Even Cora seemed grateful, although she couldn’t resist saying, “I suppose he did act like a gentleman. Not bad for a cowboy.”
“Remember, Mama, he’s friends with Annie Oakley,” Ellie murmured seconds before she fell into a much needed, sound sleep.
The next day Ellie was back at school, regaling her students all about her clumsiness and how being alert would have saved her, her horse, and everyone else a whole lot of trouble.
“Remember,” she said, using her mother’s mandate, “always expect the unexpected.”
* *
“Miss Dolan, Miss Dolan, William just pulled one of my pigtails!”
Ellie shook her head. Lately, classroom decorum had fallen by the wayside. The children, once so obedient, so eager, now seemed endlessly needful of her undivided attention. Had she created monsters? She couldn’t say. All she knew was these days she had trouble concentrating on anything. Her teaching, her homework corrections, her lesson planning, even her morning rides with the other horse, all seemed less important than they did before.
Minnie and Cora must have noticed the change, because the night before, they both had become quite vocal.
“You’ve fallen for that feller, I can feel it,” Minnie declared, lining up shot glasses on top of the credenza.
Cora, her inventory list in hand, had scoffed. “Nonsense, it’s the accident. Perhaps you should see the doctor again, Ellie. Don’t you dare laugh,” she snapped as Minnie chortled.
In the classroom, Ellie now drew her attention back to William, who was fully enjoying his power. But when he caught sight of his teacher moving up his aisle like a hurricane, he dropped the girl’s pigtail and held up his hands like a train robbery victim. Much to the delight of his fellow classmates, he hollered, “I give up! I give up!”
“Now, William,” Ellie stood over him and scolded, “this is not like you. What’s gotten into you?”
All of a sudden, several children started yelling, “School’s over! School’s over!” pointing to the grandfather clock against the northeast wall.
Sighing, Ellie glanced over to the expensive gift that the grateful Judge and Mrs. Endicott had given her and nodded. School was indeed over. Were they so anxious to leave? Had she become like the other spinster schoolmarms they so detested? As they picked up their school bags and filed out, as much as she tried thinking of better lesson plans, the urge to not only check on the sorrel, but also to visit Brett in the stable’s tackle room to thank him, flooded her like a greedy child clamoring for a new toy.
* *
Just shy of the stables, a good wind kicked up, a sure fire sign her lightweight shawl would be no match for the early evening’s sting. Hugging the sheath closer, she entered the stables and called out his name. At first, all she could hear was the sound of horses in their stalls, snorting, pawing, and munching, and she hurried over to them to see how her horse was faring. He still had a light bandage wrapped around his leg, but the swelling had all but disappeared, and his spirits seemed high. She was stroking the sorrel’s head and cooing when she heard a couple of bridle clicks.
Brett had entered the room, his opened shirt only partly covering his muscular chest.
“Ellie, excuse me,” he said, buttoning up his shirt and tucking it into his pants as fast as he could. “I didn’t expect you.”
She stared at his upper torso for a couple of seconds, then focused on the floor. Crossing her arms over her chest, she shivered.
“You cold?” he asked.
“I’m all right,” she answered automatically, but the trembling wasn’t stopping.
He pulled his jacket off a nearby hook, stepped in close, and carefully draped it over her shoulders, her scent of rosewater reeling him in. Scouring her face, he waited for a sign, some sort of go-ahead, but her eyes darted sideways and her hands stayed molded against her body, so he took a pace back. She wasn’t ready.
“I came to check on my horse, and to thank you again for the other day,” she managed. Oh Lord, how pathetic.
He paused, gauging her a beat before moving in close again. He couldn’t help it. Resting his large hands on her petite shoulders, he said, “No need for thanks, Ellie. I saw you in trouble and I acted, that’s all. Well, that’s not really all.”
She offered a tiny half-smile, and he could feel her slackening under his hold. When she tilted her face up, it caught the early twilight’s glow, softening her features. With her beauty so close, his breath became jagged, as he carefully angled her chin––and lips––toward his.
