The Dolan Girls Read online

  “A total den of iniquity?”

  She sighed. “Yes, something on that order.”

  * *

  That night, the liquor consumption was a bit low, but teasing and merriment certainly weren’t. Surrounded by all the doves––new as well as a couple of the old––the now adult Ellie easily waltzed around the parlor with Minnie and Pete to Everett’s lively piano accompaniment. The customers present were regulars and trustworthy, the food flowed even if drinks didn’t, and the noise reverberated off the walls like a John Phillips Sousa marching band.

  Off on the sidelines, Cora watched the festivities, deep in the past.

  Next to their wagon, Mattie had transformed––her upper torso straight as an arrow, her legs and feet moving up and down, her face flushed with joy as the growing crowd started to follow her lead and join in.

  “Me, too, Mam! Me, too!” called out little Cora, rushing over to her mother’s side. The Land Rush crowd gave them a wide berth as the two female Dolans synchronized their dance steps and head tosses, fixing on each other like they were the only people in the world.

  When the grandfather clock struck eleven, Cora took charge. “This is the last dance, everyone. We have a lot to do tomorrow.”

  Ellie was in mid-twirl with Pete. “That’s my mama,” she muttered.

  As they all wandered off to their rooms, and Pete to his horse outside, Minnie drew Cora aside.

  “Tread a little lighter with her, Cora,” she warned. “Just show her your heart.”

  “I think I know what to do with my own daughter,” Cora snapped, blowing out kerosene lamps and briskly plumping up pillows.

  Minnie expelled a deep breath. “Lord have mercy.”

  * *

  In the back of the house, Ellie lay in her old bed, her fresh nightgown pressed, her hair brushed, her latest Charles Dickens’ novel on the bedside table, her mind churning. Was coming back a mistake, after all?

  The next morning, she awoke to a rooster’s first crow and the sun’s slow, upwards arc. A quick stretch, and she was out of bed, splashing water on her face from a nearby porcelain bowl and putting on her new riding outfit: bloomers under a simple tunic, perfect for riding horses. As she softly padded downstairs, the household was still cloaked in deep slumber, and with her old jacket tucked under her arm, she grabbed some carrots from the kitchen and left.

  Inside the weathered barn, the hay smelled fresh, the two horses looked sound and well cared for, and both were definitely curious. When they spied the fresh carrots, they inched forward in their stalls and angled their necks out toward her.

  “Hey, hey, hey,” she murmured as she stroked each one’s soft nose. Then, feeding carrots to first one then the other one, she chuckled at the glopping noises they both made as they munched. By the time they finished, she had chosen the sorrel. Fifteen hands tall, his rich, coppery red tones served as the perfect backdrop to a snippet of white on his forehead, and when she hoisted herself up into the saddle, he sighed and exhaled a deep, fluttery breath out through his nostrils.

  Riding out of town, she noticed how much it had changed. Before she had left it had seemed so small, so dirty. Now, the town’s center played only a small, albeit significant, part in the thriving community. In true grid fashion, street after street had been established to accommodate hotels, saloons, a sheriff’s office, yet another church, a larger post office, and of course, Madam Ana’s and its three competitors. Wood-planked sidewalks and hard, mud-packed streets made walking––or, for the refined ladies, strolling––far more pleasurable than ever before.

  Reaching the town’s outskirts now took longer than it once did, and with an encouraging ‘click-click’ to the sorrel, their steady pace turned into a trot, then a light canter. The land was as open as ever, and as the horse broke into a gallop, Ellie closed her eyes, laughed, and reveled in the breeze whipping through her loose hair. No tight bun today, no binding corset, no cumbersome petticoat under a dress.

  She let the red-coated steed go full force. Soon, both rider and horse were one as they blazed through the flatlands and hills, the tumbleweeds and sparse trees, the rocks, and an occasional stream. Still, in spite of having spent many years in an eastern city, she was well aware of a horse’s limitations. She gently pulled in the reins so the sorrel wouldn’t feel the pressure of the bridle, slowed him to an amble, and patted him softly on his neck.

  “Good boy, good boy,” she cooed, as she turned him around to head back toward town and the new schoolhouse the committee had mentioned in their offer. Within minutes they had arrived.

