The Dolan Girls

by S. R. Mallery

  “Oh Cora,” he half groaned, as Cora felt the gooseflesh ripple over her arms. Still waltzing, still floating, they continued on, wordless, as Corrigan kept blowing out more and more lights.

  Without realizing it, they had drifted out toward the back door, out where the air felt cool and fresh, and for the first time since forever, she wasn’t aware of her brain, only her senses.

  “The moon’s almost full tonight,” she murmured. Biting her lip, she gazed up at him.

  “Yes it is,” he murmured back, and pulling her close, lifted her face up toward his so they could kiss, for the first time in their lives as grown adults––slowly, deeply.

  Sensations sparked through her like lightning bolts, sensations that made her kiss him back just as fully, as she ran her fingers through his hair. Transported, the screams of laughter and feet stomping inside had become a dim haze, as he stroked her back with his hands, and she melted even further into him.

  “Lord!” Minnie exclaimed, coming outside where they stood.

  Like two fighting cats being doused with water, the couple jumped apart. Minnie laughed.

  “It’s about time…”

  “Stop it, Minnie!” Cora flared, her chest still heaving unevenly. She glanced at Thomas and said, “I better go in now.” Minnie shook her head, while Thomas looked grim.

  “Cora, please?” he pleaded.

  “No, I need to go. After all, I’m not a young girl anymore. I’m a businesswoman,” she answered, fidgeting with her hair before she went back inside.

  Thomas turned to Minnie. “I don’t understand her, Minnie. I truly don’t.”

  “Thomas, honey, I guess she’s lived with a world of hurt, and frankly, she just doesn’t want to get hurt again, if you get my meaning,” she said, and headed inside.

  When Cora saw her, she motioned her sister over.

  “Minnie, don’t get any ideas about this. My trust will only go so far. It was a one-time kiss.” She watched her sister open her mouth. “Don’t, just don’t.”

  * *

  Cocooned in his arms, she marveled at their strength, musculature, and devotion. Arms that were so familiar and had given her a taste of pubescent love then left her to be broken. But all that was forgotten now because her pleasure centers were on fire. No longer a teenage girl, she was a full grown woman craving his deep, sensuous kisses, his strokes everywhere on her body––her breasts, her neck and most needful of all, her private area that only the doves talked about.

  As if in a trance, she began her own response––touching, stroking, exploring, until Thomas’ body began morphing into Wes.’ Now it was Wes running through the house, a foot behind her, his shoes pounding on the floor boards. Or was that simply her heartbeat exploding deep inside her chest?

  His breath, hot and labored on her back, his gulping––or was it her making those half-gasps, half-choking noises? She couldn’t tell. It was all tied up together. Until he cornered her in her bedroom, put down his gun on the night side table––the one with the notches he was so proud of––and with a single, back-handed smack, sent her flying.

  Mouth tight, eyes like steel, he grabbed her by her hair and flung her onto the bed. On her side, her head pounding, her lip bleeding, the only thing she stared dully at those notches on his gun handle. Then, only blackness.

  When Cora sat bolt upright, her hair matted, her nightgown drenched in sweat, Minnie was already sitting up next to her. “What in the world, Cora?” Then she softened. “Bad dream?”

  “Just like my old dreams,” she whispered. “Strange. After all this time.”

  “Wes?” Minnie asked softly. There was a long pause. “Honey, maybe you’ve got too many bad memories locked up tight inside you.”

  “Well, maybe. Maybe I’m spoiled for any man, even Thomas. Ever think about that, Minnie?” Cora asked, bitterly.

  “Oh, Cora, honey …”

  * *

  In the dark, the fire, crackling and popping, shot tiny embers up into the almost full-mooned sky. Eight gruff, stubbled men rubbed their hands together before splaying them out toward the fire to soak up its warmth.

  The Soltano gang had been riding for well over eight hours, and now, tired and hungry, this spot seemed as good as any to bed down for the night.

  “So, what were you sayin’ before, Clyde?” José asked.