“Brett, we will need you to…oh, dear, I’m truly sorry.” Annie’s urgent voice turned apologetic.
Under his breath Brett muttered, “Dang,” while Ellie fidgeted with his jacket, drawing it off her shoulders and handing it back to him.
“Miss Dolan, Brett, please don’t mind me.” Dipping her head, Annie scurried out the door.
“I suppose I should go,” Ellie said.
“Wait, don’t go yet,” he urged, dropping his jacket onto the floor and reaching out for her right arm.
Inexperienced in these matters, she stood frozen, but like his horse wrangling, he surprised her. Leaning over and cupping her face with his hands, he bypassed her lips and kissed her softly on the cheek before letting her go. When she raised one eyebrow, he shrugged. “Had to kiss you at least once, didn’t I?”
Her open laugh ricocheted off the stalls, as the horses looked up lazily to watch.
“Ellie, tomorrow’s Saturday, so no school. Would you care to meet me up at the corral and get a preview of the horses’ show steps? I’m sure you could use one of Annie’s horses. We could take a ride together afterwards.”
No longer fidgeting, she nodded, already looking forward to the next day.
* *
The same palomino that had been so wild, so raw, was now, inside of a week, prancing, cantering, sidestepping, and rearing up on cue. Once Brett and the horse trotted out, some of his additional techniques surfaced. Before each side step, he would draw the reins in using just one hand, not both, finessing the horse’s head with a quick neck pat to guide its hooves, and when he reared up, no spurs were used. He simply leaned back in the saddle with his legs slightly forward, tapped on its rump once, and much like connecting dots on a triangle, the horse wondrously stood up only on its hind legs.
After a time, he gaited over to where Ellie was standing. “Ready for our ride?” he asked.
Their horses were given full rein. Still up on the ridge, they let them canter at a fast clip, then move into a full gallop, then back to a canter before slowing them down again to a controlled amble. As they walked side by side, they chatted about the nature of horses and people.
Taking in the scenery, Ellie remarked first, “It’s such a beautiful day, isn’t it?” She lifted her head up to soak in the full sun’s warmth.
He watched her intently for a moment, then scanned the panoramic view stretched below them. “It sure is. Let’s go down.”
They singled out a shady area beneath a thick cluster of trees. A light stream was trickling nearby, and the breeze rustling through the leaves serenaded their ears. Their horses tied together, Brett extracted a rolled-up blanket from his saddle pack, and spreading it out, they both sat down a foot apart, drinking in their lush surroundings.
“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” the wrangler said softly.
She turned to him. “I’m really curious about something.”
“What?”
“It’s just that…” Being so near to him was disconcerting.
“Yes? As my mother would say, ‘A penny for your thoughts.’”
“How come you know Shakespeare so well?”
He laughed. “For just a wrangler, you mean.”
“I didn’t mean any harm.” She could feel her face warming by the second.
“Don’t worry. No harm done. My ma used to read to me every night, is all. I kind of took to it, I guess.” When he shrugged, she again noticed how broad his shoulders were.
<
br /> “You would definitely get along fine and dandy with Pete,” she said.
“Pete?”
“An old family friend who loves the poets. I was also wondering…”
“Something else on your mind?” Although his tone teased, his eyes were still intense.
She drew a deep breath. “I’m curious. I heard you were from the South, but I don’t detect a strong accent.”
He cocked his head. “Virginia. If your next question is whether my father fought for the Confederate cause or not, I can tell you right off, yes, he did.”
Beet-red, she blurted out, “I didn’t mean to pry.” She looked down then up again. “Did he own slaves?”
“Not pryin’ huh?” He laughed, then grew serious. “No, like most southern folk, we couldn’t afford them, just horses. Just another misunderstanding from the North, I suppose.”
“I really didn’t mean anything by it. Just conversation,” she muttered, touching his arm with the lightest of touches. “The war’s over. I just wonder if that was where you fell in love with horses.” His eyes felt like magnets, rendering her breath shaky.
“I suppose so,” he answered. “Even when I was young I got all fired up around them, felt a kinship somehow. But you should understand that. It’s like you and your books, and why you became a teacher.”
