Who in Yellowstone needed their clothes pressed on a regular basis? Elk didn’t care what you wore; the geysers didn’t judge you on the number of wrinkles. Did the visitors judge her hotel against this one?
Once more, despair threatened. If she spent every last penny of profit, she could never afford electric lights. Where would she put separate rooms for the ladies and the gentlemen to lounge without losing beds? And she’d seen some of the other amenities: a Steinway piano, not one but two billiard tables, room to host a ball.
Small wonder Captain Harris hadn’t renewed her lease past the spring after seeing this palace.
She raised her head. No. This wasn’t a palace. It was a luxurious hotel, but not nearly as warm and cozy as the Geyser Gateway. She’d take Pansy’s steadfast care over the work of any other maid. Surely no employee was as enthusiastic about the wonders of the park as her Danny. And who could possibly rival Alberta for a welcome? The Geyser Gateway provided comfort and sustenance to all who visited. Her goal was to keep that trade for years to come. She would not give up.
She was in the lobby, waiting for Will, well before the appointed time. Several gentlemen, guests of the hotel, wandered past, one going so far as to ogle her through his gilt-edged monocle. She ignored them to peer instead into the dining room. Cane-backed chairs? Not as good as her wooden ones, but she would be hard-pressed to match that crystal chandelier. Then again, it probably only sparkled so brightly because of its electric bulbs.
A waiter with a long white apron bearing nary a spot on it hurried up to her. “May I seat you, madam?” he asked, as if the room wasn’t nearly empty.
“No, thank you,” Kate said. “But I’d love a peek at your menu.”
“Of course.”
He returned with a pasteboard card, which Kate scanned before handing it back with a smile.
“Ice cream, what a treat,” she noted.
His smile broadened. “We have it every day.”
Every day! Where did they get the ice, let alone churns for so much? What, was there an employee named official ice cream cranker? Well, at least they didn’t have pie. That was still Alberta’s calling card.
And the room was suspiciously empty, particularly when the clerk had indicated the hotel was full. Perhaps they had to eat in shifts.
She returned to the rotunda to find that Will had arrived. He was once more in his dress uniform, and she couldn’t help admiring how well it looked on him. That square-cut navy coat emphasized his shoulders. The gold stripe on his trousers followed the strong line of his legs. As his gaze met hers, he stopped, then bowed. “Mrs. Tremaine. A vision.”
Cheeks feeling warm, Kate bobbed a curtsey as he straightened. “You look pretty nice yourself.”
He rubbed his freshly shaven chin. “Mammoth Hot Springs has a few more amenities than our camp at the Fire Hole.”
She glanced back at the dining room entrance, where two couples in fine evening wear now stood. “So I noticed.”
“This place still can’t hold a candle to the Geyser Gateway,” he told her, offering her his arm.
At least he agreed with her. Kate put her hand on his. “Thank you. Shall we?”
He accompanied her out the door.
The night was cooling. The moon had yet to rise, and fitful clouds crossed the stars. But the lamplight from the hotel and the various buildings surrounding it lit their path up to the Norris blockhouse. The bubbling of the springs and the fall of water followed them. Steam drifted on the breeze, bringing with it the familiar scents of sulfur and pine.
“You feel that nip in the air?” she asked as they crested the rise. “It won’t be long now.”
He reached the door and held it open for her. “I’m looking forward to it.”
She laughed as she slipped past him into the building. “Let’s see how you feel come spring.”
He met her gaze. “My feelings won’t change.”
The warmth of his regard once more flushed heat into her cheeks.
“This way,” he said.
The officers’ mess at the back of the first floor was directly below the gun turret, so the windows were few, small, and high. A round table draped in gingham sat in the center of the whitewashed space, surrounded by mismatched chairs she assumed they had plundered from other buildings. A potbellied stove gave off a welcome heat.
Captain Harris and two lieutenants were standing on either side of it. The commanding officer came to greet her. “Mrs. Tremaine. You grace us with your presence.”
“Always delighted to join such fine officers,” Kate replied.
He introduced her to his staff. Lieutenant Vickers was a bright-eyed young man who tripped over his tongue in his hurry to make a good impression. Lieutenant Tutherly, Harris’s adjutant, was more in command of himself, bowing over her hand. His face was distinguished by prominent ears, a large nose, and a bristling mustache that stuck out well beyond his firm lips. His conversation was more measured, as if he hesitated to state an opinion that might contradict that of his commander. Like Will, they had shaved recently, and their hair was slicked back from their faces.
Still, it didn’t seem right they should outrank him. Will stood, confident, calm, answering questions put to him with nary a hesitation. There was no question in her mind which of the three would be more likely to come to her aid swiftly in an emergency. He was a geyser to their mud pots.
And what would he think to know she’d compared him to a geologic formation!
Captain Harris offered her his arm and led her to the table, seating her on his right with Lieutenant Tutherly on her right and Will beyond him. Vickers was between Will and the captain.
Kate had just draped her napkin across her gown when a private brought in a platter of sliced beef followed
