A Deep Divide Read online

  Books by Kimberley Woodhouse

  SECRETS OF THE CANYON

  A Deep Divide

  Books by Tracie Peterson and Kimberley Woodhouse

  All Things Hidden

  Beyond the Silence

  THE HEART OF ALASKA

  In the Shadow of Denali

  Out of the Ashes

  Under the Midnight Sun

  THE TREASURES OF NOME

  Forever Hidden

  Endless Mercy

  Ever Constant

  © 2021 by Kimberley R. Woodhouse

  Published by Bethany House Publishers

  11400 Hampshire Avenue South

  Bloomington, Minnesota 55438

  www.bethanyhouse.com

  Bethany House Publishers is a division of

  Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan

  www.bakerpublishinggroup.com

  Ebook edition created 2021

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

  ISBN 978-1-4934-3378-0

  This is a work of historical reconstruction; the appearances of certain historical figures are therefore inevitable. All other characters, however, are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Cover design by Create Design Publish, LLC, Minneapolis, Minnesota/Jon Godfredson

  Author is represented by The Steve Laube Agency.

  Baker Publishing Group publications use paper produced from sustainable forestry practices and post-consumer waste whenever possible.

  Soli Deo Gloria

  Glory to God alone.

  Without Him, I am nothing.

  This book is lovingly dedicated to my big brother, Ray Hogan.

  My childhood memories would be so dull without you.

  From tossing me around in your football equipment in Arkansas, to tackling me across the floor vents, to stomping through the icy ditches in Michigan, to trying to kill Fred the Snowman, to hiding under the bed to scare our older sister, Mary—you were always there in the midst of the mayhem. And then you grew into the most caring, self-sacrificing, loving, teddy-bear-of-a-big-brother a girl could ever want.

  No matter how much time or space separates us, I know you are there for me. You are the best. I love you.

  Contents

  Cover

  Half Title Page

  Books by Kimberley Woodhouse

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Dear Reader

  Prologue

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  Epilogue

  Note from the Author

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Back Ads

  Back Cover

  Dear Reader

  Wanted: Young women 18 to 30 years of age, of good moral character, attractive and intelligent . . .

  This series started in my heart and mind over twelve years ago. Some stories are like that; they sit and simmer in an author’s mind until the time is right. When Bethany House contracted it, I couldn’t even begin to imagine the beauty they would bring to it. I’m so grateful for this amazing publisher and the wonderful opportunities they have given me. What a privilege to bring this series set at El Tovar to you now.

  The first time I saw the Grand Canyon with my own eyes, I couldn’t say anything other than “Wow.” Everywhere I peered into its majesty, the view was magnificent. The more pictures I took, the more viewpoints I visited, the more that one-syllable word came to my mouth. And what blew my mind even more was the fact that visiting the South Rim of the Grand Canyon and driving the thirty-plus miles back and forth to take in all the vistas still meant we saw only a small percentage of the vast canyon that is actually more than 270 miles in length.

  My dear friend and fellow author Becca Whitham went back with me to the canyon to do research for this series last spring before I started writing this story. No matter how many trips I take, I’m always amazed and in awe. On this particular trip, I FaceTimed my parents at the different viewpoints since my dad had just had surgery and they had never seen the Grand Canyon themselves. One of my favorite memories is when Becca and I were at the Watchtower. My mom said, “Don’t fall in!” It gave everyone around us a chuckle and reminded us that we never stop being parents, no matter how old our kids get.

  I owe Becca a deep well of gratitude for all her help, wonderful questions, insight, and just plain ol’ friendship. And now we’re family. This past year, her son married my daughter. Talk about fun. We are having a blast with this. To keep up with all our escapades, check out TheAuthorMoms.com.

  My research into the fascinating history of the Harvey Empire and the Harvey Girls was quite extensive. Even so, I did take a few artistic liberties when details weren’t known. To find out more about the research and historical facts behind A Deep Divide, make sure you check out the Note from the Author at the end of this book and sign up for my blog/newsletter at kimberleywoodhouse.com.

  I’m so excited to share this story with you.

  Enjoy the Journey,

  Kimberley

  James 1:2–4

  Prologue

  1891

  BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS

  The sugary-sweet cherry flavor burst on Emma Grace McMurray’s tongue and made her mouth water. Pulling the striped candy stick from her mouth, she sucked at it so she wouldn’t dribble any of the yumminess down her chin.

  “I take it you like it?” Mr. Cooper raised his eyebrows.

  “Oh yes.” She spun around in a circle. “I think cherry is my new favorite.”

  “We’ll take a few extra for a treat later.” He nodded at the man behind the counter and then looked back to her. “I have to say, Miss McMurray, that’s quite a pretty dress you’re wearing today. If I had to guess, I’d say pink is your favorite color.” Mr. Cooper leaned up against the tall oak counter at the mercantile, his smile warm and his eyes twinkling, then he winked. The man always bought her a penny stick of candy whenever he saw her. Now that he worked for her father, she got to see him more often. And she liked that. Not just because he continued to buy her candy but because he was nice.

