The Persecution of Mildred Dunlap

by Paulette Mahurin

  7

  On the anniversary of Max Dunlap’s death, three days before the news broke that Oscar Wilde had been convicted, Mildred and Edra, thirty-three and twenty-nine respectively, reflected. Although Max taught Mildred to be self-reliant in matters concerning the ranch and business, her parents never taught her how to express herself emotionally. All she knew about showing emotions she learned through relating with Edra, none of which prepared her for her grief when her father died, a void she felt she’d never recover from.

  “You look so sad, Mildred.”

  “I don’t know I’ll ever get over him not being around anymore.”

  Edra put a hand on Mildred’s shoulder. “Do you want to walk out to their gravesites?”

  “God, I loved that man. He worked so hard to give us this. I never want to tear down what he built.” Mildred looked around the living room of the small dwelling that Max had built himself. She thought beyond its walls to its privacy, backing on a half-mile dirt drive from the main road that was situated on a down slope of a small valley, shielding their home from view. The nearest neighbor was a mile away. The two-bedroom single-story home was surrounded with trees and foliage, and painted white with a high-pitched roof. The south-facing covered porch provided shade during the summer and kept snow out through the winter. Wild lilacs, irises and daffodils planted along it bloomed in the spring.

  “I loved him too. Let’s go for that walk, Mil.” She gently took Mildred’s arm and led her out. The women trod their way, silent in memories, until Edra broke the reverie. “I wonder what he must have felt like when he first came to Red River Pass.”

  “Couldn’t have been easy for him. On his own. But then think of all the suffering others went through journeying out west.” Mildred’s voice cracked.

  A chill went down Edra’s spine. “Max used to love to tell the story of the Donner party…how this place was founded. How could anyone have predicted that?” She reflected back on Max telling them that when the news of the Donner Party broke, routes were diverted for those traveling west in search of fortunes in gold. An area south on the Sierra Nevada seemed an excellent place to camp, where the loons migrate in the spring to feed on the Lahontan cutthroat trout in a large natural lake offering abundant riparian foliage, and where pronghorn antelope and deer thrive. Max was among those who pitched tents by the lake when word got back to them about the glut of comers and the cutthroat activities of the miners further west. Fate had dealt him a hand and Max knew exactly what he would do with it.

  “Of all things to come up now. It’s true, he never left a detail out of that god-awful story.”

  “Oh I’m sorry, Mil. I didn’t mean to. My mind just wandered there.”

  “No, no, it’s okay. There’s something about recalling all the stories. That one he used to love to tell because it influenced his own life and brought him to Walker Lake. If he hadn’t detoured, like the rest of the travelers, out of the fear, he too would have encountered the elements.”

  “I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like. Those poor people anticipated a shortcut, which ended up taking them three weeks longer than if they’d stayed on the California Trail to begin with. Can you imagine that?”

  “That was a bad snowstorm they got trapped in.”

  Edra smiled, “I can just see Max coming upon the Walker River Valley with such a good range, and falling to the ground.”

  “Edra, that’s why he settled here. He had already heard that the weather was hospitable most year-round. But more importantly he knew, when he saw all the meadow grass, that anyone settling here and owning cattle could fatten them for years. He said it was the smartest move of his life. Then he got lucky.”

  Edra questioned, “Lucky?”

  “He never told you about his filing his Preemption Act claim?”

  “I don’t recall he did.”

  Mildred continued, “It provided him a legal and viable means of obtaining land. There was a minimal cost involved to gain title on his original acreage. All he had to do was live on the land for fourteen months and pay a fee. Before long, with the savings he had from doing odd jobs in Ohio, he bought up every available adjacent parcel of land from ranchers who had fallen on hard luck. While other cattle barons had large ranches, they owned only a fraction of the acreage on which their cattle grazed because much of the land was public domain. He told me he felt he was finally making up for his lost and unhappy past growing up in Ohio, where he hated the way his hometown had treated his parents.”

