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Chapter Six
When Eddy awakened the next morning the unfamiliarity of her surroundings threw her for a moment, but it only took a few seconds to remember where she was. Sylvia Stewart’s boardinghouse. Her first thoughts were of Rhine, and she wondered if he was thinking of her. She chastised herself for that. She was now back in the real world where he was a wealthy White man and she was as poor as a church mouse Colored woman once again relying on the goodwill of strangers. When he returned from San Francisco he’d resume his life with his saloon and fiancée. It made no sense to dwell on anything else.
Mrs.Stewart entered the room carrying a tray. “Here’s your breakfast, MissCarmichael, and I’m apologizing in advance.”
Eddy had no idea what that meant until she pulled back the napkin covering the food. The plate held three strips of crisp black bacon, burned scrambled eggs, and on the edge, a pool of runny grits. Apparently Eddy didn’t hide her reaction well enough.
“Sorry honey, I’m a really poor cook.”
“No, this is fine. I’m grateful for the meal.”
“You lie so beautifully.”
Eddy dropped her head to hide her smile.
“My cook went back East. Until I can replace him, I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with whatever I don’t burn completely.”
“Once I get on my feet, I’ll help. I’m a cook, remember?”
“I do, and my boarders and diners are going to worship at your feet. Every time I lose a cook they swear my cooking’s going to send them to their graves.”
Eddy didn’t wish to begin eating and appear rude but she was starving, so she dug in. Although the food tasted as bad as it appeared, her hungry stomach didn’t care.
What sounded like a far off explosion filled the air. Startled, she asked, “What is that?”
“Black powder going off. It comes from the mines.”
She remembered Rhine’s explanation from the night before but had no idea there were explosions, too. “I thought I heard whistles last night. Does a train run through the city?”
“Yes, but the whistles mostly signal shift changes for the miners. It takes newcomers a little while to get used to all the noise, but in a week or so you won’t even hear it.”
Eddy still doubted that.
“So, how’s our patient?”
The question was asked by a tall, statuesque red-haired White woman standing in the doorway. She was wearing a beautiful white blouse and a fine-looking gray skirt.
“Morning, Vera,” a smiling Mrs.Stewart replied. She made the introductions. “MissEddy Carmichael. MissVera Ford.”
Eddy had had her fill of the charred breakfast and so set the tray on the nightstand. “Pleased to meet you, MissFord.”
“I’m pleased as well. How are you feeling? Oh never mind, you’ve been eating, Sylvie’s cooking.”
Sylvia drew herself up as if offended, then laughed. “Don’t start, Vera Ford. You’re not the best cook either.”
“No, I’m not, which is why I run a dress shop.”
By the fondness on their faces it was evident the two women were friends.
“In spite of Sylvie’s awful food, are you feeling better?”
“I’m still a bit weak,” Eddy replied. “But hoping it will pass soon.”
“If anyone can get you back on your feet, it’s Sylvie.”
Sylvie asked, “I’m not meaning to be rude but how in the world did you wind up out in the desert by yourself?”
Eddy told them the story.
