The woman’s face turned purple. “What do you mean?”
Dori clenched her hands into fists. “Yesterday Miss Allison said I was fortunate to have escaped the Indian massacres by coming here. I had to set her straight. It’s been years since any California Indians went on the warpath.”
The headmistress made a strangling sound and waved toward the door. “You may go, but if you feel the need to correct an instructor from now on, do it privately and respectfully.”
“I was respectful.” Resentment shot through Dori. “I thought Brookside Finishing School for Young Ladies wanted its students to know the truth, not lies. It says so right in our list of rules. ‘The Bible is the great rule of duty for both teachers and scholars. Truth and virtue, Christian kindness and courtesy will be the governing principle of conduct to all the members of this school.’ Am I wrong? Or don’t the teachers practice what the rule preaches?”
“Go!” Miss Brookings thundered.
Dori flounced out—and received another failing mark in deportment.
Chapter 5
An unexpected holiday offered Dori temporary respite from her troubles. Filled with anticipation instead of dread, she bounded out of bed on the Friday set aside to honor the settling of Boston: September 17, 1880, the city’s 250th birthday celebration.
Dori had written to Matt as little as possible, for fear he would know how miserable she was. How could she tell him her only real friends were the butler and a maid?
“Scraggs doesn’t dare show he likes me for fear of losing his position. Janey works so hard she seldom has time for fun,” Dori lamented. “Well, now at least I’ll have something interesting to write about. It’s too bad Matt can’t be here. He’d like it, I know.” A pang went through her, but she shook off regret and determined to make the most of the holiday.
Dori had never seen such a spectacle. Chaperoned by teachers and forced to remain with the other girls, she stared open-mouthed as 14,500 people marched four and a half miles, amidst a multitude of decorations. The march took three and a half hours. Several of the Brookside young ladies grew tired and went back to the school, but Dori couldn’t bear to miss anything. Fortunately, one of the teachers displayed equal enthusiasm, and Miss Brookings allowed Dori to remain in her charge.
That evening sixteen floats and a thousand torchbearers paraded, illuminating the streets of the city. Dori fell asleep with a happy heart for the first time since she had arrived in Boston. The next day she wrote to Matt and Solita:
I saw Mayor Frederick O. Prince. He had requested citizens to close their stores and places of business in honor of the anniversary. At a gathering at the Old South Meeting House, he stated, “The sea has been converted into land; the hills have been leveled—the valleys filled up, the sites of the Indian wigwams are now those of the palaces of our merchant princes.” I suppose the van Dykes occupy one of those palaces.
It made me sad for the Indians who once lived here….
By the grace of God and sheer willpower, Dori stayed in school. As time passed, she noticed that her independent attitude was winning grudging respect. Her teachers seldom challenged her. Some of her more daring classmates showed signs of having backbone and standing up to queen bee Gretchen van Dyke. A few tentatively offered friendship. Dori suspected this enraged Miss Brookings, but she also knew Matt continued to send generous contributions to offset his sister’s shenanigans. Why worry? Nothing she did hurt anyone or anything—except her deportment mark.
Dori got a great deal of secret amusement from observing how Gretchen ignored her. Gretchen and her hangers-on swept by the “Spanish senorita” as if Dori didn’t exist. But after she bested Gretchen for still another marking period, Gretchen accosted her in the upper hall, backed up by Harriet and a few other girls.
“I’ve had as much as I am going to take from you, Dolores Sterling,” she spat out. Her pale eyebrows arched over her washed-out blue eyes until she resembled an angry cat with its back up. “You think you’re so smart. Well, you aren’t. The only way you could ever get better marks than I is by cheating.”
The unfair accusation left Dori speechless, but only for a moment. Rage started at her toes and engulfed her body. She clenched her fists and took a menacing step closer to her accuser. “I have never cheated in my whole life, Miss van Dyke. I don’t have to cheat to be first in my studies with you as competition.” She stopped for breath then added, “Stop your whining.”
Gretchen fell back, face paper white. “Miss Brookings will hear about your impertinence.”
