A Bright Tomorrow Page 11

  “Faye!” Amos cried, weeping for his friend. But Faye was dead, and the officers were yelling at the troops to move on.

  Amos got to his feet and plunged blindly up the hill. He got no more than ten feet before the world turned a brilliant, blinding red—and then it turned to black. There was time for only one thought as he fell. First Faye…and now me. Oh, God—

  San Juan Hill was taken. Santiago fell a few days later, and on July 3, the Spanish fleet tried to escape from Santiago Harbor and was annihilated by the American Navy.

  The Spanish-American War was over.

  But Amos Stuart knew nothing of all this. He was in a coma, lying on the ground for many hours before medical help arrived. Even then he did not regain consciousness. If Theodore Roosevelt himself had not ordered the doctors to do their best for the wounded man, Amos Stuart would have died in Cuba.

  He woke up on a hospital ship, his head bandaged, and with a raging fever. When the orderly saw he was awake, he called the doctor, who came to look at him. After a brief examination, he nodded. “You’ll live, Stuart. I didn’t think you would.”

  After the doctor left, Amos lay there, his mind wandering most of the time. He thought often of Faye O’Dell…and how the small trooper had gone out to meet God without being ready.

  I ought to be grateful it wasn’t me, he thought. But he found that the war and O’Dell’s death had left its mark, and as his body mended, his spirit grew hard.

  Part 2

  1899–1900

  9

  ROSE FINDS A CHARMING MAN

  From the moment Rose waved Amos off to war, she had the feeling that somehow she had made a grave mistake. For the first few weeks after he left, she went about her work at Charlie’s Place with a vague feeling of unrest. During this time she went often to see Anna. It was the closest thing to a real home in her life, for the older woman had become like a second mother to her.

  “I wish you would-a quit that saloon,” Anna said, shaking her head. “It’s no good for young-a girl to be all alone in a place like-a that!” The two women were sitting on the back steps of Anna’s house. Summer had fallen on New York like a heavy blanket, and the sun beat down on the bare yard, which had been pounded as flat as concrete by the feet of children at play.

  “Oh, it’s all right, Anna.” Rose shrugged. “It’s better than the factory.”

  “Maybe it’s not so hard, but…you be careful, Rose.”

  The brief warning stirred something in the young woman, and she gave a fleeting grimace. Her long black hair lay down her back, for she had washed it in the rainwater Anna collected in a barrel as it fell off the roof. She was prettier than ever, Anna noted. Regular food had caused her to fill out, and she was wearing one of the new dresses she had bought for herself at Eddy Sparks’s urging. It was light-blue cotton with white trim, and the color made her green eyes appear blue.

  “You mean…men?” she asked after a delay. “I know, Anna. Eddy does the best he can to keep them away. But they’re always there.” She smiled then, and reached over and patted the older woman’s shoulder. “As long as I’ve got you and Eddy to preach at me, I’ll be all right.” She got up, stretched, and sighed. “It’s almost three o’clock. I’ve got to go back to rehearsal.”

  “You come-a back tomorrow, you hear? We fix a big chocolate cake. Make you fat and pretty…like-a me!” Anna grinned.

  “All right, I will.” Rose hugged Mary Elizabeth and the other children, then left to go back downtown.

  It was a long walk, so Rose treated herself to the luxury of a cab ride. The streets were crowded, and she watched with interest as one of the new horseless carriages came chugging down the street. It was an odd-looking contraption to her, though she had seen many of the vehicles since coming to New York. The cabdriver gave the noisy affair a sour look, turned to her and said grumpily, “Them things will never amount to anything. Be glad when folks lose interest, and we can have the streets back like we’re supposed to!”

  Rose got out of the cab in front of Charlie’s Place, paid the driver, and went inside. It was a little cooler there, and she went at once to the dressing room. The rehearsal was only for her act—a new number Eddy wanted to try—so the other girls were not around. She put on the older dress she used for rehearsals, then went out to find Eddy.