  “You mean what he told us about his brother Ben and Jessie Buckstorm. He thought all the gossip had something to do with his brother’s untimely and mysterious death.”

  “Yes.” Mildred looked off at a few birds flying overhead, and with a saddened tone continued, “I think that’s why he didn’t like attending church.”

  “Your mamma struggled with that. I felt guilty that I…”

  “Don’t Edra. It wasn’t your fault. No one faulted you for not wanting to go to town after…”

  “Hard not to think I might have had something to do with it.”

  “It wasn’t your fault. Neither was your mother’s death.

  “If I wasn’t born, she’d still be alive.” Edra broke down in tears recounting how she had learned about the death of her parents. Four years after Max and Sadie married, Max’s first cousin Terrance Fitzgerald with his wife Bettina made the trek from Ohio to Nevada to settle in with the Dunlaps. Bettina, eight months pregnant at the time and weak from journey sickness, arrived dehydrated and in premature labor. Edra was born with so much difficulty that it took Betinna’s life. Terrance did not recover from the loss of his wife and shortly thereafter took ill and died from pneumonia. The Dunlaps adopted Edra.

  “Hard not to think of all these things now. Let’s talk about something a little happier. Max would have wanted that.” Mildred took hold of Edra’s hand. “Remember how he met mamma?”

  Edra smiled and wiped the tears from her cheeks with the sleeve of her dress. “It was when she came with her parents…her father took a position with his cousin Frank Bell supervising the construction of the transcontinental telegraph lines through Nevada.”

  “Good old Bell money.” Mildred squeezed her grip on Edra’s hand. “Max knew what he wanted.”

  “But they loved each other,” Edra responded.

  “Yes, luckily they did. Mamma was a good woman. But it was pappa who gave us all this.” Mildred gestured at the land surrounding them. At Max’s death, in 1890 at the age of sixty-four, Mildred had inherited all the wealth that Max acquired in his life, including the ranch and several buildings in Red River Pass as well as ownership of its bank, managed by businessmen in Carson City. After her father died she sold off her cattle, kept the ranch house and surrounding acres for her and Edra, divided up the rest of the land into large parcels, and rented them out to cattle ranchers. Not all the tenants were able to pay cash on a monthly basis, leading her to enter into other contract agreements, which was the case with the Whitmores, just over the hill. Part of their rent was covered through sharecropping and cattle. Mildred received both a portion of the proceeds from the sale of their crops and cattle, and the meat of slaughtered steers. When years were slim pickings she received nothing, forgave missed payments, and authorized the bank in town to loan funds to help families see their way through rough winters. To her credit, she was demure about it.

  “I’m grateful for our lives and what he left us, Mil.”

  “Edra Fitzgerald, that’s the first time I ever heard you say ‘what he left us’ and I’m proud of you.”

  “You’ve been saying it to me for years. I always felt it was yours. Not ours. Felt I was lucky enough just to love you and know you’d do right by me.”

  “Why Edra, you sound like you’re accepting that all I have is equally yours. All of this and everything else left to me. None of it would mean anything without you.”

  They quietly reflected back on memories of Max until Edra broke the si
lence. “It’s hard to believe it’s already been five years.”

  Mildred and Edra walked past the pens where they kept the horses, chickens, pigs, a couple of milk-giving cows, and had a vegetable garden. There, beyond the planted patches of carrots, potatoes, celery, parsnips, and other sprouting vegetables, were Max and Sadie’s headstones.

  “He loved his garden. No better place for him to rest.” A solitary tear drifted down Mildred’s cheek.

  As Edra looked at Max’s headstone, she remembered earlier times of him holding her, playing with her, and chasing her through the house from room to room. She remembered when Max had decided to furnish the back part of the house with a double brass bed, a walnut cabinet for hanging clothes, and a chestnut dresser with a marble top and matching mirror. She found spaces behind the furniture to hide when they played hide and seek. She recalled bruises from banging into the pedal sewing machine in the second bedroom that she had shared with Mildred. She loved Sadie’s sterling toilet set and floral china wash pitcher and bowl that sat on the dresser, the pine floors covered with thick wool rugs offering protection from the severest winter cold when the potbellied stoves and woven wool inner curtains seemed inadequate.

