The Dolan Girls

by S. R. Mallery

  “Speak for yourself, Annie, speak for yourself,” Bill said, his face reddening with each new drink.

  “Oh, dear, here we go again,” Annie mumbled.

  “Why, I’ve fought Indians, for Pete’s sake. Today was nothing!” He leaned in toward Cora. “Mrs. Dolan, do you know how many scalps I’ve taken?”

  Cora stared at him. “Well, according to those novels about you…”

  “Damn those dime novels! No, I got me at least…”

  “Excuse me, Bill. Perhaps now’s the time to take some photographs,” Annie interjected. Cora noticed her jaw was slightly clenched.

  Bill paused, his glass mid-air, and nodded. “Yes, yes, you’re correct. Bradford?”

  Bradford and Minnie were head to head, laughing.

  “I say, Bradford.” Bill raised his voice. “Can you take some pictures right now before everyone gets too roostered up?”

  Bradford, still chuckling, nodded reluctantly, and stood up to retrieve his equipment. “Of course, Bill, whatever you say.”

  Cora leaned in toward Annie. “Is he always so likkered up?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “But he’s so famous. A legend in his own time.”

  “He’s also a man, isn’t he?” the markswoman said, shrugging.

  Cora sighed. “Yes, I know all about men who disappoint. Men who love you then never come back.”

  She could feel Annie’s eyes studying her.

  “So sorry, Cora,” the shooter said softly, as she placed her hand over the madam’s. “But you mustn’t…”

  A buzz of excitement overtook the room as Bradford returned, his fascinating, wooden camera obscura, dry plates, and tripod ready to go. “Which grouping should go first?”

  “How about one of me and Cora?” Annie said, standing up and pulling Cora up after her.

  Cora couldn’t stop grinning. Was this truly happening to her? If she pinched herself would all of this go away? As Annie hooked arms, Cora forced herself not to cry.

  “You know, I grew up reading all about you all. Read so many dime novels. They were my great escape, my treasures.”

  Annie smiled and pulled her in close. “Oh, Cora, you are a dear. Now, smile for the cameras.”

  Bradford came over, positioned the camera facing the two women, and behind a curtain directed, “Now, on the count of three…One-two-three!” He clicked, producing a bright flash, followed by a white-ash chemical smell.

  “Next, Bill?”

  “Why, one of me with the same gal!” he answered, his voice beginning to slur. He got up and put his arm around an uncomfortable Cora.

  “Ready, little lady?” he asked, his grin lopsided, his alcohol breath overpowering.

  Suddenly, Cora felt a chill. Wes. No, mustn’t think about him now. Still, she inched away slightly from Buffalo Bill’s drunken hold.

  “Ready, Bradford?” Another click and flash, then one of the doves called out, “How ‘bout just the Dolan girls?”

  “The Dolan girls! The Dolan girls!” several more of the doves chanted, accompanied by lots of male whistles.

  To a background of “Ain’t they the best?” and “Dolan, Dolan, Dolan!” Cora motioned Minnie and Ellie over to her. Together, the three ladies locked arms and stood shoulder-to-shoulder as Bradford clicked and flashed several times.

  When they finished, Ellie pulled Minnie aside.

  “Look at Mama. Just look at her. Now, if only she could be this relaxed and happy all the time. Why does she have to be so …”

  “Nervous? Crabby?” Minnie sighed. “She wasn’t always like this, Ellie. Years ago before you were born, she was wonderful. Maybe someday things will be different. Who knows?”

  Cora came over. “Who knows what?”

  “Hey, look. They’re taking more pictures,” Minnie said, and turned toward Bradford next to his camera, fiddling with his lens.

  Other group photos followed, and then the serious drinking began. Seeing the men gulp down one shot after another, Cora decided it was time to retire. Turning to Annie, she thanked her profusely as Brett quietly whispered something in Minnie’s ear.

  “Oh, Annie, thank you so much for having me sit with you and Mr. Cody.”

  The ‘Best Little Shot in the West’ smiled at her seatmate.

  “You should really thank Brett, Cora. He was the one who insisted that you and your entourage be invited here tonight, and what’s more, he asked that you be seated between Bill and me.”

