The Dolan Girls Read online

  Mr. Townsend looked up at the teacher facing them. “Miss Dolan, I have seen firsthand your little play methods, and I must say I was not impressed. We offered you this position based on your school’s reputation and your glowing recommendations. What do you have to say for yourself, young lady?”

  Her back turned ramrod straight. “With all due respect, Mr. Townsend, you did indeed see my ‘play’ methods, but that was all it was. Perhaps if you had stayed longer, you would have witnessed my learning methods as well.”

  Murmurs rippled down the table.

  “Besides,” she continued, “due to the inauspicious parade of overly strict, incompetent teachers your committee had previously employed, I decided to win over these students’ trust with a few harmless games.”

  “Do you dare to,” sputtered a man behind the plaque labeled Judge Endicott.

  “Mr. Townsend,” she interrupted, ignoring the judge, “when you were at the school, I believe you asked me to bring up the matter of new books. Perhaps having better resources would enhance my learning methods.”

  Silence.

  “Yes, books,” he mumbled, as she pulled out a folded piece of paper.

  “Here is my invoiced list for necessary books for the classroom. I’ll read it to you now:

  Stories of Greece and Rome

  Illustrated Bibles

  Arabian Nights

  Goethe’s poems

  The Life of Thomas Franklin

  Shakespeare

  Spenser, Coleridge, Burns, and Shelley

  The Encyclopedia of Britannica

  “And by the way, I took the liberty of ordering them a few weeks ago. According to the telegram I just received, they are due tomorrow on the noon mail coach,” she added, handing the list over to them.

  Mr. Townsend cleared his throat. “Impressive list, I must say, but…”

  “On whose orders?” Judge Endicott’s mouth smacked closed like a snapping turtle.

  “My own, sir. I happen to know what’s needed.”

  “This is not acceptable, Miss Dolan,” inserted a rather plump woman in a broad-brimmed, black-feathered hat sitting next to the judge. “You should have requested these books in writing.”

  “Indeed. Thank you very kindly. I’ll certainly know that for the next time around,” Ellie answered, rising. “Please do forgive me, ladies and gentlemen, I need to go home now to help with supper.”

  Judge Endicott stood up. “Miss Dolan, before you go, hear me out. It appears I shall be attending school tomorrow with my son, Joshua. Make no mistake about this visit. If indeed, I find your techniques as bad as our colleague here claims, I shall send you back to New York myself. ”

  “And I’ll be accompanying you, my dear,” agreed the black-hatted Mrs. Endicott. “After all, we did all take a chance on the daughter of a…”

  “Yes, enough said,” the judge muttered to his wife, with a wave of his hand. He then turned to face the committee and Ellie. “You may expect a full report of Mrs. Endicott’s and my visit tomorrow,” he ended, as he gathered up his papers and stormed out, his wife trying hard to keep up with him.

  * *

  The next day, after pushing their son Joshua toward the school grounds, the couple stayed out of sight behind a large bush to observe. The school bell was clanging, parents were busy giving directives to their children for the day, and Ellie was greeting each student with a smile and an encouraging word. Girls in pinafores and boys sporting knickers, knee-high socks, and black boots all bobbed their heads enthusiastically, as they proceeded to file up the wooden steps and enter the front door.

  Both Endicotts continued watching as their irascible boy, the one various servants had left over, took off his hat, nodded to Ellie, wiped his hands on his knickers, rubbed his boots on a large mat, and guided two of the younger children inside.

  Mrs. Endicott turned to the judge. “Well, I never…”

  “Hmm,” he said. “Let’s wait another five minutes before entering. Catch her in her act, so to speak.”

  “Yes, dear. Good idea.” She adjusted her new bonnet and fingered her top two buttons. That morning she had chosen her most dignified outfit for the occasion, aiming for respect and indeed, some intimidation. After all, this girl, this upstart, the daughter of a whorehouse madam, for goodness sake, had not been her first choice by any stretch of the imagination. But after reading the girl’s high-end school’s many glowing letters of recommendations, her husband had been sold.