  It certainly appeared to be brand new, the wood so fresh she could smell it fifty yards away. Once she tied her ride to a post, she stepped up to the main door and entered.

  At first glance, it looked like a teacher’s dream. Rows of clean, organized desks covered a puncheon floor, and upon further investigation, she noticed each desk contained a small journal, a pencil, and unfortunately, an obsolete primer. At one end of the large main room was a rock-stick-and-mud fireplace filled with more freshly cut wood. Empty bookshelves spread out against the back walls along with framed, embroidered signs that read, Health Is Wealth, Never Say Fail, Look Before you Leap, and A Stitch in Time Saves Nine.

  She shook her head. It definitely needed more books on those shelves and more helpful primers in the desks. But first off, she needed to remove those silly signs. Soon, her mind was spilling over with new plans and new book titles.

  Behind her a gruff, “Excuse me, ma’am,” almost knocked her off her feet.

  She spun around. Facing her was a disheveled homesteader, his slouch hat in his hands, his overalls coated with fertilized soil.

  “Don’t mean to disturb you, but are you the new schoolmarm?”

  Touched by his deference, she stretched out her hand. “Yes, I am. My name’s Ellie Dolan. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  He wiped off his right hand on the front of his jean bib before clasping hers.

  “Yessum, I know who you are, ma’am. Yes, indeedy! My name’s Paul Wentworth. Proud to know you, Miss Dolan. The missus and me, we’re lookin’ forward to you teachin’ our youngins some good book learnin’ and some manners. Matter of fact, we all are lookin’ forward to that. All them other teachers weren’t worth warm spit––pardon me––weren’t worth anything.” Embarrassed, his face turned as bright a red as any rose.

  “I’ll do my very best, Mr. Wentworth,” Ellie said, watching him nod, replace his hat, and step out.

  Half an hour later, she had hung up the horse gear in the barn and was facing an agitated Cora at the back entrance.

  “Just where have you been?” she asked.

  “Good morning to you, Mama.” She chuckled. “I went out riding, you know, to relive my childhood, so to speak.”

  “Oh. Well, you must be hungry. Come on into the kitchen. Minnie and Pete are waiting for you. What in the world are you wearing?” she added as her daughter walked by.

  Ellie paused for a brief moment, took a deep breath, adjusted her collar, and entered the kitchen with a tremendous smile. “Good morning,” she announced gaily to her aunt and Pete.

  “Darlin’, did you have a good ride?” Minnie asked.

  “Why, yes, I did. Thanks, Auntie.”

  “That’s quite an outfit,” Pete added. “Turn around so we can take a better look.”

  Minnie was intrigued. “Now, that’s what I call perfect for ridin’. I’m gonna get me one of those.”

  Cora stayed silent.

  “Mama obviously doesn’t approve of it, do you, Mama?”

  “Well, fiddle-dee-dee. It looks mighty comfortable to me,” Minnie declared.

  “Oh, Minnie, you are the best!” Ellie cried, giving her aunt a big hug.

  Turning toward the stove, Cora mumbled something unintelligible.

  “What was that, Cora?” Minnie asked, winking at Ellie.

  “That outfit she wore yesterday was so beautiful, that’s all.” She turned around and faced E
llie. “You looked so elegant.”

  “Sure she did. But she can’t very well ride a horse in it, can she?” Minnie said.

  As Ellie placed her arm around Minnie, she gave her a soft kiss on the cheek.

  Cora, setting some biscuits on the table, paused. “I was just hoping maybe you and I could go into town early this morning, Ellie. So I could show you off. That’s all. ”

  Ellie put down her fork and smiled. “Oh, Mama.”

  * *

  Later at the store, people showered the new teacher with hugs, pats, and good cheer. Compliments were abundant: “What a beautiful young woman,” “My, she turned out real well, Cora,” and “Pretty, oh so pretty!” filtered throughout the room as Cora checked on her latest order of Harper’s Bazaar and M’me. Demorest’s Magazine.

  “Yes, she certainly is,” Cora nodded proudly, so happy for her beautiful daughter. But when she passed by a mirror toward the back of the store, she caught her own reflection and paused wistfully. Who is that tired looking woman? Was it really her?