  “I was gist sayin’ that if you want some money and no problems from Omaha vigilantes, there’s another way to go, is all.”

  José looked over at his brother. This Clyde was good at his job, but as his brother had mentioned privately, something of a cabrón. Definitely lower principled than even they were and that said something.

  Guillermo cleared his throat, his eyes like nicks. “What’s on your mind, then?”

  “I was thinkin’ that maybe we should try smaller, nearby towns. Towns like Scottsbluff, Brownville, Henderson. Or a town like South Benton.”

  “What’s they got that Omaha ain’t got?”

  “Well, fer one thing, they don’t got the fire power of a big place, like Omaha. Second, I heard tell there’s banks that ain’t locked up tight but still have some real coin. None of that short bit stuff. It could be enough money to turn a wet mule.” He looked around. “That’s if yer willin’ to try.”

  “Well, which one, then, since you’re always makin’ more noise than a jackass in a tin barn?” Juan half snorted.

  Clyde kept his eyes steady. “I don’t claim to know all them answers. All’s I know is I stopped at South Benton a bit ago. Pretty fresh meat there.”

  “Yeah?” Several of the men licked their lips.

  “Easy banks ‘n easy gals. What could be better?” Clyde finished, turning his gun over and over again in his hands.

  José scratched his head and turned to his brother and Juan. “I ain’t sure about this. What do you think, Guillermo? Juan?”

  Juan shrugged, but Guillermo leaned back, his arms across his chest. “I’m just wonderin’ Clyde,” he said, turning to the newcomer, “back in that saloon we all went to in the last town, that old barkeep called out ‘Wes’ to you when we walked in. What’s that about? You been lyin’ to us?”

  Clyde stared at his accuser and blew out a puff of air. “Lyin’? Nah. I figure a man can call himself whatever he’s got a hankering fer, right? Gist thought Clyde was as good a name as any, so I took it.” He leaned in toward Guillermo. “By the way, how do I know your name is really Guillermo?” he smirked.

  They all stared at him for a couple of seconds, stunned. Then they bust out laughing.

  “This guy’s a real card,” José said, slapping his thigh.

  His brother didn’t budge. “Those are some mighty fine notches in your gun handle, whatever-your-name-is. They mean something?” he quizzed.

  Wes grinned. “They sure do.” He snickered, and rubbed his aching leg.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  When Chickens Come Home To Roost

  José Soltano knew better than to enter South Benton full force; too much attention drawn, too easy to attract the local sheriff. So at approximately eight o’clock, under dark cover, just he, his backup man, Frank, plus his lifelong friend, Juan, and Wes slow-gaited their horses into town. Guillermo and the others would join them later.

  Weary, expressionless, riding in a slightly triangular formation, all four of them transitioned from a jog to a walk as their bodies shifted back and forth in their saddles and their right hands loosely held their split-reins. Slowly, they surveyed the wooden buildings around them––the locked up stores and churches, the still open saloons and hotels.

  In front of the Wayward Hotel, they pulled their horses up short, tied their reins to the large wooden hitching post, and headed for the lobby, their boots stomping on the weathered boardwalk hard enough to make it creak and groan.

  “Got two rooms for the four of us?” José asked, half smirking at the nervous hotel clerk, Tobias.

  Thin, bespectacled, the young man gulped. For all their attempt at cordiali
ty, there was something about these strangers that didn’t quite sit right. He thought of ringing for Mr. Belmont, then remembered his boss had taken the night off to go to Madam Ana’s for Miss Ellie’s engagement party. So he cleared his throat, straightened his tie, and nodded twice.

  “Would you please all sign the register?” Tobias asked, stepping back a pace as José stepped forward, his Colt six-shooter glistening in the desk lamp’s glow.

  Guns. All of them had one––actually one man came with two––and from the looks of it, they might very well use all of them, Tobias reasoned, suddenly noticing that one of them hesitated before registering his name. Not a good sign. Beads of sweat started polka-dotting the young man’s brow as he handed two keys over to José, who tipped his hat, looked at the keys’ room numbers and headed upstairs, the other three in tow.

