The bowler-hatted businessman threw up his hands. “I didn’t mean any harm. Here, here’s my money and my watch.”
The thief grabbed the watch and cash, and thrusting them into his own pockets, laughed. “Now, that’s better. Let’s get a-move on.”
He turned to open the door but just then, a lady toward the rear, wearing a fancy cornette bonnet, caught his attention. She was holding a small dog and mumbling something to her seat companion. Suddenly, he was standing over her and her stylish hat. Snatching her dog out of her arms, he growled, “Think you’re better than me, huh?”
“Run, Aldo, run!” she screamed as the dog wriggled out of the robber’s arms.
Staring into the bandit’s eyes, she shuddered. So lifeless and cold, they made the hairs on the back of her neck stand upright, but at least her dog had escaped.
For a moment, the robber stood still. Then, without warning, he leaned over, slapped her across the face, then staggered up the aisle toward the yelping dog.
“Leave the damn dog alone!” another robber at the front of the car yelled.
But his partner in crime wasn’t listening. He caught up with the cowering animal and kicked it so hard it flew up into the air and landed on the floor like a sack of potatoes. The entire car gasped.
“A little dog; it was only a little dog,” the woman wailed, as the masked man shook his head and laughed.
Almost strutting, he rubbed his leg once and slowly made his way toward the front of the car, announcing loudly, “Can’t abide no damn dogs!”
“Man, you’re cold, Clyde,” the third bandit muttered, as the three entered the next car as a unit.
Several cars forward in the baggage car, the conductor leaned against the safe and watched the Pinkerton detective smoke his pipe. Still reeling from his morning’s drinking, he couldn’t help but wonder exactly how much money was in their possession, and he was about to ask the detective, when he heard a dull knock against the back end of the car. The agent put down his pipe and slowly stood up.
“Did you hear that?” the conductor asked.
A vigorous nod was his answer, as the Pinkerton tilted his head and held up his right index finger. Several seconds of silence passed before he spoke. “Probably nothing, but just in case, I’ll…”
Both locked doors on either end blasted inward, knocking the conductor and detective off their feet and onto the floor. Instantly, both Soltano brothers were in the car, their six shooters aimed at the stunned men lying in the dust and rubble.
“Damn! That dynamite works!” Guillermo exclaimed.
“Open the safe,” José snarled at the two men. “Or else!”
“Or else what?” the conductor asked, staring up at the masked men, his voice quavering.
“Pinkerton here knows what else, don’t cha?” José smirked as he cocked his gun slowly.
Dazed, the Pinkerton dusted himself off before looking up. “You’ll never get away with this, you know.”
Jamming his Scoffield against the detective’s head, José growled, “Oh yes, we will.” Then he side-swatted him.
Blood flowed out of the Pinkerton’s right nostril, but he didn’t miss a beat. Nonchalantly, he wiped it off with his suit sleeve and sniffed. “You’re out of luck, fellas. I don’t happen to know the combination.”
Guillermo turned to the conductor. “Do you?”
“Oh, God, no!” he cried and immediately vomited.
“Díos mío, this shouldn’t be so hard.” Guillermo quickly withdrew a single stick of dynamite out of his pocket and tied it onto the safe’s lock. He yanked the men up and pushed them to the back of the car, then with a match, lit the fuse, ducked down, and motioned his brother to do the same.
Boom! The safe was on its side, still intact. Staring at each other in bewilderment, the two brothers shook their heads.
“Let me blast it,” Clyde said, stepping into the car. He gripped his scattergun and blew a hole in the safe’s front. Another blast and the door gave way and paper money flew up into the air like confetti.
“I can’t hear anything!” the conductor screamed, as the Pinkerton reached for his new, double action Model 3.
Clyde swiveled around. “Don’t even think about it!” He kicked the gun out of the agent’s hand as the brothers started stuffing mounds of hard cash into their burlap bags.
Suddenly the sweaty, soot-coated brakeman appeared. “What the hell?” he said before Clyde aimed and shot. Slammed high up against the back wall, the brakeman’s lifeless body slid down to the floor.