  “He did?”

  She paused. A cowboy. Her daughter was going to end up with a cowboy, even if he quoted Shakespeare. And after all she had done to protect her. After feeling relieved to see the town ladies accept Ellie so readily. Still, he did go to a lot of trouble. Perhaps he might be worthy. Time will tell.

  She turned toward Brett’s end of the table to smile at him, but he was nowhere to be seen. Nor was Ellie. Where in the world could they have gone?

  Minnie appeared on Bradford’s arm.

  “I saw you looking for them. Let the girl be escorted home by a good man, Cora. Heaven knows, they’re hard to come by. Besides, a little fun won’t hurt her, you know.” Her older sister’s face flushed, as she turned to the photographer and stretched out her hand.

  “Grand to see you again, Mr. Jones.”

  “Good to see you, Miss Dolan, Mrs. Dolan,” he answered with a tiny bow, but before he turned away, Cora thought she caught a fast wink aimed at Minnie. What is going on around here?

  By the time the madams returned to the Omaha Grand, the lobby was almost empty and their adjoining rooms well-lit by a gloriously full moon.

  “Well, goodnight, Cora. Sweet dreams,” Minnie said, before closing their joint door.

  Cora lay on her bed, still dressed. As soft and luxurious as it was, it felt so empty without Minnie or without someone else beside her. She closed her eyes, the events of the day spinning around in her mind. Eyes still shut, she smiled at the thought of Annie, then frowned at the great Buffalo Bill, her all-time hero, being a little more human than she cared for.

  She glanced over toward the glow filtering into the room, and again, thought about how bright the moon was that night. Was it the moon that was making her feel so crazy raced through her brain as she slowly moved over to the window and parted the curtains. She remembered how Thomas and she always loved to watch the moon. How wonderful it was staring up at the iridescent globe together, his arms around her, his warm breath on her neck.

  Suddenly, her attention was drawn downward toward the street, down toward something happening in the not-so-dark shadows.

  * *

  “It’s beautiful tonight. Let’s walk back, shall we?” Brett suggested two hours earlier, offering his arm.

  “What about Mama?”

  He smiled. “I told your aunt about us returning to the hotel separately, and she seemed fine with that.”

  “So you didn’t tell my mother?” She looked up and grinned.

  As they strolled, her arm through his, the full moon was illuminating everything in its path: streets, boardwalks, buildings, and hitching posts. And although Brett had mentioned that the street lamps almost seemed redundant, Ellie exclaimed, “The lamps made it seem like we’re strolling through the streets of a Dickens’ novel.”

  Under the night’s shiny orb, they talked. She told him all about her school experience back east, the patronizing air of the headmasters who always scoffed at her, and the singular non-acceptance of her ‘Wild West’ heritage by teachers and classmates alike. He talked about how his father’s loud, angry drinking had made him corrupt of heart, but at the same time, by owning horses, he had given his young son, Brett, some beauty in the world. When she mentioned how neglected she had felt being sent away from South Benton, his arm gripped her a little tighter. When he told her that as a child he was considered to be a good shot, but because he saw the devastation that guns had caused during the war, he refused to carry one, she nodded and blinked back tears.

  Directly ac
ross from the Omaha Grand, he took her hand and pulled her into the shadows.

  “Ellie,” he hummed. Several inches apart, he drew a deep breath, exhaled, and paused.

  “Brett, I imagine you’ve been with many girls before, but you have to understand, I’m well, I’m not experienced.”

  He shook his head. “It’s true I’ve done some larkin’ around, but not as much as you think.”

  “No? But you’re so sure of yourself.”

  Even in the shadows, she could sense his smile. “Thank you kindly, Miss Dolan. Truth is I could’ve been with more women, but…” He turned serious. “Frankly, I’ve always wanted to be with just one girl, someone special.”

  “Am I special?” She gulped, looking straight up at him.

  “Yes, you most definitely are,” he said, slowly gathering her in his arms. He could feel her heart fluttering through her chest and when he pressed in to kiss her on her neck, she let out a tiny moan.