She shook her head. “Actually, that wasn’t my calling.” Her eyebrows knitted. “No, I was sent away at too early an age because of my mother. She had this ridiculous idea her ladies, the ‘doves,’ might teach me too much.”
He reached over and covered her hand. “Maybe your ma was just being protective. I respect that.”
“But at what cost? A fine education back east hardly replaces a mother’s love. And as for a father to talk to, that’s an even darker story I found out about. No, I only had a mother who assumed I couldn’t handle myself, so basically, she sent me away.” A tear gathered in her right eye, threatening to slide down her cheek.
“Oh, Ellie,” he murmured, leaning against her, shoulder to shoulder. “You’re here now. No one’s gonna hurt you, I promise.”
When he pulled her against him, her first thought was how warm his chest and arms felt. “It’s all right, it’s all right,” he whispered.
She could feel her body relaxing––her arms, her chest, her legs––as she melted into him. Involuntarily, she let out a loud sigh, so audible that the palomino standing next to the horse she had borrowed looked at them, then shook his head. Normally, she would laugh, but the thought of kissing Brett was what guided her, and as he turned her face around, she pressed her lips against his to render her first real kiss, ever.
The consummate wrangler, he understood timing versus nature. He met her lips full on but softly, tenderly, as he tried to downplay his male instincts. Within seconds he drew back long enough to ask, “You all right?” but his words were never voiced. He had seen her face––the half-closed lids, the parted mouth, the need to continue.
His embrace strengthened, his kiss intensified, and his hands started roaming over her back and her hips, drawing her into him as he battled the consequences in his mind. This was not simply a dove he could easily afford, or a saloon girl ready for a tryst; this was something different, possibly life altering.
“Ellie, we should stop, before…” he murmured, tilting back slowly.
He eyed her loosened, wispy hair, the rose circles spreading on her cheeks, her chest rising and falling as he shook his head.
“Brett. I never,” she began, then stopped.
He clasped her hand. “Don’t worry. I just think it’s time for you to go home.”
Their trip back to the stables seemed to last a week. Talking lightly about how he could get them ringside seats for the Buffalo Bill Wild West Show through Annie, he remained friendly as ever, even after he put the bridle and saddle away and gave the horses some feed. She quickly checked on the sorrel, and then let him take her back to Madam Ana’s.
On the front porch, she was close to tears. “Brett, if I did anything wrong, please tell me. I’m not…I’ve never…”
“My God, Ellie! Is that what you thought?” He cradled her in his arms. “No, as a matter of fact, you did everything right. Wondrously right. I just had to stop before I…well, you know…” He half groaned. “Ellie, Ellie, you and your kisses are…what can I say?” An almost mischievous look came over him. “Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye than twenty of their swords.”
“You’re actually quoting Romeo and Juliet?” she smiled, somewhat restored. “So, I’m that powerful to you, huh?”
“Yes, especially when you tempt me.” He started to angle in for another kiss, but hearing female chortles coming from inside, drew back. “I guess that means a good-night. I’ll be seeing you soon,” he added lamely, and stepping off the porch, disappeared into the night.
“Someone’s got a new feller!” one of the doves teased as soon as she walked in.
“A new feller all right. And what a feller. He’s a handsome devil, he is. Why, I’d bed him down faster than you can say Jack Rabbit!”
Soon, she was surrounded by a ring of doves dancing around her, pointing to her disheveled hair, poking at her bodice, and cackling hard.
“What’s this nonsense I’m hearing?” Cora hissed, crossing over to her daughter and yanking her riding crop out of her hands. “Ellie, have you forgotten you were going to help me with one of the girl’s legal papers this afternoon?”
“Sorry, Mama.”
“Cora, Cora, let her be,” Minnie broke in. “She’s here now. Why, she just had some fun.” She paused dramatically. “With a feller!”
Screams of laughter and a mock toast from Pete turned Cora’s face dark. “You two,” she snapped at them. “Where were you earlier when I needed your help?” Turning to the parlor’s assembly, she ordered, “Remember everyone, we were gonna close early tonight.”