“I’m sure she will.” Dori spun on one heel, pushed open the door to her room, and whirled back toward the group of cowering young ladies. “Just be sure when you run bleating to Miss Brookings that you tell her who started this. If you don’t, I will.” She shriveled the other girls with a lightning glance. “There must be a least one person here who won’t lie for you.” She entered her room and slammed the door behind her.
To Dori’s amazement, Miss Brookings said nothing about the confrontation. Had Gretchen’s followers convinced her it wouldn’t be wise to report it? Perhaps. But the ill-concealed enmity in Gretchen’s face showed she was lying in wait like a cougar stalking a fawn, ready to strike when the opportunity arose.
In late November, Dori made the hardest decision of her life, so startling she felt it necessary to justify it to Matt, to herself, and to God.
“If I go home for the holidays or for summer vacations, I will never come back. I won’t be able to tear myself away from home,” she told the Lord. “The only way to finish what I started is to stay put.”
She agonized over what to say in her letter, but finally settled on writing:
Once I return home, I won’t be back, so I should see everything I can while I’m here. There will be other girls staying as well. Scraggs says it isn’t so bad.
The teachers who remain during school breaks get up excursions for those of us who don’t go home. Not just in Boston, but to other cities, as well— perhaps Philadelphia or New York. Maybe even to Washington. I know you will be disappointed. So am I, but the best thing is for me to stay.
Love to everyone,
Dori
Dori was forced to copy her letter three times. If Matt saw a tear-splotched edition, he would order her home posthaste.
Dori remained adamant in her decision, in spite of Matt’s continued protests. She dug in her heels and made it through two seemingly endless years, hating the freezing winters and longing for Madera’s mild climate.
Propped up in bed one late fall day in 1882, she mused, “I can last one more school year. After spring term, I’ll leave Boston to Miss Brookings and the van Dykes and their ilk.” A familiar feeling of jealousy that had been nagging her for months dimmed her expectations for going home. Dori sighed. “I don’t feel I’ve changed, but things won’t be the same on the Diamond S.”
She punched her pillows into a more comfortable position. “It’s bad enough that for the past two years Matt’s letters have been filled with praise for that…that Seth Anderson. Matt acts like the dumb cowhand is a long-lost brother and not simply hired help.” She blew out a breath. “I suppose it’s because Matt saved his life.” Dori slid out of bed and crossed to the window. “Worse, now Matt’s crazy about Seth’s sister. According to his letters, Sarah is one in a million and ‘a paragon of virtue.’ ”
Dori viciously dug the toe of her slipper into the carpet. “I want Matt to myself when I get home, not dancing attendance on some girl who sounds too good to be true.” She raised her gaze to the ceiling. “Of course I’m sorry for what Sarah’s stepfather put her through, God, but what if she’s after Matt because he owns the largest spread in the valley? What if she breaks his heart the way Lydia Hensley did?”
Dori chilled. Had she made a terrible mistake by staying in Boston so long? Had Matt turned to the Andersons for the companionship he and Dori used to share?
She knelt beside the window and bowed her head. “I need to know
what to do, God. Should I chuck school and go home?” The idea caught fire until she was ready to pack her clothes and take the first train west. “Lord, if I were home, I could halt any schemes Seth and Sarah Anderson may have to worm themselves into Matt’s life and the Diamond S.”
Chapter 6
Late fall, 1882
San Joaquin Valley
Seth Anderson stamped into the living room of the Diamond S ranch house. “Here’s the mail, Boss. Curly just got back from Madera.” He tossed the bundle to Matt, who was sprawled in a comfortable chair, staring at Seth’s sister, Sarah. Light from the blazing logs in the fireplace turned her hair to glistening gold and brought the colors of the gorgeous Mexican wall tapestries alive.
Seth hunkered down in front of the huge rock fireplace and grinned. Looks like one of these days I’m gonna have me a brother-in-law. He glanced at their beloved housekeeper, who gave him a knowing smile. I bet Solita thinks the same thing.
“Thanks, Seth.” Matt riffled through the mail and looked disappointed. “Nothing from Dori.” He frowned. “Another letter from the Brookside headmistress though. Wonder what my dear sister has been up to this time? And how much it’s going to cost me to keep her in school.”