  Fused together, he sensed her lips rotating around toward his by the feel of their warmth and softness on his face and chin. All along, he made sure his embrace was considerate, non-commanding as he allowed her to guide her lips on her own terms, not his. When she finally placed her lips fully on his, it reminded him of tasting something new and how important that first bite was, so he held back a little, out of respect, and to also savor the moment. But surprisingly, when she pushed her lips fully on his without any reserve, he gave out a deep groan.

  A little voice in his head kept warning him to pull in the reins, to restrain himself, but her responsiveness was something he hadn’t bargained on, and soon, all reason was tossed out the window. Kissing her deeply, he stroked her back, waist, and pressed his lower body into hers, trying hard not to envision what lay just beneath her bodice. When she stroked him back, he came close to a growl.

  Overwhelmed by sensations, it took the clack of carriage wheels and a horse’s loud snort to suddenly jar them apart. “Oh my,” Ellie whispered, looking as if she were still in a daze.

  Brett grunted, stood back, and caught his breath. That was too close, he thought to himself as he searched Ellie’s eyes, oblivious of the second story window in the Omaha Grand. And Cora standing there, watching them.

  * *

  How dare Ellie act so common. Why, she was just like one of the doves! Fuming, Cora burst into her sister’s bedroom to share her outrage. Shoving the door open, prepared to unleash a torrent of rightful indignation, she suddenly stopped short, frozen.

  Intertwined in a tumble of naked arms, legs, chest, breasts, and buttocks, Minnie and Bradford jerked their heads apart from their embrace. After a couple of stunned beats, Minnie burst out laughing.

  “Minnie!” Cora croaked, staring down at the floor and backing up into her room. “Could I speak to you a moment?” she said from the doorway.

  “What the hell, Cora?” Minnie screeched when she entered Cora’s room, a sheet wrapped around her like a toga.

  “What are you doing?” Cora demanded. “This is not setting a good example for Ellie is all I’ve got to say.”

  “Cora, Cora. Ellie’s doing just fine on her own, thank you very much. Now, if you don’t mind, please leave me be.” She started to turn around, but at the last second grabbed her sister’s arm and looked directly into her eyes. “Frankly, it wouldn’t hurt you to get some, missy. And for your information, Thomas ain’t never coming back, so stop pining for him!” She banged the door behind her.

  Within seconds, Cora could hear Bradford’s chortles and snorts matching those of her sister.

  * *

  Cora had seen enough. A whirlwind of emotions rushing through her, she checked her hair in the mirror, then quietly stepped downstairs to the lobby, where a new clerk was on duty. Friendly, smiling, he was the antithesis of their earlier experience.

  “May I help you, ma’am?” he asked politely.

  Cora cleared her throat. “Yes, I realize it’s very late, but I was wondering if the restaurant was still open for a glass of sherry?”

  “Yes, of course. There are still a few customers in there. Please, do go in.” He smiled sweetly, which calmed Cora down. Must tip him handsomely, she thought as she left.

  The restaurant was small, elegant, and practically empty except for three tables off to one side.

  Within seconds, a waiter approached. “Please do sit down, madam. What can I get for you?” he asked, his eyes tired and half closed, his hair slightly ruffled from too long a shift.

  “A sherry, please.”

  Settling in, she looked around her. The table to her right held four gentlemen deep in conversation; to her left, an elderly couple sat, and beyond that, Nate Salisbury, who saw her and instantly broke into a smile.

  “Why, Mrs. Dolan! What a pleasant surprise,” he called out. “May I join you?”

  She was certainly in no mood for company, least of all Mr. Salsbury, the nonstop showman, but she sighed and nodded. Maybe Minnie was right, and she needed to turn over a new leaf toward men.

  Time to just move on.

  Salsbury sat down and immediately began a long monologue about the show, and how he was going to turn the already famous Buffalo Bill into an even more famous personality, and how the world was going to be their oyster. Perhaps they would even go to England and perform in front of her majesty, Queen Victoria!

  No longer listening to him pontificate, Cora leaned back and started eavesdropping on the men talking at the table next to her. With Salsbury droning on in the background, she quickly became engrossed in their conversation, particularly when one of them remarked, “They say the Soltano Gang from Wyoming is the worst of the lot and monstrous proud of it.”