  Eight-year-old Emma Grace glanced down at the layers of gingham and swished the skirt back and forth. “Thank you. It is my favorite color.”

  “Well, it’s perfect for you.” He tapped the end of her nose. “Did you pick out a present for your friend’s birthday party?”

  She nodded, and a little thrill of excitement ran through her. Most of the time, Papa never allowed her to go to parties, but this was for her best friend in the whole world. And Papa liked Mary’s father, so he’d said yes.

  “Ah, I see it. It’s on the counter. Looks like a very nice choice.” Mr. Cooper straightened and looked at the clerk. “Wrap this for a party. With ribbon.” He tapped his chin and put on a puzzled face as he looked at her. “Pink?”

  “Oh yes.” She giggled.

  “Please put this on the McMurray account as well.”


  “Of course, sir.” The skinny man in the apron must be new because Emma Grace didn’t recognize him. His mustache had big loops in the ends of it. She’d never seen one like that. It was funny-looking, but she couldn’t say that out loud. That wouldn’t be very good manners. He wrapped the fancy china doll with a pink dress and matching bonnet in tissue paper and then gently placed it in a large box. Then he tied it with a wide pink ribbon before offering it back.

  Mr. Cooper tucked the package under his arm and held out his hand to her. “Are you about ready to head to the party?”

  “Yes, please.” She took his hand and swung their arms back and forth as they walked to the carriage. “Thank you for the candy.”

  “You’re welcome. It’s not every day that I get the privilege of accompanying such a pretty young lady about town.”

  His words made the laughter she’d been holding back bubble up to the surface. “You’re silly, Mr. Cooper. It is every day that you drive me.”

  “Really? Are you certain?” He scrunched up his forehead like he was thinking quite hard.

  It made her giggle even more, and she covered her mouth.

  He winked again. “You are correct, of course. But what fun that I get to do this every day.”

  “May I sit up front with you again?”

  “Most certainly.”

  She climbed up into the open two-seat carriage.

  “You’re a lot more fun than Nanny Louise.” She made a face. Nanny Louise never left the house. She’d never take Emma Grace to the park or to parties. Since Papa hired Mr. Cooper, he’d assigned the nice man to drive her around. He and Mother were so busy all the time.

  She liked Mr. Cooper. He was fun. And he gave her candy. As she leaned back in the seat, she let out a long sigh that turned into a yawn. Last night she couldn’t sleep a wink since she was so excited for Mary’s party.

  “What’s this? Are you tired already?” He climbed up and took the seat next to her, then took the reins.

  “Just a little.” She couldn’t tell a grown-up why she didn’t sleep. He’d think it was silly.

  He pulled a blanket out from under the leather seat. “Here, why don’t you lay your head down for the ride? That way you’ll be nice and refreshed when we get there.”

  With a nod, she pulled her legs onto the seat and curled up. She wasn’t little anymore and didn’t need afternoon naps like Nanny Louise insisted upon, but she was oh-so-tired. Maybe if she just closed her eyes for a few minutes.

  A smelly hand clamped over Emma Grace’s mouth and woke her up. What was happening? Her breaths came faster and faster as a big scratchy arm picked her up off the carriage seat. No! She wriggled and kicked, screaming against the fleshy palm, but she couldn’t force out a sound loud enough to do any good. The world tilted as she was tossed about until all she could see were the branches of an oak tree waving against the blue sky, a frayed rope hanging all alone from a branch. She didn’t recognize the tree. Where was Mr. Cooper?

  Kicking and squirming for all she was worth, she tried to move her mouth enough to be able to bite her attacker, but it was no use.

  “Stop it.” His chest rumbled. Tighter and tighter he squeezed. Fear clawed at her throat. She couldn’t breathe!

  The blue sky above dimmed as they came under the shade of another tree, and she gasped for air. What would happen if she couldn’t get enough air? Would she die? The grip on her released a bit just as spots danced before her eyes. She felt her arms and legs go limp. No! She needed to fight. But the darkness was winning, and she couldn’t move.

  He put her over his shoulder. With every step he took, her head pounded. Lifting it, she forced her eyes to focus. Darkness remained at the edges of her vision as pain stabbed her eyes. She took a long breath. Anything to clear her head. Tried to squeak out something, but she couldn’t. What was wrong?

  The scent of horses and leather made her want to wiggle to see what was going on, but the pressure built in her head and made her dizzy. Her arms and legs felt like they weighed more than her father’s prized stallion. Hanging upside down had never been something she liked. Not like their butler’s son, who would drape his knees over the ladder in the barn and swing back and forth for what seemed like hours. For a moment she was transported home . . . in the barn. She could see him. They were hanging upside down together. Swinging, laughing. Maybe she was dreaming.

  Wake up. Wake up!

  But then the man stopped for a second and as the motion stopped, her vision cleared.

