The White Hunter Page 9

  Finally something came to her very gently at first, but as she thought on it, a certainty came into her heart, and she knew God was speaking to her. In her spirit came an impression that might have been phrased, You are going to serve me in Africa. You have been faithful to wait, and I will now do something in your life. You will go to Africa, but I will take you in a way that you will find strange. When I open the door, you will know it. Be certain that you walk through it.

  And then it was over. She continued to stroke Rosie’s fur, but she knew that God had spoken, and she whispered aloud, “Thank you, Lord. You open the door, and I’ll go through it!”

  CHAPTER SIX

  A Strange Employer

  April came, bringing spring showers and an end to the cold winds and ice storms that had frozen New York during the winter. Annie was glad to put aside her winter clothes and be able to walk in the park without wading through snow or slush. The days passed slowly and she filled her time with work at the mission board without pay, where she had learned more about foreign missions than most people know. She also helped the pastor of the local church, throwing herself into any task that required her assistance. She grew stronger, she could tell, and was fervently grateful that none of the breathless asthma attacks had stricken her again. Now as spring came and she began to get out more into the sunlight, color began to bloom in her cheeks, and she looked forward to moving on with God’s plan—but what was God’s plan? This seemed to be a difficulty she could not solve. Night after night she would kneel beside her bed and plead with God to reveal His will. All that came to her during those days was a repeat of the word she had gotten weeks before. I will take you to Africa, but it will be by a way you will not expect. Do not trust in man, but trust in me.

  One problem she faced was that her money was running out, and she had determined not to be a burden on her parents. Although Laurie and Cody both sent her cash, her small bank account was not growing. It was still in the back of her mind that somehow she would raise enough money to finance the trip to Africa herself, and she had become familiar enough with the accounts while working for the mission board to know that it would take several thousand dollars, which she did not have.

  On the last day of April, she went to the typing instructor from whom she had been taking lessons for the past two months. Mrs. Lakely was a thin middle-aged woman whose fingers flew over the keys like magic, so it seemed to Annie. She had a sharp tongue and was a critic who dealt out more criticism than praise, but still she had been polite enough. Entering the building, Annie found Mrs. Lakely in her office going over papers and said, “I’m sorry to trouble you, Mrs. Lakely, but I need to ask you something.”

  “What is it, Miss Rogers?” The voice was sharp and terse, but this was common enough for the teacher. “Oh, by the way. Your last speed test—it was very good.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Lakely,” Annie replied. She was not asked to sit down, so she continued quickly, “Mrs. Lakely, I’m running a little short of money. I wonder if you know anyone who needs secretarial help. I’ve been studying shorthand as well as typing. I’m not an expert yet, but I’m improving.”

  Mrs. Lakely leaned back in her chair and stared at Annie. She tapped her teeth with her forefinger, then said, “It’s strange that just now you should come to me with this.”

  “Why is it strange, Mrs. Lakely?”

  “Because about two hours ago I received a request for secretarial help. I have several ladies I’d thought of recommending. Since you’re the first, perhaps you’d like to go for an interview?”

  “Oh yes!” Annie said eagerly. “I’ll work very hard.”

  Mrs. Lakely had spoken with Annie about her personal life only once—or, rather, Annie had spoken to her, inviting her to church. In the conversation Annie had revealed her intent to go to Africa as a missionary. Now Mrs. Lakely sat up straight and grasped the arms of her chair, saying, “You may not like this. I’m not personally acquainted with the prospective employer, but I know something about her.”

  “Oh, it’s a lady?”

  “Well, it’s a young woman. Relatively young, that is. Her name is Miss Jeanine Quintana.”

  “She sounds Spanish.”

  “She had a Spanish father and an English mother. You’ve never read about her in the papers?”

  “No, ma’am. What does she do?”

  An unexpected smile broke the rather frigid features of Mrs. Lakely. “Mostly she gets into trouble,” she chuckled almost harshly. “So far she’s stayed out of jail, but it wouldn’t surprise me greatly to see her land there someday.”

  Annie could only stare at her instructor with astonishment. “Stay out of jail? Why, I wouldn’t want to work for a criminal.”

  “Oh, she’s not a criminal, Miss Rogers. I wouldn’t send you to anyone like that. The fact is, she’s a very wealthy woman. Her parents were killed in an Atlantic crossing about five years ago. Since then Miss Quintana has gone her own way.” Leaning forward, her dark eyes intent, Mrs. Lakely expressed her disapproval strongly. “She’s got enough money to be in Mrs. Astor’s group, but she’s a little bit strong for the taste of the Four Hundred. I don’t think they exactly mesh very well.”

  “What sort of employment does she have in mind? Does she run a business?”

  “She has several businesses, so I understand, but I’m not sure she’s active in any of them. However, Doctor Taylor, who runs the school, said that she called, and he asked me to recommend someone. I’m not sure what the work would be. He said she needed a companion—secretary. Whatever that is. There would be travel involved.”

  Annie was highly uncertain of what answer she could return to Mrs. Lakely.