“That weren’t necessary!” Guillermo snarled at the new outlaw, leaning over the dead brakeman as José stepped out onto the car’s platform and motioned the other two to follow him.
Outside the baggage car, their partners were howling like coyotes as soon as they saw José’s overstuffed burlap bag. The two wranglers led the other horses in close and after the bandits leapt off the still trundling train, they all charged off into the rocky Wyoming hills.
Later that night, Guillermo pulled José aside. “I’m thinkin’ maybe we need to get rid of Clyde. He’s always the first rattle out of the box. I swear, he ain’t right in the head.”
José shrugged. “Maybe so, but he got us our money today, now didn’t he?”
“I s’pose. Just don’t trust him, is all.”
CHAPTER NINE
All Manner of Changes
Word usually traveled fast in small towns, but in South Benton it traveled at lightning speed. Inside of two days, everyone and his brother was talking about Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show and how successful it was. They also lamented over the fact that it was leaving Omaha soon and traveling to larger, even more profitable cities.
The doves broke the news to Ellie one evening as she was in the hall, en route to her room.
“Hey, Miss Ellie. You better hold onto your fella any way you can,” Rosie advised, by-passing a drunken customer and stepping in front of the schoolmarm.
Ellie’s pupils grew large. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I hear the show is gonna end sooner than we all thought, and that means your handsome Mr. Horse Man will be off to goodness knows where.”
“Or who with!” Marlena giggled, then stopped when she caught sight of the shock on Ellie’s face.
“He did tell you, right?” Rosie asked. “If he didn’t, he’s a scalawag!”
“Yes, of course he told me. Everything’s fine.” Ellie looked down at the papers tucked under her arm. “I never expected anything. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got some school papers to correct.”
Marlena and Rosie exchanged worried looks. “Good night, Miss Ellie,” they chorused and started to walk back to the parlor, not looking back at Ellie, pressed up against the wall, one hand on her mouth, listening to their exchange.
“She’s kiddin’ herself. She’s got it bad!” Rosie said.
“She sure does. Poor girl…”
Inside her bedroom, Ellie could barely move. Finally, willing herself to sit down at her desk, she put her students’ papers onto her roll-top desk, lit her brass lamp, and pulled both a quill pen and an ink bottle out of one of the top drawers. Carefully reading the first paper, she edited each student’s mistakes before marking a grade on the top right-hand corner. The second and third papers got the same treatment. By the fourth paper, her tears had turned each edit mark into more of a water-colored blur than an inked correction. What was she going to do? He came into her life, and now he was leaving. Just like that? She dropped her pen and sobbed.
The next morning, Ellie woke, determined to talk to Brett. Midweek meant he would most likely be back at the stables, either training or taking care of a show horse. The imminent rain had turned the night air chilly and the horses reflected that, with their snorting and pawing. They looked over nervously at Ellie as she passed by them on her way to the tackle room.
Adjusting bridles and polishing saddles, Brett seemed to be moving at half speed when Ellie walked in. When he looked up a
nd saw her, he gave out a huge sigh. “Ellie,” he said.
“Is it true? Are you leaving so soon?”
“It seems it was always true. I just didn’t know it.” He looked away.
She came over to him. “Brett.” Her tears were welling up again.
“Oh, Ellie, that’s what I do, what the show does. If I could, I would stay.” He choked out the last word.
“I know…I just thought…oh, I don’t know what I thought,” she murmured, laying her hand on his arm.
“Please don’t make this any harder.” He groaned and took her into his arms.
“I’ve never felt like this before,” she cried against his chest, her tears dotting his shirt.
His breath was shaky as he held her, and when she broke his hold and turned to go, he blinked back his own tears. “Ellie, if I had my way,” he muttered, but she was already heading for the door. At the last minute, she swiveled around, just in time to see him sitting on a bale of hay, his head in his hands.
“Oh, Brett …” she choked as she stumbled outside.