  She could see Ellie was fast developing her own patterns. Early mornings were spent galloping through the countryside followed by a big breakfast in the kitchen. Afternoons were reserved for school preparations. In very short order, her daughter’s schedule grew so regular, her enjoyment of Minnie and Pete so evident, Cora stopped worrying about her lingering in the parlor, joking with the ladies and customers like old times. It was clear her daughter was no longer a little girl.

  Indeed, on her second day back, Ellie grinned when Minnie, her former partner in crime, had commented, “You’re a grown woman now. Your mother even mentioned to me you can be in the parlor anytime you want.”

  As for Pete, he had now become a permanent fixture in the household as he belted out poems and sneaked a poke into the liquor cabinet when no one was looking.

  “Pete, can you recite an entire poem for us?” Ellie asked him one night after Cora had coordinated a packed parlor to celebrate her sister’s birthday and a general ‘Here’s How’ toast to Minnie had finished. Everyone was present––the girls, Pete, Ellie, some regulars and a few new customers tolerating the festivities as a means to a good end upstairs.

  Pete stood up, happy to play the gallery, and holding a single shot glass up toward the ceiling, he commenced with Edgar Allen Poe’s The Raven.

  He didn’t get very far.

  “Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a…many a…”

  “Quaint,” Ellie said gently.

  “Yes, of course! Many a quaint and curious…curious…”

  “Volume,” Ellie offered.

  “Volume of…” he paused. “Let me start again. Isn’t that the damndest thing, it escapes me,” he muttered, his face bloated and shiny.

  “That’s all right, Pete, really it is. You don’t have to,” Ellie said softly, stroking his arm.

  “Yes, I do. Let me do it! I’m gonna do it correctly.” His eyes started welling up.

  “Pete, can you help me with something in the office?” Cora quickly asked.

  After they left, Ellie turned to Minnie. “Is Pete not well?”

  “A lifetime of drinkin’ will do that to you.” She sighed. “Your mama has been really patient with him, Ellie.”

  “That’s good to know. Now, if she’d just be a little more patient with me.”

  Minnie put her arm around the new teacher’s shoulders. “Give her time, Ellie. Just give her time.”

  * *

  September had arrived, and within three days’ time, the start of South Benton’s school year. At Madam Ana’s, a fine cornbread breakfast with a slab of bacon filled stomachs and heartened outlooks. Ellie noted even her mother seemed peaceful. According to the general store owner, the finest French dress materials were easier than ever to order and the thought of making up the newest haute coutour fashions for Ellie practically made her hum.

  “Now, Ellie, dear, did you sew in those weights like I asked you to?” Cora asked, serving up a large portion of cornbread. Ellie rolled her eyes, as Minnie paused mid-bite.

  “What in the world are you talking about, Sis?” the older madam asked.

  “Weights, Auntie. I had to sew in weights on the bottom of my hem, in case a wind picks up and blows my skirt up,” Ellie answered, sighing.

  Turning to Cora, Minnie crossed her arms. “This is a joke, right?”

  “Of course not. Harper’s Bazaar claims real ladies should do this.”

  “Well, I don’t give a hoot about that magazine. Pardon me, I mean your bible. For God’s sake, Cora. Weights? What’s next?”

  “Now, Minnie, you must understand,” Cora said, shaking her index finger. “If Ellie is back here, she has to maintain some decorum, unlike the girls and…”

  Minnie laughed. “And me?”

  “I didn’t say that. I only meant…”

  All of a sudden, Marlena entered the kitchen, holding a piece of paper in one hand.

  “Mrs. Cora, Miss Minnie? Some feller outside gist gave this to me. Said to make sure it got to you both,” she announced.

  Cora grabbed the notice, and reading it through, handed it over to Minnie. “Oh, my God, it can’t be true!”

  “What? What?” Minnie asked, perusing the sheet herself. “My goodness.” She shook her head. “I guess your dream is coming true, Sis!” she remarked, chuckling.

  “It sure is. Imagine that. Buffalo Bill in Omaha. Who would have thought?” Cora’s eyes sparkled as her face stretched into a broad grin.

  “Glad to see you happy, Cora,” Minnie said, adding softly, “Finally.”