  Judge Endicott entered first. Then, at a respectable distance, Mrs. Endicott followed him in, more than expecting the worst. Just inside the doorway, they stood together, stock still, surveying the room. The walls exploded with ABC charts, grammar rules, famous quotations, and student papers. The students themselves were concentrating on their journals, all except Joshua, who stood at the front of the room, assisting Ellie, his face calm, peaceful, purposeful.

  Ellie glanced over at the visitors and without speaking, nodded, then pointed to several empty chairs at the back of the room. No announcement of their presence, no recognition of their societal stature.

  “Now, class, who remembers what we discussed yesterday?”

  Hands shot up.

  “Joshua?” she asked.

  “Yes, we talked about different continents and the oceans separating them.”

  “Very good, Joshua. Now, who can remember some of the oceans mentioned?”

  Students clamored for Miss Dolan to choose them.

  She smiled calmly, reminded them that shouting out didn’t always get good results, and called on one timid little girl on the far end of the back row. The child’s face was dirtier than most, and her hair, obviously not brushed that morning, contained flecks of dried leaves in it, but when she gave her soft answer, Ellie clapped her hands and praised her as if she had just solved the most difficult mathematical problem imaginable. The girl sat up a little taller and beamed.

  Next, Ellie brought their attention to the chalkboard where she had written assignments in ascending grade level order. In her hand, was a small pewter bell, and as she jingled it, the students instantly took their cue. They opened up their desks, pulled out their pencils and leafing through their new journals, began their school work, as Ellie circulated around the room, scrutinizing each student’s writing, quickly correcting it, and ending each conference with a gentle pat on the shoulder.

  Joshua suddenly stood up. To his parents’ amazement, he made his way over to his teacher, and asked as clear as a bell, “May I be your teacher’s aide again this week? I surely would enjoy that.”

  She gave him a fast nod, and without further ado, he strode over to the younger grade levels. There, he bent down next to each young student, his voice patient, giving. Apparently, his efforts were not wasted. After he finished helping each young boy or girl, he or she would gaze up at him with nothing less than total adoration.

  The Endicotts stared at each other in stunned silence.

  * *

  That night, Madam Ana’s parlor was packed and buzzing. Cowboys coveted their whiskey shot glasses as if they were precious jewels, regulars in their bowlers and vests were slapping each other on the back, and the doves intermingled throughout, stroking arms, and sidling up against any man deemed a potential customer. In the middle of the soirée sat a couple of strangers talking loudly, and as their volume increased, the entire room soon stilled, everyone giving these men their rapt attention.

  Hailed from the Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show, they described a few of the acts that would be offered and how this high-toned spectacle was sure to fetch audiences the likes of which no one had ever seen before.

  “No doubt it’ll also fetch a pretty penny for Buffalo Bill Cody,” Minnie commented when they had finished.

  Cora, who had been ‘oohing and ahhing’ off to one side, took over the floor. She cupped her hand around her mouth like a megaphone.

  “And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen. Our next excursion, on to Omaha in just a few w
eeks,” she announced.

  Cora noticed Ellie enter, just as the cheers became deafening.

  One of the Wild West Show men stood up and called out, “Wait! There’s more.”

  Everyone shifted toward him.

  “And as fer our horses?” he began, “why, you ain’t never seen what a horse kin do ‘til you see them in our show, and it’s all ‘cause of our bronco buster! His name’s Brett Parker, and he’s the best horse trainer there is, no doubt ‘bout it.”

  “Ellie,” Cora beamed, clapping her hands. “Isn’t this the most exciting thing in the world?”

  Seeing her mother’s flushed face, Ellie smiled. “It is exciting––for you, Mama.”

  It was like the time she had snapped at her girlhood friend, Charlene, who had bragged about getting an ‘A’ on a paper when Ellie got an ‘A-’. The second the words slipped out of her mouth, she knew she’d made a mistake.

  Cora’s eyes darkened. “It is exciting, Ellie, not just for me but for everyone else in the room, am I right?” She swiveled toward the crowd.

  A stillness hung over the room for several seconds, broken only by a single cough from Pete.