Seth set his lips in a straight line and fought the irritation any mention of Dolores Sterling always generated. The girl had left for some high-falutin’ school back east two years earlier—shortly before Matt saved Seth’s life and brought him to the ranch. In Seth’s opinion, Matt’s sister was a spoiled brat and one of the few things that kept life on the Diamond S from being near perfect.
He sent a fleeting look at the large picture that adorned the mantel of the hacienda-style ranch house. How could such an innocent-looking girl be so devilish and cause a grand fellow like Matt endless trouble?
Seth’s heart swelled with indignation. Dori seldom wrote and refused to come home from her precious school for vacations and holidays. Yet the picture of the feminine replica of dark-haired Matt held a certain fascination. “Sure not like what happened with Matt and Sarah,” Seth muttered under cover of poking the fireplace logs until they crackled and blazed.
His annoyance vanished. He had “innocently” supplied Matt and Sarah photographs of each other in a clumsy attempt at matchmaking. The photographs had done their work well. Attraction sprang up between his sister and his boss before they ever met. Seth grinned. The chance of him doing likewise and falling in love with Dori’s picture was the most ridiculous thing he could imagine.
Matt slapped his leg and howled with mirth.
It stopped Seth’s woolgathering. “What’s so funny?”
“Dori.” Matt whooped again. “She’s done it this time. I know I should be furious, but it’s just too—” He broke into gales of laughter. “Listen to this.” He wiped away tears and began to read. “ ‘Dear Mr. Sterling, it gives me no pleasure to be the bearer of bad news yet again, but something must be done about your sister. I realize how important it is to you for Dolores to remain at Brookside, and I have bent over backward to accommodate you.’ ” Matt stopped reading and snorted. “Hogwash. Any bending over backward is because of my money.”
Seth silently agreed but kept his own counsel. He didn’t dare look at Sarah for fear she’d discern what he was thinking. She’d warned Seth never to let Matt know how he felt about Dolores. “In many ways,” she reminded him on many occasions, “Matt looks at you as a replacement for his dead brother, Robbie. He would be heartbroken to know your feelings about his sister are less than charitable.”
Seth ducked his head and stared at the floor, torn between loyalty to his boss and the unholy desire to give Dori Sterling the tongue-lashing he felt she richly deserved.
“Go on, Senor Mateo,” Solita urged, hands clasped tightly.
“ ‘Mr. Sterling, I regret to inform you that Dolores’s recent behavior is unacceptable and brings dishonor to the name of my fine establishment. It pains me to relate such an unseemly matter, but I feel I must. One of my young ladies, Gretchen van Dyke, has shown true Christian charity regarding the change of rooms. Your sister, however, continues to spitefully plague and belittle dear Gretchen and undermine her leadership among the other girls.’ ”
Seth chuckled. The headmistress sounded like someone out of a dime novel, with her fine airs and pompous “regrets” about criticizing Dori. It looked to Seth like Dori and Gretchen were cut from the same cloth and deserved each other. But he kept his opinion to himself.
Matt raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I’ll eat my Stetson if Gretchen van Dyke ever showed Christian charity, especially to Dori.” He continued reading. “ ‘I have been patient, but your sister’s latest indignity toward Gretchen cannot be brushed aside. Dear Gretchen found a little black cat mewing outside in the rain. Too kind to leave it there, she begged to be allowed to keep it, even though pets are normally forbidden. I didn’t have the heart to say no, so I reluctantly agreed. I also explained to the other girls that kindness to animals is akin to biblical teachings about treating with compassion those less fortunate.’
“ ‘Dolores had the audacity to remind me of my reprimand when she fed a stray dog, which of course, is not the same thing at all.’ ”
Seth felt an unexpected twinge of pity for Dori. It didn’t lessen his annoyance with her for treating Matt shabbily, but anyone who fed a stray dog couldn’t be all bad. “What a hypocrite Miss Brookings is,” he burst out. “No wonder Dori plays tricks.”