  “Hello, Eddy,” she said, seeing him seated at the piano. He had been kind to her, and she had grown to trust him a great deal. But she saw at once that he was upset. “What’s the matter, Eddy? Don’t you feel good?”

  Sparks ran his fingers over the keys in a series of dissonant arpeggios, unaware that he was doing so. “I’m not sick, Rose,” he said, doing his best to smile at her. “Well, maybe I am a little…but it’s not something a pill or a doctor would be able to fix.”

  Rose was confused, for the actor had always been a cheerful sort. She asked cautiously, “Is it something about your family?”

  “No, they’re all right.” Sparks shook his head, then said glumly, “Well, you’ve got to hear about it anyway, so I might as well tell you now. Charlie told me this morning that he’s got a new company coming in to take our place. Tomorrow will be our last night here.”

  Rose felt her stomach begin to knot up, and she bit her lip nervously. “Why did he do that, Eddy?”

  “Oh, we’ve been here longer than most, Rose. People like a change.”

  “But…do you have another place for us to go?”

  “Well…not yet, but I’ll find something.” He reached over and patted her shoulder awkwardly. “Sorry about this, Rose. Don’t say anything to the other girls yet. I’ll tell them myself.”

  “All right, Eddy.”

  Rose made it through the performances without betraying her roiling emotions. But when Eddy told the girls afterwards that they would be finished after the next evening’s performance, she could see they were as unhappy as she. One of them, a small girl with blond hair named Eileen, said to Rose, “This is a bad time to be out of work. Nobody’s looking for singers and dancers now…they’ve already got plenty.”

  “Eddy will find something for us,” Rose said with more confidence than she felt.

  But after the final performance, Eddy’s face was sober as he met with them. “I haven’t been able to get a booking yet. I’ve got a line on a spot in Cleveland, but it won’t be open for three weeks.” He looked haggard and tired, but he smiled and tried to be encouraging. “Give me your addresses, all of you, and I’ll get word to you as soon as I find something.”

  Rose went to her room, fighting off the fear that rose in her at the thought of the future.

  “I’m going back home, Rose,” Lillie, her roommate, said before going to bed. “This is no life for me. Take my advice and do the same.”

  The next day Rose began looking for work, but discovered very quickly that there was none available…not for her, at least. She had no real friends in the entertainment world, and no marketable talent—at least for the legitimate stage.

  One of the men she spoke to that first day, a heavyset man with a balding dome and a kind heart, said, “Little lady, you can’t sing and you can’t dance and you can’t act—not enough for the stage, I mean.” He hesitated, not wanting to hurt her, but finally said honestly, “All you have going for you is your good looks. But this town is full of good-looking young women, and I’d hate to see you go the way most of them go. Be better if you get a job as a typewriter or a teacher.”

  But those things were beyond Rose, and she knew nothing else to do. That night when she went home, she had to struggle to control the fear that choked her and brought a trembling to her hands. She walked the floor all night, unable to sleep, trying to think of something. Finally, she fell into bed. I won’t be able to afford this room now. I’ll have to find a cheaper place.

  For a week, she searched for work as hard as any miner ever sought for gold, but found nothing. Nothing, at least, that she could bring herself to take. Several times she was approached by men who offered her
a job in their saloons or dance halls. But the glitter in their eyes frightened her.

  At the end of the week, when the rent was due, she was confused and paid up for another week without thinking. She had spent most of her income on clothing and had less than twenty dollars left. She ate little that week and exhausted her strength by going to downtown shops, looking for almost any sort of work.

  She had seen Anna only once during this time, and when Nick came by early one afternoon, saying, “Mama says to bring you home,” she was ready. Noting the slight hollow in her cheeks, he added carelessly, “She’s promised to make some of that lasagna you like so much. Come on, let’s go.”

  It was a good evening for Rose. Anna stuffed her until she couldn’t swallow another bite, and the children clamored over her. As she left with Nick, Anna hugged her. “You come-a home, Rose! We miss you!”