  “Yup, I heard that too,” said another, puffing on a cigar. I’ve also heard lots of them other Wyoming outlaws and riffraff are comin’ over to Nebraska. Omaha first, then some of them smaller towns.”

  “Yeah!” The first man inserted. “Why, I bet in no time at all, most of Nebraska will be in hot water. Hell, the streets won’t be safe for anyone!” He downed a shot glass full of whiskey, poured himself another, and raised it up as a salute. “Gentlemen, it’s time for us to clear out ‘n head back east!”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Shifting Winds

  A slow, undulating breeze ruffled the prairie grassland as the Baltimore & Ohio chugged on toward Cheyenne. High up on a distant ridge, the Soltano gang sat back on their horses and carefully surveyed the scene before starting their drill. Composed of two Mexican-born brothers, seven cohorts, and a new member named Clyde, each man inspected his Winchester rifle or Smith & Wesson, readied his bandanna, and roll-clicked a fast command to his horse before heading downhill toward the Pullman.

  On the train, the passengers had been lulled into an exhausted stupor. After days of rhythmic jiggling and wheel clanking, they were looking forward to their final destination in Wyoming. Families, businessmen, and immigrants jostled silently in their seats, while thick dark clouds of smoke blasted past the soot-stained windows.

  Down on the plains, the ten-member Soltano gang stretched out in a line, galloping furiously, their torsos bent forward over their saddles, their linen dusters flapping feverishly against the wind.

  The train engineer had delivered careful instructions to his fireman, conductor, and brakeman earlier that morning. “Be on high alert today. We’ve got a safe overloaded with payroll, and we’ll be entering Wyoming soon. That’s not a good combination.” Seeing the nervous faces in front of him, he added, “But there’ll be a Pinkerton agent riding in the baggage car to protect the money, so there’s no cause for alarm. Just be watchful.”

  The conductor nodded slowly and promised vigilance, but by noon, his predilection for liquor had gotten the better of him. Swaying slightly from side to side, he teetered through each passenger car holding onto seat backs and barely registering the outside world.

  As they neared the train, the robbers slowed down long enough to position their bandannas up on their faces and secure their
six-shooters. Four of them galloped next to the railroad tracks and stayed in tandem with the last car, four on each side. Two men covered the rear as designated horse wranglers.

  The leader, José Soltano, still galloping, rode on ahead and hoisted himself up onto the moving baggage car as his horse dropped away and moved on, riderless. On the other side of the car, his brother Guillermo did the same. Soon, eight of them were onboard with bandanna-covered faces, empty burlap bags, and handguns cocked, ready to go.

  Unsuspecting, the drunk conductor had managed to make it up to the baggage car, where he heartily assured the engineer and Pinkerton that all was well, with nothing to fear.

  In the caboose, the third-class passenger Renata had plenty to worry about. Startled awake by an odd, rhythmic pounding on the roof, she glanced out of the window and saw two men galloping beside the train, their faces half covered by bandannas, their dusters fluttering. Instinctively, she gasped in horror.

  Just then a masked man entered their car. “This is a holdup. Don’t be a pack of fools––gist give us what we come fer,” he barked.

  Another man followed him in, bellowing, “Git out your money and your jewelry. Now!”

  Renata turned to her seat companions. What were these men saying? Across the aisle, several passengers had the same blank expressions, mixed with fear.

  “These folks don’t understand nothin’!” the first robber snarled. Charging over to one of the immigrants, he pulled him up, reached into his pockets and produced a few coins. He shoved him down again and roared, “Hell, they ain’t worth nothin’! Let’s move on to the other cars.”

  The next car was much better. Men were frantically taking out their billfolds or coin purses and handing over any cash they could muster, while chained watches, earrings, necklaces, and bracelets were being tossed into burlap bags as children whimpered and babies cried.

  One elegant gentleman sitting near the front of the car looked into the next car and saw a similar scene. Shaking his head, he turned back to the three outlaws in his own car.

  “Don’t you stare at me all wild!” the last of the outlaws to enter the car called out, taking two strides at a time over to the frightened man.