  It wasn’t a bad dream. She wasn’t in the barn. This was real. She took another large breath and put all her effort into screaming. “Help!”

  He shifted her to the ground, and his hand tightened over her mouth. Hot breath hit her face. “Don’t make another sound and don’t fight me anymore.”

  The smell of tobacco assaulted her nose, and her stomach turned. It was bad enough she’d been hanging upside down over his shoulder and her head didn’t like the sudden shifts. Now the smell. Ew.

  “Did you hear me?” The voice was low and sounded full of grit. She couldn’t get away from his breath.

  She moved her chin up and down and tried to turn her head as far away from him as possible.

  “Now, I’m not aiming to hurt you . . . unless you don’t cooperate. In fact, I’m going to treat you like a princess. So, there’s no need to panic. You’ll be home with your family before you know it. Got it?”

  Emma Grace nodded. But his breath kept washing over her.

  “What’s wrong?” The man narrowed his eyes and got closer, making it impossible to not breathe in the scent.

  She shook her head and closed her eyes. Maybe if she didn’t think about it. Or if she held her breath. If he would just move away. She didn’t want to make him even madder. But her stomach turned.

  When she was only four, she’d tripped over a spittoon in the railroad office and spilled it all over her shoes and stockings. The smell had made her lose her lunch in the middle of the floor. She’d forgotten that rotten stench until now.

  “Don’t go gettin’ sick on me. I said I wasn’t gonna hurt ya.”

  But it was no use. As her stomach revolted and she started to heave, the man eased up his hold and moved his hand from her mouth . . . just in time.

  After several moments of her losing her breakfast, the man patted her back. “You done?”

  She slumped, hoping to get out of his grip, but his hands held fast to the bow and sash on the back of her dress. The one that had been her favorite.

  Wiping her mouth on her crinoline, she straightened. He said he’d treat her well if she cooperated. Mother always told her God made her stubborn for a reason. Stubbornness could be negative, she’d said, but it could also be good. Like tenacious and determined. Emma Grace liked those words. Maybe she could be stubborn and get through this.

  She refused to admit defeat. “I’m quite finished. Just keep your foul tobacco breath away from my face, and maybe I won’t have to empty my stomach again, mister.” She cringed. Another trait—she often spoke without thinking about the consequences.

  A loud guffaw eased her worries. The man leaned back and slapped his knee. “You’re quite the character. Your vocabulary isn’t too shabby either for such a young’un.”

  She dared to look at him directly. He might smell bad, but he was dressed like a businessman. Like one of Papa’s railroad partners. She tucked the little nuggets about his appearance into the back of her mind and looked away. Wouldn’t do her any good to be caught staring at him. Not that he even seemed to be worried.

  She glanced around. There wasn’t a house, person, or horse in sight. Where were they? Putting her hands on her hips, she frowned up at him.

  “Like I said, I’m gonna treat you like a princess, but if you don’t behave yourself, you’re gonna have trouble.” His voice was gruff, but his face had softened.

  Even though she knew she should be really scared, she kicked at him with her right foot.

  He didn’t eve
n flinch. “Now, Emma Grace. What did I just tell you?”

  The way he said her name made her shiver. Wait. What did he just say? “How do you know my name?”

  With one swift move, he tucked one arm under her knees, while the other hand went back around her mouth. “That’s enough talkin’ for now.” Lifting her up against his chest, as if she was sitting in a chair against him, he started to whistle and walked up the hill in front of them.

  Where was he taking her? Who was he? And where did Mr. Cooper go? This man had grabbed her out of the carriage. Did he hurt Mr. Cooper?

  The more her mind swirled through everything that had happened, the more questions she had. And the more scared she became. Closing her eyes, she counted to one hundred. Maybe it really was a bad dream and she just had to relax so she could wake up. Turning her mind back to the barn at home, she pictured Jimmy swinging like a circus artist from the ladder. She was dreaming. That was all. Wake up. Wake. Up!

  But the smell of her own vomit made it all too real. When she opened her eyes, they were almost to the door of a little white house.

  The man opened the door and set her down, grabbing onto the back of her dress again. “Now, don’t do anything stupid. There’s no one for miles. No one can hear you, and there’s nowhere to run.” He pushed her forward and down a hallway. The door at the end was open. “In you go.”

  Taking slow steps, she made it to the doorway and looked around the room. A small bed with a pink coverlet. A little table with a tea set. A bookshelf lined with books, dolls, and toys. It wasn’t a scary dungeon. But what was it?

  He let go of her and blocked the door behind them. “I’ll be right back with some food.” He left the room, closed the door, and then there was a loud click.

  As she looked down at her dress, she started to cry. It was covered in the remnants of her breakfast. And the stench of that awful man. The dress that once made her smile made her sick to her stomach. She hated it. She hated pink. She hated this room. This place. That awful man. And tobacco. She hated that too. She stomped her feet and marched around the room, her sorrow turning into anger. Why would he kidnap a little girl?