  Nick put her in a cab, and all the way back to her room, he chattered idly. Rose could never make out exactly what it was Nick did for a living, but whatever it was, he was prospering. His cheeks were glowing with health and he was wearing a fine suit and seemed to have plenty of money. When he walked her upstairs to her room, he took some money out of his pocket and pressed it into her hand.

  She tried to refuse and he grunted, “Aaaa, shut up and take it, Rosie! Plenty more where that came from.” He closed her fingers over the bills, kissed her cheek, and grinned. “You miss ol’ Amos, don’t you?”

  “Yes; I’m afraid for him.”

  “He’ll be okay,” Nick said quickly. “Don’t let this get you down, Rose. Something will turn up.”

  Rose lived for a week on the money Nick gave her, but it was almost gone by Saturday. Now she had no money for rent, and the thought of having to leave the room brought panic to her. Finally she came to a decision. I’ll have to go back to work at the factory.

  She rose the next morning, as depressed as she’d ever been in her life. The joyless future at the factory offered nothing but misery. Knowing she’d have to walk, she decided to have a good breakfast first.

  Going to the restaurant that offered the cheapest meal, she ordered, and when the meal came, she ate it slowly, knowing such treats would not come again soon. Afterward, she walked all the way to the factory, a distance of six miles, and got her old job back with no difficulty.

  The manager remembered her and nodded. “Sure, you did good. Come in Monday morning at six.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Berlin.” Rose left the factory, hating the thought of spending her days in the bleak building that reeked of hopelessness.

  With half a day on her hands, she decided to go back to Anna’s. She was packing her suitcase when a knock came on the door. Surprised, she opened it and found Tim Quincy, a general handyman at Charlie’s Place, standing there.

  “Letter for you, Rosie,” he said. “It’s from Eddy Sparks.”

  “Thank you, Tim.” Rose smiled, and as soon as he left, she tore open the envelope, hoping it was a job offer. Instead, it was only a brief note, scrawled in a careless hand. Rose, I haven’t found anything, but I talked to a fellow here who’ll maybe give you a job. He’s taking a show on the road and needs a good-looking gal for a small part. Don’t pay much, and you’d have to do the costumes and props. His name is James Hackett. He said he’d be at the Crescent Hotel Saturday and for you to come by. Hope it works out. Be careful with Hackett. He’s a ladies’ man.

  The note was signed “Eddy.” Rose stared at it for a long moment, then whirled and began to undress.

  It will be better than the factory, she thought. As long as I can eat and have a place to sleep, that’s all I need. She took extra pains with her appearance, putting on her best dress and fixing her hair in the most attractive style. Then she left the room and headed for the Crescent Hotel.

  James K. Hackett was a mediocre actor—a fact appreciated by most of his colleagues, but not clearly discerned by Hackett himself. He was, however, a quick study, able to master long speeches with ease, and he was one of the finest-looking men on the stage. Unfortunately, he acted every role in exactly the same fashion, overdone and highly dramatic. No matter what emotion the scene called for—gentleness, anger, fear—Hackett came on like a storm, sawing the air with his arms and eating the scenery.

  The height of his career had been his short stint on the road with Maude Adams in the role of Mercutio. Unbeknownst to him, he had not been Miss Adams’s first choice, but when forced to choose a substitute, she had thought Hackett would do if she could get him to modify his histrionics. She soon discovered that she was mistaken. It was not entirely the actor’s fault, for he was like a horse with only one gait—full speed at all times.

  Hackett had left the play in Boston, and when Miss Adams was asked who would replace him, had replied caustically, “Go out on the street and bring in the first man you see!”

  Hackett had one friend who had two splendid advantages—a great deal of money and no judgment at all in theatrical matters. His name was Gerald Partain, and he admired Hackett excessively. He had never made a dime on his own, but his father had left him so much money that he was having difficulty throwing it away fast enough to impoverish himself, so when Hackett came to him with a request for funds to put together a company and take it on the road, Partain was delighted.

  While Partain was not a critic of the theater, he was a student of beautiful women, and it may have been Hackett’s lady who brought him in as a paying partner. Partain had seen Lylah Stuart in her minor role, had been introduced to her by Hackett, and was convinced that the show—featuring the two in starring roles—would be a smash.

