“What manner of books are you talking about?” Mrs. Endicott’s smile had vanished. “And how do you propose garnering extra funds for these books? After all, Miss Dolan, we’ve already raised quite a tidy sum for school books––at your request, I might add.”
“We could do bake sales, raffles, and all manner of things. I could also offer those popular dime novels. Anything to get people to read.”
In the silence, a lone cricket sawed.
Mrs. Endicott’s face reddened. One loud, determined sniff later, she drew herself up regally. “Perhaps you are used to such influences, given your extraordinary living circumstances, but frankly, we do not wish to obtain such low-brow literature. Indeed, I find it surprising that a woman of your intelligence would stoop so low as to even suggest such materials. It makes me wonder.”
“Wonder about what Mrs. Endicott?” Ellie’s stance widened as her jaw set. “Have you not been satisfied with my teaching methods?”
Mrs. Endicott’s cheeks flushed pink. “Yes, but…”
“I’m only trying to further the education of all of South Benton. However, I’m also a realist. I understand that not everyone will want to read the classics right off the bat. But I truly believe that once reading is introduced and turned into a habit, no matter the material, people will be more inclined to read higher literature.”
Obviously flustered, Mrs. Endicott started shuffling a few papers in front of her as several others cleared their throats.
“Well,” she said coldly. “We’ll just have to see about that.”
All of a sudden, Ellie fully understood what her mother had been fighting her whole life. It was the Mrs. Endicotts of the world, with just a few words or a simple gesture, who could dismiss the likes of the Dolans in an instant.
“Interesting idea, Miss Dolan,” Judge Endicott said finally, eyeing his wife. “We shall discuss this privately, and you shall have our answer in due course.”
“Thank you, Judge Endicott,” Ellie replied, bolstering herself up and trying to remember all Thomas’ encouraging words from earlier that morning.
Two weeks later, Ellie, now able to fully concentrate on her students, was in the middle of a lively lesson on Zeus and his nemesis, Hades, when Mrs. Peabody, a member of the school committee, delivered a note from the judge. Smiling broadly, the well-dressed woman with a particularly stylish navy blue hat, handed it over and commented on how much she admired the young teacher, no matter what Mrs. Endicott had said.
A good sign, Ellie thought, hopeful, as she opened up the note. Sure enough, it contained a go-ahead for her project. “Do thank the judge for me,” she said, anticipating how excited Thomas and Brett would be when she told them.
Her happiness was short-lived. No sooner did Mrs. Peabody exit when two boy students, pretending to be Zeus and Hades, started a mock argument. That quickly evolved into a physical jousting match, with all the students taking sides, cheering each of them on, and creating a general racket. Thank goodness Mrs. Peabody had left, Ellie chuckled quietly, as she rounded up the happy children for more serious endeavors. Within minutes, they were all sitting dutifully at their desks, concentrating on Greek mythology.
“I knew it would happen,” Thomas announced proudly when Ellie told him the news.
“What do you mean?”
“Ellie, you are force to be reckoned with. Your intelligence and your dogged determination will get you far.” He paused thoughtfully. “In fact, you’d be a wonderful detective.”
Ellie burst out laughing. “Oh yes, of course. As if Alan Pinkerton would allow that.”
“Actually, one of his most successful detectives during the Civil War was a woman by the name of Kate Varne.”
“Really?” Ellie’s eyes widened. “What kind of duties did she perform? Did she dress up like a man and go riding through the countryside to meet up with dangerous fellows?”
Thomas laughed. “Are you sure you haven’t been reading your mother’s dime novels? No, Ellie, she would dress up in her most coquettish dresses and attend Washington parties where known Confederate sympathizers would be, in order to overhear any pertinent information regarding military strategies. It worked. Apparently, just by being so charming and gracious, she overheard or was told about vital troop movement and plans that later aided the Union army enormously.”
“Me, a detective. Fascinating.”
“You never know about life, Ellie. You really don’t.” He trailed off and stared past her, as if seeing ghosts.
Watching him closely, Ellie wondered which ghost, in particular, was still haunting him.