  Seeing this, the older woman nodded and said, “Why don’t you think it over? As I say, I don’t believe you two would get along—any more than she got along with the Astors. She’s a very worldly woman and you obviously are not. She’s spoiled by her wealth and she’s very attractive. I expect she’s as hard to get along with as most wealthy people are.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Lakely. When would you need to have an answer?”

  “I think the matter was urgent. You’ll have to let me know by tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be in first thing in the morning to give you my answer one way or another—and thank you, Mrs. Lakely.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Annie left the building with her mind confused and headed for home at once. She said very little at supper that night and went to bed early, which puzzled Mrs. Simmons, but the landlady asked no questions, and when one of the boarders remarked that Annie might be sick, Mrs. Simmons retorted with, “Mind your own business!”

  Annie could not fall asleep, so she read the Scriptures, looking for an answer there, but found none. She prayed until her eyes grew gritty, and finally she reached out and embraced Rosie. “I don’t know what to do, Rosie.” She hugged the feline hard and Rosie reached out one paw, claws sheathed, and put it on her lips.

  Annie laughed. “You want me to hush. All right. I will.” She got flat on her back, and Rosie got on her chest and stared down into her face. The large, golden eyes of the cat seemed to be studying her intently and Annie stared back silently. Finally she went to sleep, and when she awoke the next morning to Rosie’s clawing at the door to get out, Annie suddenly sat up, knowing what she had to do. “I don’t know if it’s from you, God, but I believe this might be that door you talked about. I’ll go see Miss Jeanine Quintana, and if you don’t want me to work for her, I ask you, Lord, to slam the door right in my face. Come on, Rosie—out you go.”

  ****

  “Fifth Avenue? Well, that’s getting down where the rich people live.” Pete Frazier handed Annie up into his carriage and moved around to hop up beside her.

  “This is the address, Pete.”

  Frazier looked at the address, then spoke to the horse, which stepped forward at once. “Lots of new mansions in this part of the city, Miss Annie,” he said. As they moved along Fifth Avenue, he rem
arked, “This was just a dirt road not too awful long ago—back when my grandpa lived here. It got started when a Dutch family decided to build a mansion. They called it Brevoort. Then they started building hotels, and then churches, and all the rich folks took a liking to it. They all wanted the name Fifth Avenue on their address.”

  As they passed by, he named some of the families. “That’s where the Vanderbilts live. They spent 15 million dollars on four mansions along here. See that one? That’s Madam Restell’s place.” He gave her a strange look. “And a bad place it is. She takes care of girls that have gotten into trouble.”

  “Oh, you mean an abortionist?”

  “That’s what they say. No proof of it, of course. She keeps the police paid off pretty well, I guess.”

  Twenty minutes later Frazier pulled up in front of an imposing mansion built of dark red-brick and marble. It rose high and was set back farther from the street than most residences. “This is the address. Do you want me to wait?” he asked as he helped her down.

  “I think you’d better. I won’t be long.”

  “Right here I’ll be.”

  Walking up the three steps to the entrance of the house, Annie reached up and grasped the huge, shining brass knocker and rapped it sharply three times. She had to wait for a while, but finally the door swung open softly. A sharp-faced woman dressed in black stared at Annie, then demanded acidly, “Yes, what is it?”

  “My name is Miss Rogers. I’ve come to see Miss Quintana.”

  “What about?”

  “About a position. The business school sent me here.”

  For a moment Annie stood there and saw the dislike in the older woman’s eyes. “Come in,” she said sharply and stepped back while Annie stepped through the door. Closing it, she said, “Wait here.”

  Annie stood in the enormous foyer, almost shocked by the ornate and imposing room. The foyer was large, about twelve by twelve, with light streaming in from the leaded-glass panels on either side of the front door with its embossed door pins, hinges, and doorknobs. The floor was covered with a cool gray marble with rugs and runners of deep reds and greens placed down the long hallway. The floor-length windows by the door were covered with a filmy white material flowing down onto the floor. The walls had a deep red satiny wall treatment on the top portion with mahogany wainscoating on the bottom half, and a large fireplace graced one wall, with a large mantel on which sat silver tins of all sizes. A dark wood hall tree with massive branches decorated the wall to the right of the front door, and a towering hall mirror on a marble-topped base graced the wall to the left. Sculptures, family portraits, and etchings were staring out on hanging shelves tucked backed in niches, and three straight-backed chairs and a large cushioned settee were positioned beside a Louis XV occasional table.

  “Come this way.” Annie’s reverie was broken as the tall woman suddenly appeared at the foot of the stairs. She did not wait but turned, and Annie followed her up the winding staircase. When they reached the next floor, the woman angled to her left and went to a massive door. She opened it, saying, “Miss Quintana wants to see you at once. Go in.”

  “Thank you,” Annie murmured. She stepped inside and once again was struck forcibly by the room itself. She took one quick look at the woman who was in the bed, sitting up and reading some sort of paper. The room itself was at least as imposing as the foyer. It certainly reflected great wealth.

  “Come over here!”