  The Wild West Show cowboy cleared his throat. “As I was sayin’, that trainer, Brett Parker is his name, well, he kin git a horse that’s chute crazy ‘n startin’ to break in two, then turn him ‘round to be gentle as a lamb. He’s a miracle worker, that’s fer sure.”

  “Amen to that!” his friend concurred, reaching for his last swig before following the various customers drifting off leisurely into the cool night air.

  Meanwhile, Cora and Minnie set into motion their closin’ up routine. Glasses were collected and put into soapy water, chairs were repositioned, the settee primed, and finally, lamp wicks were extinguished, using either a quick puff of breath or a two-calloused finger snuff out.

  “Mama,” Ellie said, gently placing her hand on her mother’s arm. “I was wondering if you would like to come with me tomorrow to pick up my books. They’re due to arrive on the Omaha mail stagecoach, and I know how much you enjoy seeing what else arrives. Maybe a gazette or those dress patterns you love so much?”

  Cora nodded. “Perhaps. Let’s see how I feel in the morning. Good night, Ellie. Sleep well.”

  A good night’s rest faired well with Cora. By early morning, she and Minnie were calmly eating a hearty breakfast of biscuits, eggs, and ham when Ellie wandered into the kitchen.

  “Ellie, my girl. Looks like I’m coming with you and your mama this mornin’,” Minnie said, her mouth stuffed with food. One look from Cora, and she dabbed her lips with a fresh linen napkin before taking another sip of coffee.

  “That’s just fine––a family outing,” Ellie answered, looking over at Cora. “Excellent breakfast, Mama.”

  They were, as Pete often claimed, a collective force to be reckoned with. Cora, with her new elegant parasol, Minnie, slap-dashed into whatever dress was handy, and Ellie, in one of her teaching dresses, her hair swept up into a soft, bun, two long wisps framing her face completed the trio.

  The grimy red and black Wells Fargo & Co. Overland Stage coach, with its tarnished yellow wheels, dusty front boot, rusted out luggage and cargo rack, and broken running lamps, had seen better days, yet that was of small consequence to the eager crowd, anxiously waiting for their packages.

  Seeing the three of them approach, Mr. Crowe, the driver, tipped his hat.

  “Why, good morning ladies. Mrs. Cora, Miss Minnie, Miss Ellie. What’re you here for?”

  “My books, Mr. Crowe, my books. I told you about them a few days ago, remember?”

  His brow wrinkled. “I do remember you tellin’ me that, but I don’t recall seein’ any box marked ‘books’ on this load. Sorry.”

  “That can’t be! I received a telegram from the book company saying they would be on this very coach. They must be here!”

  She leaned into the coach’s back and started shifting packages.

  “Whoah, whoah, Miss Ellie! Please don’t do that.”

  The schoolmarm didn’t even slow down. “I’m sorry, I need those books. I’ll just take another minute or so.”

  “Ellie, please,” Cora warned, glancing at a couple of well-dressed women in their fine, ‘Lilly toque’ hats.

  “Now, what’s in these burlap bags? Look! Here they are.”

  Mr. Crowe cleared his throat, as Ellie pulled out two rope-tied piles of books from the bag. Clutched against her side, she couldn’t resist running one finger over the various books’ edges.

  “Double-double, toil and trouble, Fire burn and Caldron bubble,” came a deep, male voice next to her. Looking up, she took a catch breath. Two of the darkest slate-blue eyes she had ever seen were boring a hole into her.

  Minnie laughed. “Ah, there’s an educated man in our midst, and it ain’t even Pete.”

  She thrust out her hand to him, introduced her sister, and while they performed a round of introductions, Ellie snagged a second look at him. With his shoulder length dark brown hair and clean-shaven face, he appeared handsome, intelligent even, but his broad shoulders and large gnarled hands read rough, like he was no stranger to a hard day’s work.

  Now, why would someone like that know Shakespeare?

  “Yes, this is my niece, Ellie Dolan,” Minnie started, as he took the bundles from Ellie and offered her his hand.

  “Miss Dolan? Pleased to meet you. By the way, I admire your determination. My name’s Brett. Brett Parker.”

  The miracle-working broncobuster she’d heard about the night before. She outstretched her gloved hand. “Nice to meet you.” Their hands stayed connected for another beat or two, until Ellie heard Minnie chuckle and Cora sniff.