* *
When Mrs. Endicott and Mrs. Peabody stopped Ellie on the street a week later, Mrs. E’s face was cordial, Mrs. P’s face, extremely cheerful. Fiercely competitive with each other when it came to fashion, they always made sure each of their outfits would receive many an envious glance from the local townswomen strolling by. Reflecting fine sewing acumen, each dress was made from the latest Parisian silk, with braided trim etched down the bodices, sleeve cuffs, and hems. It all ended in the pinnacle of their bustles. Mrs. Endicott’s collar was fur-lined. Mrs. Peabody’s was not. Both hats were feathered and tilted at strategic, forty-five degree angles.
“Miss Dolan, we have some good news for you,” Mrs. Endicott began.
“Yes?” Ellie couldn’t help admiring her braiding and both hats.
“Yes, dear,” Mrs. Peabody said, beaming. “We have decided to sponsor a dance at the town hall in two weeks’ time, and you shall be our guest of honor, in order to tell the entire community about your movable library. What do you say to that?”
Ellie’s eyes grew even larger. “Why, that’s lovely. Thank you both so much!”
“Miss Ellie! Miss Ellie!” came two gleeful calls from across the street. Ellie saw Marlena and Rosie and motioned them over, as Mrs. Peabody looked uncomfortable, and Mrs. Endicott positively sputtered.
Enthusiastic before, now standing within inches of the tight-lipped dowagers, the ladies of the night turned edgy.
As the older women’s true colors surfaced, Ellie turned mischievous.
“Hello, ladies. I would like to introduce you to Mrs. Peabody and Mrs. Endicott. Mrs. Peabody, Mrs. Endicott, Miss Marlena and Miss Rose.”
The two doves curtsied graciously, and the older women dipped their heads ever so slightly.
“Apparently, there is to be a town hall dance in two weeks’ time,” Ellie said. “Isn’t that wonderful? Get out your dancing shoes.”
Mrs. Endicott gagged. “Now, wait a moment. I don’t think it’s a good idea to invite them.”
“Yes, I agree,” Mrs. Peabody concurred.
Facing the dowagers, Ellie’s eyebrow shot up. “Ladies, you did say this dance was for the entire community, did you not?”
The pause seemed endless.
“Yes, I suppose we did.” Mrs. Endicott sniffed. “Well, good day to you, Miss Dolan.”
When the two women disappeared around a corner, Marlena put her hand on the teacher’s sleeve. “Sorry, Miss Ellie.”
“Nonsense,” Ellie exclaimed. “Utter nonsense.” With a quick squeeze to Marlena’s shoulder, she headed over to the post office.
* *
The night of the dance, Cora was surprised to see the town hall never looking better. Mr. Corrigan had admitted to her what a tremendous effort it was to get his piano moved in, along with Judge Endicott’s ‘caller ‘n fiddler’ hired from a neighboring town. She admired the flowers lovingly placed on tables alongside plenty of whiskey and champagne glasses, and as waves of people arrived with their pies, cakes, barbequed beef, and Sunday-go-to-meetin’ clothes, the jamboree chatter rippled through the room like a rain storm blowing in, or, as Minnie remarked, “It’s a real goose drowner!”
“There’s sure plenty of tonsil varnish here tonight,” Pete commented.
“Pete, have a little restraint,” Cora said, as she openly searched the room.
“Brett’s over there, Ellie, honey,�
�� Minnie pointed, then watched her niece scurry over to him. Cora stared at the young couple and sighed.
“Cora, honey, why do you dislike him so much?”
Cora looked thoughtful. “I don’t really. Frankly, I’m not sure what I feel, Minnie. I only know she’s so young, so trusting.”
“Is that what’s this is all about? Trust? Just because you haven’t had any for years, doesn’t mean Ellie can’t have some, you know.”
“I know.” Cora started to bite her lower lip.
“All I can say is, she’s got a right to find her own way,” Minnie said, gently placing her hand on Cora’s arm.
“What is all you have to say?” Thomas asked, his beard freshly clipped, his suit, vest, and cravat elegant.
“My, don’t you look handsome!” Minnie exclaimed, elbowing her sister.
Cora presented a half-smile but had trouble meeting the detective’s eyes. Damn! He did look handsome, she thought. Too handsome.
She turned to see cowboys, wranglers, saloon gals, and doves squeezed in next to farmers, their families, local townspeople, and the expensively-dressed, upper crust of society. Petite napkins and small plates had been provided, and as food was served and eaten, drinks sipped or guzzled, the noise bouncing off the walls reached epic proportions.