  She turned to her niece. “Ain’t that right, Ellie?”

  Ellie nodded vehemently. Maybe now her mother would have something else to occupy her time instead of nitpicking with her on every little detail of her life.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Taming All Devils: 1883

  “By the time I count to fifty, you know what I’m gonna do!” Ellie called out, cupping her hands over her eyes and listening to her students scatter. Ever since she had introduced this game two weeks before, even the unruliest scamps had begun to cooperate in class.

  Next came her slow ‘one-two-three-four-five count.’ Instantly, several of the older students began tugging helpless five- and six-year-olds along with them, carrying the littlest ones on their backs so they could squeeze into the best, secret spots in the school yard. Stifling their giggles, the most unlikely companions ran hand in hand. Even the meanest one of all, Joshua, Judge Endicott’s son, had scooped up a fallen girl in his path, gently promising her a good place to hide.

  “Fifty! Here I come, ready or not!” Ellie declared, beginning her search. “Now, where could they all be?” She projected her voice, much like Sarah Bernhardt emoting on stage back east. “Are they here?” She mocked-searched, stooping down next to the old, mildewed well.

  Slight giggles.

  “Are they behind the outhouse?” she asked, ignoring a hiccup followed by a collective “Sssshhh!”

  “Well, are they…” she started.

  Behind her a distinguished man in a three-piece suit and a silk cravat loudly cleared his throat.

  She looked up. “Hello, and you are?”

  “Mr. Townsend from the South Benton School Committee,” he announced, displaying all the earmarks of the northeastern haughtiness she had been so anxious to leave. “Now, what is going on here? Is this not a school for learning?”

  “Of course, it is,” she said, smoothing her skirt and attempting forbearance. “We’re just taking a little break to play Hide ‘n Seek.”

  “Might I remind you this is supposed to be only for the edification and modification of the students?”

  Edification and modification, indeed. “Of course, Mr. Townsend.”

  He straightened his cravat and turned to walk away.

  “Mr. Townsend, we really do need more books.”

  He turned around slowly. “Feel free to bring that little matter up in fr
ont of the committee.”

  “When will that be, pray tell?” Ellie asked, lifting up her chin.

  “Believe me, you’ll be hearing from them soon.” He looked her up and down, then over at the assembling students. “Very soon.”

  After he left, some students clustered around her, patting her on her shoulders and asking her when they could finish the game. Her answer was a simple sigh and a “Not now.” So back they all marched into the school, making sure they rubbed their dust-encrusted boots on the doormat Ellie had provided, and settling down at each one’s desk, began their afternoon lessons.

  That evening, as Ellie fumed about Mr. Townsend, Cora was humming. Lamps, tables, and counters were cleaned with quick, haphazard strokes, each swipe never truly meeting its mark. Finally, she stopped in front of the recent notice she had so prominently displayed in the main parlor.

  COME ONE, COME ALL!!!!

  Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show

  Coming to Omaha

  In Four weeks!

  “You can die happy now.” Minnie laughed, standing next to her.

  “Stop. I know you’re just as thrilled as I am,” Cora countered.

  Minnie nodded and winked. “Yup, it sure is exciting. They say there’s nothing like it.”

  “Nothing like what?” Ellie asked.

  “Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show,” Cora and Minnie rang out simultaneously.

  “Oh, that. That’ll be nice for you, Mama,” she said with a slight giggle.

  “What’s so funny?” Cora asked.

  “I remember seeing all those Buffalo Bill novels hidden under the bed years ago.”

  “What?” Cora crossed her arms over her chest.

  Grinning, Ellie winked at her aunt. “I guess I was a curious child.”

  Minnie chuckled. “And obviously a clever one at that.”

  Ellie nodded. “I’ll leave you two ladies with Buffalo Bill. As for me, I’m going to bed with Charles Dickens.”

  * *

  The new schoolteacher sat directly across from the school committee in one of her most staid dresses: high collared, gingham-printed, no bustle, no adornments. Opposite her in rigid formation, seven men and three women had assembled on one side of a long table, somber, watchful. Mr. Townsend was shuffling papers officiously, and one of the women had a nervous tick in her right eye.