  With the memory of every little thing in its place, Edra knew that her Uncle Max had toiled for all that he had possessed. “He was a good man. We’re lucky we had him for as long as we did,” she remarked.

  The women stood silent for some time before they headed back to the house. Just outside the front door, off to the west side, was an out-house. Max never felt he needed to install indoor plumbing because he appreciated keeping the family close to a natural way of living.

  “I could have done without that in the winter,” Mildred commented with a laugh as they moved past the outhouse to the hitching post outside the front door. From this vantage point they had a view of the barn not far away down a dirt trail. Next to the barn was a building that housed additional hay and feed to sustain livestock through winter months. “And that,” Mildred motioned to the barn. “I did not appreciate walking down there when it was cold.”

  Edra looked at Mildred and smiled. They continued to reminisce, unaware that the next seventy-two hours would bring the news announcing the conviction of Oscar Wilde.

  “A woman’s face is her work of fiction.” OSCAR WILDE

  8

  Helene arrived home just in time to begin dinner. She had been in town shopping and visiting with Charley. She pulled potatoes from the storage bin, placed them on the cutting board, and began to slice them into tiny pieces. “I’m exhausted,” she mumbled.

  “What’s for eats?” Frank asked as he watched.

  “Stew.”

  “Again? Come home earlier you could get something else on the table for a change!”

  “And ignore Charley?” she said with annoyance. “I told you I…we needed help with him. I can’t just ignore…” She was playing this to get what she wanted and was determined not to let up if there was any hope of Charley latching onto Mildred. Very little had been on her mind since her earlier conversation with Frank about getting them together.

  “Helene, we both know what you’re up to.”

  “Oh yeah, Mildred came by also. Seems she was out shopping by Gus’s and wanted to drop something off for Charley.”

  “Oh?”

  “They were pretty friendly.”

  “Helene!” He smacked his lips in disgust.

  “It’s supposed to be warm tomorrow. Be a good day for that picnic. How’s about after dinner you go over to Mildred’s?”

  “I’m not going over there that late,” he protested.

  “You promised…”

  “No.”

  “You haven’t been back there since your last visit,” she nudged. “She must be wondering why you stopped by.”

  “I said no!”

  “But…you promised,” she whined.

  “I made no such promise. Now, cut it out, woman.”

  “Frrrrrrrrrrank,” she moaned, “pleeeeeeeeease, just this once. We owe it to her to thank her for helping Charley.” She moved closer to him in a manipulative sensual gesture to get what she wanted. It spoke to him that if he did what she wanted he’d get lucky.

  “God damn it, Helene! If Mildred was there today just let it be.”

  “I got food for a picnic. Enough for all of us. It’ll spoil…go to waste. Come on, honey.” She rubbed his back. “It’s just a picnic. What’s the harm?”

  He felt a rousing in his groin mixed in with all the anger, and he resented that she had that effect on him. He softened and reached back for her.

  “Go on over there, honey. I’ll get dinner ready then have a wash up and after the kids are down…” Her hand moved down to his thigh.

  “Just this once. Do not ask me to do anything like this again.”

  “Ohhhhhhh, sweetie.” Her hand moved higher to latch onto his hardness.

  “I’ll go in the morning. It’s too late now.”

  “It’s not that late.” She pulled back.

  “Knock it off. I said I’d go in the morning. Don’t want to be bothering them if they’re eating.”

  “Go after dinner.”

  “In the morning.”

  “You promise? You absolutely swear?” Her voice softened.

  “In the morning.” He reached for her, pulled her in close, and whispered, “You know what I want for dessert.”

  “Frank…” she whispered. “When you go…bring Mabel.”