  Tobias wiped his brow and wished with all his soul that Mr. Belmont were there and he had gone to that engagement party.

  * *

  Ellie never looked lovelier. Flushed cheeks the color of budding pink roses, her hair rinsed in lilac water, now reflecting off the chandelier’s glitter and producing an almost iridescent sheen. Newly imported from France, her rich, forest green dress, bought at a local dressmaker's shop, was of the finest silk. Although she had scoffed at its expense and her mother’s insistence on buying it, when she saw Brett’s eyes light up and his hands instinctively reach out to encircle her waist, she glowed. Perhaps it was worth it after all. She smiled, gave her mother a fast wink, and leaned into her fiancée.

  Just then Thomas entered, dressed in his Sunday best. Paying no attention to the various doves’ side-glances at him, or Marlena reaching out to stroke his shoulder, he headed straight for the Dolan inner circle.

  “Ellie, you look beautiful tonight!” he said.

  They all turned toward him as he added, “As does your mother.”

  “Thomas, you know how to spoil a girl. Doesn’t he, Cora?” Minnie said loudly, elbowing her sister in the ribs and tossing out a roaring laugh.

  Blushing, Cora cleared her throat, clanked on her glass with a spoon several times and announced loudly to the guests, “Everyone, dinner is served!”

  In the dining room, five long tables had been set up with assorted donated-for-the-occasion chairs, table cloths that didn’t match, an odd mix of china and tableware, and fresh flowers picked by Rosie and Marlena earlier that day. Since all the invitees were mostly friends of the household, as food was eaten, and whiskey and champagne sipped or guzzled, a half-hour in, the din had grown exponentially.

  Brett and Ellie were next to each other, of course, with Thomas alongside the horse wrangler, and Cora beside her daughter. Pete and Minnie were across the table as were Marlena and Rosie, now known, after the Wild West show lottery, as the ‘special’ doves.

  As Ellie and Brett talked, laughed, and slyly touched each other, Cora studied them carefully. Perhaps Minnie was right. Perhaps trust for Ellie was possible, because Brett had never caused a reason not to trust him. Then she looked over at Thomas. He was here now, but why not for all those years?

  After Pete’s second glass of whiskey, he couldn’t help himself. “Ellie, you are a treasure to us all.” He looked around to make sure everyone was listening. “As Shakespeare would say:

  Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

  Thou art more lovely and more temperate;

  Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

  And…and…”

  He paused, his eyes rolling upwards as if searching his brain.

  Brett stepped in to help. “And summer’s lease hath all too short a date…”

  Pete’s eyes were saucer-sized. “How ‘bout a little Percy Shelley, hmm?”

  Hail to thee, blithe spirit!

  Bird thou never wert,

  That from heaven, or near it,

  Pourest thy full heart

  In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.

  Higher still and higher

  From the earth thou springest,

  Like a cloud of fire:

  The blue deep…the blue deep…”

  He paused again, his brow furrowed in concentration.

  The blue deep thou wingest, And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest, Brett continued.

  “My boy, what a superb specimen you are,” Pete roared. “How do you know the poets so well?”

  “His ma read it to him all the time,” Ellie explained, her face flushed with pride.

  Minnie laughed. “A-hah, a real dash-fire! Now who can resist a handsome horse wrangler with a brain.”

  Embarrassed, Brett looked down until Ellie announced, “You are a wonderful combination, my soon-to-be husband.”

  “How about Brett being such a good man?” Ellie offered next. “As Wordsworth said, The best portion of a good man’s life, His little, nameless, unremembered acts, Of kindness and of love.”

  Applause came loud and fast, particularly from the doves. Marlena, standing up and holding onto Rosie’s shoulder for support, giggled. “Now, Miss Ellie, if you ever get tired of your Mr. Brett, you just send him over to us!” When she plopped down in her seat again, the doves cackled loudly.

  Thomas patted Brett on the shoulder. “You’ll have to get used to this, I’m afraid.”