  The woman’s voice was pleasant enough, but demanding. Annie moved across the room uncomfortably, for she had expected the woman to be dressed and behind a desk. Instead of that, a small tea table straddled the woman’s body, and she poured herself a cup of tea and then looked at Annie over it.

  “You came about the job, I suppose.”

  “Yes, Miss Quintana. My name’s Annie Rogers.”

  “What experience have you had?”

  As Annie haltingly answered the woman’s probing questions, she studied her prospective employer. She could not be certain about her height, but she seemed very tall. She had hair as black as anything in nature and strange violet-colored eyes. Her skin was olive and her face was squarish with high cheekbones. The lavender gown she wore was very low-cut and obviously made of pure silk. It shimmered in the light from the lamps beside the bed. Her face was determined and her upper lip was thin, though the lower one was full and sensuous.

  After listening to Annie, Jeanine Quintana laughed. “So you’re going to be a missionary. Well, that might be interesting. Sit down. Would you care for some tea?”

  “Why, yes, if it’s not too much trouble.”

  “It won’t be any trouble for me, but you’ll have to help yourself. There it is over there on that table.”

  Annie moved over and poured herself a cup of tea, added a little cream, then came back and sat down again.

  “How old did you say you were?”

  “I’m twenty.”

  “And you have no business experience?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  Miss Quintana waited for an explanation. Seeing that none was coming, she tsk-tsked and sipped her tea. “Well, at least you don’t try to make up things to impress me. I like that. Can you take shorthand?”

  “I’ve had a course. I’m not as fast as I will be later on, but my instructor said I’m doing very well.”

  “And you’ve had a course in typewriting?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Why do you want to work?”

  “To save money to go to Africa.”

  “How much does that cost?”

  “Several thousand dollars to stay for four years as I’d like to do.”

  Once again the bold violet eyes swept over the young woman. Jeanine Quintana seemed older even than her twenty-seven years. There was a worldly knowledge in her eyes that had been put there by experience. Ordinarily she would have sent the young woman off without an adieu, but something about Annie Rogers interested her.

  “I can’t imagine hiring you.”

  “Why not, Miss Quintana?”

  “Because you are a preacher of some sort, and I am not a godly woman. The first time I drank a cocktail it would probably shock you to death.”

  “No, ma’am, it would not.”

  The reply that was rapped out rather sharply amused Jeanine Quintana. “Oh, it wouldn’t? You approve of drinking, then?”

  “No, ma’am, I do not. But I assume you wouldn’t be hiring me to correct your morals.”

  This reply brought a smile and then a slight laugh from the woman in bed. “You have an edge about you for all that innocent appearance. Though you look like a nun, you’re a rather worldly girl. Never been married?”

  “No.”

  “Have you been with a man?”

  This blunt question shook Annie. But she lifted her head, and though her cheeks had a rosy tinge, she said, “No.”

  “Ah, that touched you, I see. Well, you’ll hear worse than that out of me if I hire you. What’s that mark on your neck?”

  “Just . . . just a birthmark.”

  “You’re sensitive about it. Why don’t you have it taken off?”

  “I never thought about it, Miss Quintana.”

  “I see. Well, I need someone at once, and it will involve some travel. Do you have anyone who would object?”

  “Object, Miss Quintana?”

  “Yes—object to travel. Or that you would travel with me, to put it more bluntly. My reputation is somewhat tainted, I fear. I don’t want a father coming after me with a shotgun because I’ve corrupted his daughter.”

  “My father and mother live in Wyoming along with my brother. They trust my judgment and they trust me, Miss Quintana.”

  Once again the reply and the manner seemed to please Jeanine Quintana. “All right. When can you start?”

  The abruptness of the question again startled Annie. “You mean I’m hired?”

  “Yes . . . yes, you’re hired! When can you start?”

  For a moment Annie
considered asking about salary, but her mind was working busily. Somehow she had the oddest impression that this was the door God had promised to open, and the thought flashed into her mind, What could be further from going to Africa as a missionary than going to work for this worldly woman? Still the impression came more strongly than ever that this was what God wanted her to do. For one brief instant she forgot about her prospective employer and sought God. She looked down at the carpet and prayed, Oh, God, stop me if this isn’t right.

  Across from the young woman Jeanine Quintana studied her. She knew the young woman was praying, and this both irritated her and intrigued her. She had not been to a church for years, not since she was a child. She had put God firmly out of her life and was quite content with how well she had managed. Now the sight of the young woman dressed in very inexpensive clothing sitting beside her bed, obviously praying for direction, stabbed at her in a most peculiar way. What am I thinking? she thought. This could be the biggest mistake I ever made. Well, if she takes the job, I’ll make it rough on her quick so that neither of us will have any long-term regrets.

  Finally Annie raised her head and smiled. “Yes. I can start today. Right now if you’d like.”

  “Good! About pay, I’ll pay you half again as much as I’m paying Miss Debrough.”

  She named a figure that sounded extremely high to Annie, who readily agreed, saying, “That’s very generous, Miss Quintana.”