Dashing home, she could feel the rain coming down in earnest. Felt the heavy droplets mix in with her tears, as her saturated bodice stayed glued to her torso, and her drenched skirt became heavy enough to make her grunt as she ran. By the time she reached Madam Ana’s front porch, she had to hold on to one of the posts, her sobs were so intense. With all her heart, she wished she had never met him.
Finally Minnie came out to pull her in, and guiding her gently into the kitchen, sat her down and handed her a handkerchief.
“Ellie, it’s all right. He was your first love. It hurts, I know, it hurts.”
The schoolmarm blew her nose and looked up. “Minnie, did this ever happen to you?”
“Hell no! Too scared. Knew I’d never git over it if I let someone come that close,” she said. “But it sure happened with your mama and many another gal. Happened to our da, and that’s why he could never git over our mam’s death. In fact…”
“In fact, that’s what they all do,” Cora interjected from the doorway, her face red, her hands clenched.
Ellie both looked up at her questioningly. “What, Mama?”
“Leave you, they all leave you!”
“Thanks, Mama, that’s helpful!” Ellie said.
“Well, maybe it is helpful. Maybe, just maybe, I’m looking out for you!” she snapped, slamming the door behind her.
An hour later, Cora quietly climbed into their bed, so as not to disturb her sleeping sister. Thinking about life and romance, it took her a while to get comfortable. Poor Ellie, she thought finally, and closing her eyes, turned her tear-stained face up toward the moon.
* *
Two days later, they were visited by the local sheriff, claiming he had received a letter from the Cheyenne Pinkerton office, with a letter that pertained to them.
“What in the world?” Minnie asked.
Using Madam Ana’s cherished sterling opener, Cora knifed it open and read it aloud.
Dear Sheriff Whitman,
It has recently come to our attention that various unsavory characters may soon be traveling to the state of Nebraska. As your town owns and operates establishments such as Madam Ana’s, which might attract such persons, we have taken it upon ourselves to assign one of our top agents to your case, in order to help you protect all your citizens and your assets.
Since this agent will be acting as an undercover bookkeeper, we feel it is in your best interest to have Madam Ana’s place an advertisement for said position in your local newspaper, so as not arouse any suspicions.
Our agent shall be arriving by train in two weeks’ time. Meanwhile, please deliver this letter to Madam Ana’s and have them confirm by telegram that they have received this letter as soon as possible.
Cordially yours,
Mr. Mark Latham, Chief Officer
Cheyenne Pinkerton Bureau
Cora turned to Sheriff Whitman. “Why us?”
“Don’t know, Mrs. Cora. Maybe there’ll be more letters comin’ to other places. Now, don’t forget to send a telegram to Chief Officer Latham, hmm?”
“Well, I’ll be,” Minnie said after he had left. “Who do they think we are? A couple of helpless women?”
“I knew something like this might happen,” Cora muttered.
“What do you mean?”
“While you and Ellie were having yourselves a high ole time in Omaha, I was listening to a group of men at the hotel talking about how Wyoming’s riff-raffs were on their way here. They also mentioned something in particular about a Soltano gang.”
“Well, I’ll be.”
“You already said that,” Cora sniped. “We better go about making up an advertisement. You ask Ellie. She’s good with words. Besides, it’ll help distract her.”
“Why don’t you ask her?”
Cora gave her a look. “Meantime, I’ll go around to Corrigan’s to find out if he got any special visits from our sheriff.”
The Whiskey House was first on the list. Friendly rivals, Cora felt a slight kinship with John Corrigan, in spite of his insistence on capitalizing on his Irish ancestry. When she walked in, he was leaning against the bar and listening to a female singer auditioning. A ‘hootchy-kootchy’ type of gal, her voice reminded Cora of the cats in heat outside their bedroom window each spring.
“If it ‘tisn’t the fair lass from County Cork! Top of the mornin’ to ya, Mrs. Cora.”
“Hello, John.”
“And what do I owe this fine honor, hmm?”
“Do come off it, John. We’re in America now.”