“This is really something, isn’t it?” Thomas shouted.
“Yes, it is,” she answered, feeling his eyes on her. Still, she couldn’t quite look at him directly. He was too handsome, too real.
Several glass clinks sounded. When that failed to quiet people, more and more glasses were being clinked, until finally the crowd hushed.
Judge Endicott was holding court. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began. “We are here tonight to first of all, honor the members of the South Benton School Committee.”
There was polite applause. A toddler started bawling. Pausing, he cleared his throat and waited until she was snatched up by her mother and escorted outside.
“But we are also here tonight,” he continued, “to honor quite a remarkable young lady. A lady, I might add, who at first gave us slight apoplexy.” Chuckles broke out.
Clearing his voice, he moved on. “Miss Ellie Dolan has not only proven herself as a truly fine teacher, she is now responsible for instigating a new book program for both children and adults in South Benton. It’s called the Movable Library. It…”
He never finished. The clapping, stamping, and whistling overtook everything.
Thomas leaned into Cora. “You must be so proud, Cora,” he said.
Nodding, she leaned in toward him. “Yes,” she replied, slightly teary-eyed.
Across the room, Cora watched as Brett, nestled against Ellie, gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before she stood up to curtsey to the room.
Minnie laughed. “Ain’t that cute? They’re in love.”
Cora nodded, thinking about trust.
“Yes, people do fall in love, I’m told,” Thomas said, his face inscrutable.
Suddenly, all heads rotated toward the front of the room, as the musicians tuned their instruments.
“The musicians are a’startin’ folks,” a cowboy in chaps cried.
Sure enough, the fiddler, already settled down onto a chair, was giving the room the proper signal for these kinds of events. Thwack-thwack-thwack! went his bow tapping against his fiddle as he grinned, winked, and the excitement tore through the room like the start of a horse race.
Next to him, the caller took a swig of whiskey and clapped his hands together. “My, oh my,” he laughed. “Gents, be nice ‘n ladies, get your dancin’ shoes on and get ready to go!”
As men chuckled, women giggled, and the caller motioned the fiddler to begin, Cora could feel her own heartbeat excelling.
“Grab a partner an’ get to the floor…” the caller started, but there was no need. Couples were already up in circles: Marlena and Rosie waiting with two cowboys, Ellie with Brett, farmers and their wives, and a couple of unknown cowhands with scarves wrapped around their necks––the sign that if they wanted to dance and no ladies were available, they could act as one of the gals tonight, no questions asked.
Choose yo’ partner, form a ring,
Figure eight, an’ double L swing.
First swing six, then swing eight,
Swing ‘em like swingin on the ol’ gate.
Feet pounded on the floor like a buffalo herd, and Cora noticed the rhythmic clapping grew louder and louder, with even the Endicotts and the Peabodys tapping their toes. Soon, she was tapping hers as well, as the room vibrated with song and dance.
Ducks in the river, goin’ to the ford,
Coffee in a little rag, sugar in a goard.
Swing ‘em once an’ let ‘em go.
All hands left and do-si-do.
Sweat dripping from the fiddler’s and caller’s brows matched the broadening circles of dampness under everyone’s armpits. After numerous fluttering fans emerged and hefty women retreated to the sidelines, the caller got the message.
“Folks. Enough movin’ round like hornets in a bonnet.” He drew a deep breath and patted the fiddler on the shoulder. “Let’s slow it down and have a nice waltz.”
Many flushed faces nodded, and slowly people drifted together, their palms slippery, their sweaty hair matted and askew, relieved with the new command.
Cora watched the dancers, too keenly aware of Thomas next to her tapping his toe slowly. All at once, Ellie and Brett appeared, holding hands and looking slightly apprehensive.
“Looks like you two are havin’ a good time!” Minnie exclaimed.
Nodding, Thomas added, “Yes, you certainly do.”
Ellie turned to her mother. “Mama, there’s something we want to tell you, and I figure this is as good a time as any.”
“Yes?” Cora murmured.
A chest heave, and it floated out. “Brett and I are engaged.”
She got no further. Arms encircled her like a tight swaddling cloth as Minnie shrieked with joy and Cora had a frozen smile on her face.