  Brett produced a lop-sided grin. “I suppose I can handle it.” He leaned back slightly. “How do you know the Dolan sisters, by the way?”

  Sighing, Thomas said, “It a long story that goes way back.”

  “Oh?”

  “I knew Cora and Minnie before the war, but I had to go fight.”

  There was a slight pause before Brett spoke. “My father fought in the war. For the South.”

  “I fought for the North, but none of that matters now, does it?”

  “No, I guess not.” Brett paused. “Killing is killing.”

  “It sure is.” Thomas’ voice sounded as if he were far away at another place and time.

  “You know, I was a real good shot growing up,” Brett admitted. “My pa taught me how to do that along with how to treat horses. Why, I could take out a rabbit at a hundred yards. But the first time I saw someone killed, it wasn’t so pretty. My pa was killed in the war,” he finished.

  “Sorry to hear that. No, killing sure isn’t pretty. In fact, it’s enough to make you gun-shy.”

  The two men fell silent as the chatter around them climbed up another rung.

  Without warning, Pete rose, his glass high above his head. “Here’s to Ellie, for bringing literature to our fair town,” he sputtered.

  “Here, here!” the crowd cheered.

  “Miss Ellie, may your life be as full as your…” Marlena began.

  “Marlena!” Rosie cried, slapping her hand over her friend’s mouth. “Don’t even say it!”

  “May your little boys have fame and fortune. And your girls…” another dove started.

  Everyone waited.

  “…have big titties!”

  “Dear lord!” Ellie muttered, looking up at her fiancée shaking his head, his mouth definitely curling upward. “Welcome to my family,” she ended, laughing.

  Minnie stood up. “Seriously, folks, before we get too budgy, let’s bend an elbow and make a toast to the happy couple. To Ellie and Brett.” She clapped three times. “Hip-hip hurray! Hip-hip hurray!”

  After the cheering subsided, Brett also stood up, his glass in the air, half empty. “Ladies and gents, Ellie and I would like to make an announcement of our own.”

  All eyes drew a bead on him as Ellie stood up beside him, buoyant.

  “We decided not to calf around. So we’re gettin’ married real soon.”

  “How soon?” Mr. Belmont, the Wayward Hotel manager, called out. Chuckles followed.

  “Two weeks’ time. Come Saturday the twentieth, we’ll be man and wife. You’re all invited, of course!”

  Cora, Minnie, and Pete stared at each other, their eyes popping.

  “What the…” Cora started a
s Ellie leaned down to kiss her.

  “Sorry it’s so last minute, Mama. We just decided this morning. I hope we still have your blessing,” she ended, searching her mother’s face.

  “Yes, you do, Ellie, of course.”

  By the time they returned home, Brett got an extra-long goodnight kiss, and just shy of the house, Thomas pulled Cora into the shadows.

  “Cora,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her. He could feel her body soften as his heartbeat quickened. Then, as if a candle had been snuffed out, she stiffened and stepped back.

  “Oh, Cora, please,” he pleaded.

  “Trust, Thomas. That is what’s stopping me.”

  He heard her exhale; saw her features soften. Hopeful, he tried putting his arm around her waist again.

  “No!” she said, pushing him away. “How can I ever trust you again?”

  Sighing, he shook his head. “Cora, I swear, sometimes I think you’re gonna be the death of me.”

  “I’m gonna be the death of you? Now, that’s rich!”

  He pulled back, his jaw clenched hard.

  “Enough is enough,” he said.

  As she watched him walk off, she noted there were no backward glances, no last minute turning around. So he missed it. He missed her sitting down on the porch swing, missed her one hand covering her mouth, missed her eyes beginning to glisten.

  * *

  While the entire Dolan household was sleeping in the next morning, Wes was up bright and early, itching to go.

  “I’m checkin’ out one of them saloons today,” he mentioned to José over breakfast in the hotel’s dining room.

  José’s eyes grew steely. “Whoah, how’s about you checkin’ out the bank situation first, seein’ as you was the one who ribbed us up to come here to this nothin’ town. ‘This is where we could get some coin,’ you said. Remember?”