His eyes slit. “No need to be sassy, gerrl.”
“Sorry. I was just passing by and thought I’d come in. How’s business? Any trouble? Any sheriff’s visits? ”
“No, no. Nothin’ much at t’all. Why?”
“Oh, just wondering. I must say, your place is looking really grand these days.”
Corrigan studied her for a moment. “Lassie, anything you want to tell your ole pal, Corrigan?”
“No, no, just paying a friendly stop. See you around.”
That night the two Madam Ana’s partners discussed the mysterious letter. “Why us?” Cora kept saying.
“Maybe we’re the ones doin’ the best business in town.”
“I know we’ve been making good profits this year, but that much?”
Minnie bit into a large piece of steak. “Ellie wrote this here advertisement and told me to give it to you.”
Snatching it up, Cora gave it a quick review. “Fine, it’s all fine,” she muttered and continued her dinner in silence, no longer waiting for the schoolmarm who had stayed holed up in her bedroom for the past two nights.
* *
The first interview happened several days later. The instant Cora and Minnie saw who it was tripping over a stone on their front walk, they both burst out laughing. “Oh, no! Not Bill Watts!” Cora said.
Short, portly, Bill Watts had trouble putting one foot in front of the other, much less managing an interview. After taking a seat, he kept licking his lips and playing with the few wisps of hair left on his head.
“Now, Mr. Watts, you understand this is a bookkeeping job, so you do have be good with numbers.”
He gazed at Minnie blankly.
“For instance, what’s seven-hundred fifty dollars minus fifty dollars, times ten?”
Another blank look was followed by a hiccup.
One more attempt at testing him brought the women to their feet. Cora tried not to giggle, and by the look on Minnie’s face, she knew her sister was feeling the same.
“Good day, sir. Best of luck to you,” Cora said, watching him stumble off.
The next appointment was an hour later, and at first, the man seemed competent. But when he pointed out that three of his eight children would be accompanying him to work to “help out the missus,” he was politely shown the door.
After the sixth interview, Minnie threw up her hands. “Lord help us! How many insane
men are in this town?”
Cora chuckled. “All right, all right, we’ll play this game just a little bit longer. But by the end of next week, we’re going to post a sign saying ‘Position Filled.’”
“Amen to that!”
* *
Ellie had designated Fridays as ‘Geography Day.’ Lessons were learned regarding various international countries and their histories, their culture, and their languages. An encyclopedia was passed around and each week, selected students were allowed to point at a large wall map of the world with the teacher’s special one-yard pointer. It was indeed an honor to be chosen for this task. It meant the ‘honoree’ was responsible enough to listen to the different groups summarize what they had learned from books. Then, using this exclusive ruler, the student was to show the class where that particular country lay. It was also understood that being extra well-behaved in class assured students of a faster pathway toward this coveted ‘job.’
Usually on these days, the class was particularly alert and eager to please, and on one particular Friday, there was no exception. Until the big fight broke out.
The two boys, Shaun and Samuel were fast friends, but after years of wrassling, fishing, and playing together, they now had a problem. Both of them were taken with Martha, a golden-haired, freckled-faced girl who, at the tender age of twelve, already knew how to manipulate the male persuasion. She applied this talent magnificently, eating lunch with Samuel one day, allowing Shaun to carry her books as he walked her home the next. At first, being good friends, they relinquished any squatter’s rights and stepped back. But soon new hormones emerged and with them, male competition reared its ugly head.
Trying hard not to think about Brett, Ellie had forced herself to focus on the children that morning, reminding herself that if it was time to ‘move on.’ She had no other choice.
“Miss Dolan! Shaun and Samuel, are in the yard fighting!” a student yelled.
Running outside with her long ruler, Ellie was horrified to see the two boys punching each other with all their might.
“Boys! Boys! Stop this at once!” she cried, trying to pry them apart. Overnight, the boys had changed, and being preoccupied herself, Ellie now realized she must have missed it. No longer companions, with bared teeth and flying fists, they snarled and growled like young men.
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