  Nighttime merged into a new day that brought a rooster’s crow with the rising sun. Charley awoke to the sound of the cock and the sunshine flooding in through his bedroom window. This was the first morning as far back as he could remember that it felt good to be alive. The change had come slowly, starting with that first visit from Mabel and Mildred. He knew he would never have another love like Emma, but strangely enough, he was taking a liking to Mildred. He was becoming aware that he looked forward to seeing her, talking with her, and that there was something about her that made him feel comfortable. He knew it was not her looks or how she dressed, not the usual attraction. What he felt with Mildred was a kinship. He liked how they related. He liked her lack of pretense and ability to talk about things other people in town did not show an interest in, especially the women who were overly involved in teacup tattle. He never liked that aspect of living in a small town.

  Frank made his way to the Dunlap’s ranch with Mabel in tow. He approached the front door and knocked.

  “You here again, Frank? Everything okay?” Mildred asked as she pushed opened the door and came onto the porch. “Hi Mabel.” She placed her hand on Mabel’s head.

  “Everything’s fine. Just fine,” Frank replied.

  Mildred was puzzled. “Then why are you here, Frank?”

  “We’d like you to come along with us to the lake today. It’s going to be a warm one. Helene packed a basket full of food to feed us all and we’d love to have you.”

  Mildred was taken aback. She and Edra had never been invited anywhere by the Whitmores. “Why, that’s awfully nice of you but I have a lot of chores to do here. You let things go one day and well, you know, Frank, it all just piles up.”

  “You’d be doing me a big favor if you came along, Mildred.” He looked down at Mabel who was fidgeting. “Helene’d be pretty disappointed. Helene was up half the night making chicken, potatoes, bread and gravy, all freshly baked. Mildred, we sure do wish…”

  Mabel sprang in, “Uncle Charley’s gonna come.”

  Mildred felt a flush on her face and hoped it didn’t show. “Oh, I see.” She didn’t have time to think of a response and hated to make snap decisions. She needed to plan, anticipate things in advance and then make her moves to avoid doing something she’d regret later. Her hands shook, the moment filled with awkwardness. “Can you give me a minute?”

  Before Mildred made her way back in, Edra came out through the door. She had been listening in on their conversation and knew Mildred was in a precarious p
osition with having to make a spur-of-the-moment decision, and how much she hated to do that. Mildred had always been the planner in their relationship, working things out, anticipating consequences, and was not spontaneous. Edra felt conflicted. She wanted to help Mildred out and felt guilty she had cast doubt on everything Mildred had worked out to protect them, but she was also scared of where this was all heading. In the end, she decided to stuff her counter feelings and show more support. “Oh, go on. Be good for you to get out.”

  Mabel tugged on Mildred’s dress. “Come on, Mildred.”

  Mildred felt trapped. “Excuse me a minute please?”

  “Hurry up! Let’s go!” begged a very impatient Mabel.

  Mildred left Frank and Mabel on the porch and took Edra into their bedroom. “Why’d you say that?”

  “Don’t you want to set up appearances?”

  “But I thought you…what am I going to do with the Whitmores being there? I need to think this through and...”

  “What’s there to think? No way you’re going to predict what’s going to happen, so might as well seize the opportunity to make a show of attention to Charley.”

  Mildred was amazed with Edra’s change of attitude. “Whatever…”

  Edra looked deep into Mildred’s eyes. They knew each other well and in this moment, like so many that came before, they honed in on what they felt and were thinking without words needing to pass between them. It was times like this, in their hearts’ synchronicity, that they knew the only answer was to continue to love, despite everything. Edra watched as the fear drained from Mildred’s face. It was the validation that she needed that by following her intuitive sense she was doing the right thing. When their silence broke, Edra spoke. “It’s okay.” And she meant it in that moment where the feelings of insecurity took a rest and the hope that Mildred had been right about things working out was true. “Besides, it might be better for you to be with Charley along with a group than alone with him.”