  “I’ve heard about you, Mr. Parker,” she managed finally, withdrawing her hand.

  “All lies,” he answered with a wink.

  Ellie tossed out a sudden loud, unladylike laugh. “Undoubtedly,” she bantered, taking back her books and noticing a few lines crinkling around his eyes. “You are here to pick up something today?”

  “Yup. A bridle bit for the horse I’ll be training.”

  “And where will you be doing that?” Minnie asked.

  “I’m stayin’ in a room at Mr. Hanson’s stable, so I can work there every morning, at least ‘til the show starts. Then, it’s whatever is needed for the other horses.”

  “So, what’s your official title, Mr. Parker?” Cora inquired, as Ellie and Minnie both shook their heads.

  “Title? Hmm. Not exactly sure, ma’am. Some say wrangler, some broncobuster. For me, I guess I just know how to train horses, is all.”

  “Well, good-day to you, Mr. Parker. I wish you the best of luck,” Cora said.

  He turned to Ellie. “You leaving as well?”

  Glancing down at the ground, she measured her next words. “I suppose we are.”

  “Sure hope to see you again,” she thought she heard him say softly, but she wasn’t sure. She was too busy being pulled away by her mother and listening to her pulse beat up into her ears.

  Around the corner, in front of the hardware store, Minnie started the conversation Ellie was already thinking about. “Now, that was a cool oasis in the middle of a desert.”

  “If you like that rough, cowboy type,” Cora remarked. Turning to her daughter, she added, “You could do better.”

  “He quoted Shakespeare, Mama,” Ellie said softly.

  Minnie looked at her niece, smiled, and shook her head. “She’s a goner,” she sang as low as a baby’s lullaby.

  Just then, several of the more ‘respectable’ women in town approached them from across the street. Carefully lifting up their dress edges to avoid the hard packed dirt, their bonnet steamers fluttered in the breeze, and their calfskin gloves, most probably direct from England, lent an elegant air. Ellie noticed her mother instantly turn to study the store windows, and Minnie’s spine arch backward in a defiant gesture.

  “You are Miss Ellie Dolan, are you not?” one of the ladies said to Ellie, p
erforming an ever so slight curtsey.

  “Why yes, I am. And you are?”

  “I am Mrs. Burnside, and these are my friends, Mrs. Wright and Mrs. Pollock.”

  “Pleased to make your acquaintances, ladies. This is my mother, Cora Dolan, and my aunt, Minnie Dolan,” she announced, politely trying to ignore Cora’s slit eyes and Minnie’s one raised eyebrow.

  The women did their best, but their disdainful faces were transparent. It was clear Ellie was the only one they were anxious to meet.

  “Miss Dolan, I have to tell you, nowadays my son is ever so excited about attending school.” Mrs. Burnside began.

  “Yes, the same with my daughter, Millicent,” Mrs. Wright said. “Now, she practically leaps out of bed first thing in the morning!”

  Mrs. Pollock chimed in. “Yes. Might I add that you are nothing short of miraculous! A true credit to our town.”

  Miracle worker, like the broncobuster? “Thank you, kindly. I must say, your children are a pleasure to teach. So smart, so capable,” Ellie added sincerely, yet knowing full well the effect of her words.

  The three women, puffed up like peacocks, chortled proudly, nodded to her, gave half-nods in the general direction of her aunt and mother, and moved on. As they sauntered away, the three Dolans stood and watched. All of a sudden, Minnie and she doubled over in unison, trying to suppress their cackles, but Cora remained quiet, drifting back in time:

  She had felt so happy, so proud to be out in the town on a Saturday morning, arm-in-arm with Madam Ana. Up ahead a carriage jostled down the street toward them, its windows dusty, its wheels and underbelly mud-splattered. Just as it stopped in front of them, one of the female passengers leaned out of the window and caught sight of Mrs. Ana. Instantly the inside curtains dropped down with a light thunk.

  “Why did the curtains go down?” Cora asked.

  Mrs. Ana’s body turned rigid. “Because they don’t vant to see me and my place of bizness, child.”