“She certainly did this time. It looks like Dori sneaked into ‘dear Gretchen’s’ room, swiped the cat, and”—Matt chortled—“wait till you hear what happened next: ‘Several of the girls and teachers were gathered in the drawing room for a musicale. Gretchen was at the piano. The door opened. A ghastly-looking beast darted in, closely followed by Dolores.’
“ ‘Some of the girls screamed. Then your sister said, “What is that?” She pointed to the creature, and a look of horror crossed her face. She frightened everyone with her next words. “Oh Miss Brookings, I do hope it isn’t a hydrophobic skunk. We have them out west. Sometimes skunks go mad. If they bite people, the people also go mad…and die.” ’ ”
This was too much for Seth. He rolled on the floor and cackled. Blessed with a vivid imagination, he could picture the scene: Miss Brookings, an assembly of people, and an unrepentant Dori. The others joined in, but at last Matt controlled himself and went on. “ ‘Dear Gretchen swooned, striking her head on the piano. The other girls leaped onto the furniture.’
“ ‘Fortunately, Scraggs heard the commotion and came to the rescue. He bravely picked up the beast and discovered it was dear Gretchen’s cat. Someone had painted a white stripe down its back. All evidence pointed to Dolores as the instigator of this cruel deception.’
“ ‘She confessed immediately and showed not the slightest remorse for her actions. Needless to say, Dolores is confined to her room except for meals and classes.’ ”
Matt tossed the letter into the fire. “What does Miss Brookings expect me to do about this?” He sighed. “I suppose another bank draft will help the woman simmer down. It always does.” He looked shamefaced. “I can’t wait to tell the hands—and Brett, too. My foreman is as guilty of spoiling Dori as I am, and this is too good to keep to ourselves. They’ll all get a chuckle over it.”
Solita leaned forward, face earnest. “It is like Senorita Dolores to play tricks, especially on those who are unkind to her.”
“If you remember, she wanted to go,” Matt said. “Nothing is keeping her there.”
Solita shook her head. “Her pride, Senor Mateo.”
“Maybe I should relieve Miss Brookings of her burden and bring Dori home.”
“No!”
Seth couldn’t believe he’d blurted it out. What business was it of his what the boss did with his rebellious sister?
Before he could answer, Sarah spoke for the first time. “I agree with Seth. Evidently Dori has determined to finish her course. She must be allowed to do so.”
&
nbsp; Solita nodded. “Sí. This year will pass, and Dolores will come home to our casa.” Her deep brown eyes glistened. “We shall laugh and sing and give thanks to Dios.”
The depths of love reflected in Solita’s face stirred Seth. Why couldn’t Dori see what she was doing to those who loved her? She was eighteen now, the same age Sarah had been when she fled St. Louis to avoid being sold in marriage to a riverboat gambler. Far too old to be playing childish tricks.
The girls were so different. Both had spunk, but Sarah’s faith in God kept her in check. Everything Seth knew about Dori indicated she was a raging, out-of-control river. According to the hands, she ruled the ranch with a rod of charm.
She won’t rule me. I’ll keep as far away from her as possible, Seth decided. He sobered. Once the bothersome girl came home, nothing on the Diamond S would ever be the same.
Chapter 7
Three thousand miles from Madera, trouble blew in from across the Atlantic. It started when the Babbling Brook, more atwitter than usual, announced, “I have the most wonderful news.” For once color tinted her pale face, and a sparkle glimmered in her eyes. “Stancel Worthing-ton III is coming to Brookside from London. Dear Stancel is my very own nephew, but he has always been more like my son. He will teach dancing.”
A pleased smile crept over her face at the murmur of interest among the girls. It broadened when Gretchen van Dyke trilled, “Oh Miss Brookings, how exciting!”
Dori’s lip curled. How could anyone get excited over one of the Babbling Brook’s relatives, especially one named Stancel Worthington III? Wonder if anyone ever calls him Mr. Third, she thought. He is probably as stuffy as his name.
Stuffy didn’t begin to describe the new dancing master. The day he arrived, Dori had just checked the upper hall to make sure she was alone, then taken a glorious slide down the banister rail. She crashed into Stancel at full speed. If the huge front doors had been open, she would have knocked him out of them.
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