The Vaudeville Star

“It’s a good room, Ruby. The best one on this floor.” Bessie joined her at the window.

“I am so grateful to you, Bessie. I really am. You have been so kind to me,” she told her new friend.

“Stop all this now,” Bessie implored her. “I’m happy to help. And tomorrow you’ll meet everyone, and we’ll see what Vern says.”

Ruby nodded, and when Bessie left, she placed her suitcase on the bed and began unpacking. There was a cool breeze in the air, and she suddenly smiled. She had set out to chase her dreams, and now she was here in New York with it all just within her grasp.

Ford settled into the downstairs parlor, waiting for his family to rise for the morning. He had spent time in Boston visiting Pietro and Lily after he had given the news to Ruby about her father’s death. He and Pietro remained on good terms, and Ford had joined the Pinkerton Detective Agency after meeting him.

The plantation he would inherit from his father was well run, and he had felt idle. After the trip to Europe, he had decided to join the agency and had seen much and enjoyed the action.

“There you are, my darling. How was Boston?” Faylene Rutledge entered the parlor with her arms outstretched. “When did you arrive home? I didn’t hear a carriage.”

He was enveloped in her arms, and the strong scent of lilac, which she always wore, surrounded them.

“Last night, Momma.”

She called out to their housemaid to bring coffee just as Marshall entered.

“Hello, Father,” he said as the two shook hands.

“Ford, my boy.”

Marshall immediately lit a cigar and looked his son over. “Well, apparently that agency is doing well for you. You look fit as a fiddle.”

Ford smiled. “I enjoy the work. Though it’s not as exciting as most people think, not by a long shot.”

Faylene balanced herself on the edge of the chair while her husband paced the room. From outside the parlor, they heard someone bounding down the stairs, and soon enough Jessbelle was inside the room in a blur of pink and white.

“Ford!” She threw herself at him amid tears, and a handkerchief, which seemed to appear out of nowhere, was suddenly in her hand. “I did miss you!”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Jessbelle. Calm yourself! Ford was only in Boston, not fighting in the Spanish-American War!” her mother admonished her.

Ford kissed his sister’s hand as Marshall smiled.

“Don’t be so harsh, Faylene. Your daughter adores her brother. That’s as it should be.”

“I did miss you, Ford,” Jess said with her eyes wide.

“And I missed you, brat.” He smiled.

His decision to join the agency had not been a rash one, and he had been assigned several small cases but also several important ones. Much like Pietro, he made a name for himself as a trustworthy and conscientious detective. He followed the rules and always performed exactly as expected.

One particularly high-profile case had taken place in New York, in which he and another detective were hired to protect a priceless diamond tiara owned by the Astor family. A well-known jewel thief had his sights set on the “Astor Tiara,” and Ford had helped bring the thief to justice while also keeping the Astor family happy.

He became a known name in the influential upper classes, and his services were requested again and again. He had relocated to New York and worked with a variety of different people. The agency now had two thousand active agents with offices throughout the United States, and Ford had become an integral part of the machine.

When he returned home to visit with his family, he left behind a team of fellow detectives who viewed him as a brother and member of their esteemed group.

Ford looked around the plantation home and saw that nothing had changed. Antebellum Plantation was run by servants and paid workers who lived at the back of the property in small cabins. Many of them had been with the plantation their entire lives. Several families left when the Emancipation Proclamation was declared, but just as many had stayed.

The Rutledge family always treated their people fairly, so that as the South changed, many families remained with them. They were given fair wages for their work and treated decently. As such, their production was high and their workers not unhappy. Ozella, their cook, had been at the plantation Ford’s entire life and his mother’s ladies’ maid at least fifteen years.

Ford looked across the parlor at his family and swelled with pride. He had not gone to New York to find himself and get away from his life here. He had wanted to see something of the world, and the agency had given him that opportunity.

He watched as his mother moved a stray curl back behind Jess’s ear while his father was talking to them about their neighbors.

“What did you say, Father?” Ford asked.