“I knew it, I gist knew it! Congratulations, to the both of you,” Minnie cried.
As Thomas shook Brett’s hand and hugged Ellie, Cora remained quiet.
“Oh, Mama,” Ellie whispered, stroking her mother’s shoulder. “Can’t I be happy?”
“Why, of course!” Cora said, remembering what Minnie said, how Ellie was allowed to trust. And find love.
Without warning, an Irish bodrán drum started thumping. Whoops and hollers were unleased, and all attention swiveled toward the front of the room where the fiddler had started an Irish jig.
Minnie clapped her hands. “Come, girls, it’s the Dolans turn to shine!”
Grabbing Cora with one hand, Ellie with the other, she forced them out onto the middle of the floor, and using authentic Irish steps, her hands on her hips, she began dancing. Ellie laughed and chimed in. Cora stayed still, until her sister and daughter were dancing in true Irish style—legs executing intricate patterns, their upper bodies straight as laundry pegs holding steady on a clothes line.
Thinking of her ma, Cora shrugged and joined in, as the dance steps got more complicated and the entire room watched, egging them on with rhythmic applause.
It was as if she were back in that encampment so many years before, dancing in front of strangers in a new land. Only this time, it was in front of her friends, her neighbors, and Thomas. She let herself go.
The music and drumbeats swelling, soon it was over as abruptly as it had begun. People walked by the threesome, slapping them on their shoulders and nodding graciously, as conversation returned to normal and a lilting waltz infiltrated the room.
Thomas turned to Cora, taking in her sparkling eyes, her fly-away hair, her collar opened one button down, and asked in a low voice, “May I have this next dance?”
He held out his large hand.
Exhausted, taken aback, she reacted without thinking. “Sorry, Thomas. I’m quite tired.”
Instantly, she regretted h
er words. When she saw his eyebrows raise, and one of his cheek muscles twitch, she opened up her mouth to explain, to try to soften her remark, but it was too late.
Clearing his throat and straightening his cravat, he turned succinct.
“Excuse me, then. I intend on dancing,” he said coldly, and without a backwards glance, walked across the room and stopped in front of a school committee member’s oldest daughter, Merribelle. Within seconds, they were twirling around on the dance floor––he talking continuously, she gazing up at him with enamored eyes, hanging onto every word.
“You had your chance, Cora,” Minnie snorted, after watching them dance for a while. “He’s a handsome devil and if you don’t…”
“Just don’t, Minnie,” she flared. “I’m tired, I don’t feel like dancing, and I don’t need your meddling. Just leave me be!” Still, she couldn’t take her eyes off of Thomas’ arm around Merribelle’s waist.
“Folks, the next dance is Ladies’ Choice, so grab the man of your dreams and keep those dancin’ shoes goin’!” He hardly got the last words out when the room broke out in a cheer.
Shot full of adrenaline, Cora didn’t even hesitate. Charging over to Thomas and Merribelle, on their way to a second dance, all she could concentrate on was his arm, and how it should be around her waist, not someone else’s.
“No you don’t! Now it’s my turn, Miss Merribelle,” Cora said firmly, gripping Thomas’ arm from Merribelle’s slim waist and yanking him over to her.
With a slight shrug to the disappointed debutant, Thomas positioned his arm firmly around Cora’s waist and brought her onto the dance floor.
“‘Bout time!” Minnie called out, then watched them glide effortlessly, with Thomas’ Cheshire cat grin growing as large as all of Nebraska.
Pete steadied himself against her and gave out a large burp.
The waltz was extra slow and melodious and to further enhance the romantic setting, Mr. Corrigan had come up with a brilliant plan. Walking around the room, he blew out alternating lamps as the room dimmed in increments, the aaah’s grew serious, and the men’s arms tightened around their partners’ waists.
Ignoring the usual waltz ‘space protocol’ between partners, Cora’s and Thomas’ bodies moved together as a single entity as they rotated and swayed, wordless. Pressed up against him like old times, her body tingled. But there was something else. The stirrings she was feeling as his lower body hardened against her, were a sudden reminder of things she had not thought about for years, not since that night on Madam Ana's porch so long ago. At one point, he leaned back slightly and carefully placed several wispy strands behind her ear, and when he stroked her neck with his fingers, she felt it down to her toes.
The Dolan Girls Page 19