The doves, Ellie, Pete, and the customers took one look at her and scattered.
“What’s going on, Cora?” Minnie asked later, seeing her sister’s nightly cleaning routine now done cavalry style––dishes clanged together, the credenza wiped down as if she were scrubbing laundry in a creek, the settee pillows plumped up like a pugilist throwing punches.
Just as she finished, a lone cowboy, one of the last to leave, collided with her, almost knocking her down.
“Oh, he’s just had a little too much who-hit-John, is all,” Minnie said, chuckling.
“I’ll give him a little too much who-hit-John,” Cora retorted, grabbing a broom and whacking the cowpoke on his rear. Wham! she smacked. “Get out! We don’t want any more drunk cowboys in here!”
Stunned, he stumbled out onto the porch before falling face down into the street.
Cora stared at his inert body. “Just leave him alone. Serves him right,” she snarled. Spent, she sank down on the settee. A light kiss on her cheek startled her and looking up, she saw Minnie sitting down beside her, an odd expression on her face.
“What’s that for?” Cora asked.
“I just figured you could use a little love, that’s all.” Another quick peck on her sister’s cheek, and she was gone, leaving Cora alone with her thoughts.
* *
No Dickens that night for Ellie. Snuggled up in bed, the lamp extinguished, she closed her eyes and smiled, stroking the satin comforter over and over as the wind increased its whispers and whooshes. She pictured Brett in his bunk at the stables in his long johns, perhaps completely bare-chested, as he read one poem after another. She tried to imagine the words he might be reading, but the only thing that came to mind was what the doves had told her so long ago:
“All I can say, Ellie, is when a man touches you there, it gets you all inflamed, like you want him to never stop touchin’ you there, and other places, too.”
“What other places, Becky?”
Susannah laughed. “Like your titties, for one thing, and your–”
Josephine leaned in. “Your snatchbox,
your––”
Down the hall, in the room they still shared, Cora climbed into bed next to her gently snoring sister. The full moon was beaming in strips of light through the lightly banging shutters as she tried to think of all the things she should be grateful for. Her daughter was back home. Their establishment, now turning a fine profit. Her sister––her rock, her Blarney Stone––lying next to her. But as Minnie’s snores grew more intense, Cora stared up at the ceiling, a single tear making its way down her cheek and onto her neck.
Damn you, Thomas.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Buffalo Bill and Beyond
Cora had never been so excited. At the first crack of dawn, she was in the parlor ready to go, dressed in one of her smartest travel outfits. By the time everyone else started preparing for their trip to Omaha, she had unfolded, read, and refolded their official invitation––signed by none other than Annie Oakley––at least ten times before it made its way into her purse.
“I see the envelope was addressed to Ellie, not me.” She had initially pouted a little about that, then rethought it. A special invitation was a special invitation, after all. Brett had brought it over several nights before, reassuring them that they would all be treated ‘right’––more than right, but even though her eyes sparkled when Brett mentioned that Buffalo Bill and Annie Oakley were inviting them all to dinner after the show, she had trouble concealing her annoyance at the messenger. No sooner had he closed the door on his way out, she voiced her thoughts.
“He must think he’s mighty fine to be the deliverer of such a worthy invitation. After all, he’s just a glorified cowboy. He’s not on the same level as Annie Oakley, for goodness sake!”
“Cora, if you don’t stop,” Minnie warned, as Ellie threw up her hands and left the room.
The week before, after much discussion, Cora and Minnie decided that in order to diminish costs, most of the doves would be lodged at a slightly lower-end hotel down the street. But then Cora came up with a unique idea. To make the excursion even more exciting, why not create a lottery, to garner even more enthusiasm? That way, Ellie, Pete, and the two winners of their ‘Wild West lottery’ would all get to visit the Omaha Grand, where the sophisticates stayed at outrageous prices. Amidst bated breath and crossed fingers, the lottery took place late one night in their parlor, and when Marlena and Rosie won it, folks claimed their shrieks could be heard for several blocks.
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