call it see-something.”
“Siesta. They quit during the hottest hours, then come back to work after the sun begins to set. But we’re not Mexicans, and on the Santa Fe, we keep working straight through. I like to arrange easier work to be done in the afternoon, if possible.”
“Owen, is this the new man?” a tall, beefy man asked as he approached with a determined gait.