  After they had left Partain, Hackett had grinned. “He’s like a gold mine that never gets played out, Lylah. A good chap with no sense whatsoever…but plenty of money.” He had embraced her possessively, promising, “You’re going to be a star, sweetheart. No way we can miss!”

  Lylah was new to the theater, but already knowledgeable enough to understand that James Hackett would never be a star. He might do as a rung on her own ladder, however, and she had allowed him to kiss her before asking, “What play are you thinking of, Jim?”

  “Sherlock Holmes, I think. It’s a great role for me.”

  And you’d make a hash of it! Besides, there’s no good role for a woman in that one. Lylah had put her arm around Hackett’s neck, smiled secretively, and said, “Let’s talk about it, Jim—”

  After considerable persuasion, Hackett had agreed to do a play called The Runaway Girl, in which there was a great role for a rising young actress.

  Hackett was basically a lazy man, loving his time on the stage and the applause of the crowd, but hating the multitudinous details that go with taking a show on the road. It had been Lylah who had plunged in and pulled the show together, and it had been Lylah, not James Hackett, who got the good reviews.

  Hackett had grown jealous, and after a three-month tour, had staged a rousing fight with Lylah, accusing her of using him. Lylah had laughed in his face. “That’s just wonderful coming from you, Jim!” she said bitterly. “You’ve never done a thing in your life that cost you anything. But I won’t be using you anymore. Good-bye and bad luck!”

  Without Lylah, the show lost its luster, and Hackett had closed it almost at once. Going back to his gold mine, he’d said, “Gerald, the time is ripe for something really new on the stage—”

  Hackett easily persuaded Partain to put up the money for a new play, and this time he chose Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, which had been done in a highly successful manner by the famous Richard Mansfield two years earlier. It was more or less a one-character play, which suited Hackett exactly. It would mean a very small cast, consisting of one more man and two women. And it was for one of the women’s roles that he’d agreed to interview a young woman recommended by Eddy Sparks, an old friend of his.

  “She’s not a trained actress,” Sparks had warned Hackett, “but she needs a job bad. She’s a good looker, though…see?”

  Hackett had taken the picture Sparks
handed him and made up his mind on the spot, though he didn’t say so. “Have her come by to see me at the Crescent next Saturday, Eddy, but warn her the pay’s not much.”

  And when Hackett opened the door to his hotel room and greeted the young woman who stood there, he knew he had to have her.

  “Miss Beaumont?” he smiled, stepping back. “Come right in. Here, take this chair.” He ushered her in, seated her, then proceeded to turn on his charm, which was highly developed and seldom failed.

  “I’ve heard such fine things about you from Eddy.” He smiled warmly. “Too bad the troupe had to break up. Have you found anything yet?”

  “No, Mr. Hackett,” Rose said nervously. She had made it a rule never to be alone with a man in his room, but this time there had been no choice. Still James Hackett seemed nice enough, and as she sat there listening to him describe the play, she began to relax. Finally she said, “Mr. Hackett, I’m not an actress. I have no experience except with Eddy Sparks’s company…and all I did in that was dance a little.”

  Hackett waved his hand with an eloquent gesture. “Of course, Rose…may I call you that? Good! Well, Eddy told me, and really what I’m offering you is not a part in the play so much as a job helping with the costumes and the tickets…things like that.” Hackett knew that if he didn’t find someone to do these menial chores, he’d have to do all the work Lylah had taken on herself, and he had no intention of doing that. “The role you’ll play is very minor—not more than twenty lines in all—and it doesn’t call for any great ability. That’s why, as I think Eddy must have mentioned, the pay is not large.”

  “Oh, I don’t mind. I’ll do anything, Mr. Hackett!”

  Rose had no idea how appealing she was as she leaned forward in that pleading stance. She was aware that men found her attractive, but was one of those rare women of real beauty who did not dwell on the matter. There was not a trace of pride in her character, as she said simply, “Please give me a chance.”