by Teresa Rae
“Clara, what are you doing here?” I turn my attention to her.
“Colonel Blair hired me as your lady’s maid.” She takes off her bonnet. “Can you tell me why you were on your hands and knees?”
“I was trying to clean the floor before Colonel Blair took away the brush. This place is filthy.”
She raises an eyebrow.
“No wonder Colonel Blair was in such a disagreeable mood.” She wraps her arm through mine. “Come along. You look a fright. We need to get you cleaned up,” she says it almost as though she’s my nanny or something. That’s probably why he hired Clara, to babysit me.
“What about the floor?” I object.
“The floor is not your concern.”
“What do you mean?” I question.
Clara directs me to a frost-covered window. She opens it. White Cloud is outside putting together a wikiup. The rest of Clara’s band lead in horses and begin unloading them. Everyone’s here, the children as well as the elderly.
“Colonel Blair hired us to serve on his household staff,” she explains, shutting the window. “He said he was shorthanded, and we are happy for the income.”
I smile, giving her an unexpected hug. She gives me a strange look, and I remember that we’re practically strangers in 1875.
“Oh, Clara! The three of us are going to become the best of friends!” I exclaim. I wrap an arm around her and the other around Ida.
* * *
I slide my fingers up and down the strings, moving the bow slowly. Clara and Ida have gone to help downstairs. Having been severely admonished to behave myself, I play a song I often played for Mama. Amazing Grace was always a favorite of hers. It’s impossible to play the song and not think of her. I wonder what she would say if she knew what I was up to. I wonder if she would approve of my decision to try to save my friends. I am so deep in thought I don’t notice Colonel Blair standing in the doorway until I put down the violin.
“I’m sorry if I have disturbed you,” I say.
His eyes go to mine. “My father played the violin. That was his instrument.”
I look over the old violin in my hands. “It’s beautiful. Henry said it was your mother’s.”
He smiles faintly. “Henry thinks everything in the attic belonged to my mother.”
I giggle at my friend.
In a hushed voice he says, “You are at such peace when you play.”
I nod. “When the world is chaotic around me, I can count on the violin. It is the only thing I have ever had control over. I’m sure it is the same for you. What do you have control over?”
He thinks for a moment. “Silver and gold, I have control over my ore.”
“Then that is where you find your peace.” I put the violin in the violin case.
His eyebrows furrow. “It has never brought me peace.”
“Really? I thought money always brought peace. It would for me.” I shut and latch the violin case.
“And what would you do with wealth?”
I laugh. “Are you kidding? If I had a lot of money, I would use it to help people. I would provide medical care for the poor and help orphans go to school. I would make the world a better place.”
He stares at me for several moments before gesturing to a small box next to my bed. “I see you found more of my pipes.”
I smile sweetly at him while holding up a pipe carved in the shape of a nude woman with huge breasts.
“Charming,” I say.
His face reddens. “It was a gift from one of the soldiers who served under my command. May I have the pipes back?”
“No, you may not.” I throw the nudie pipe back in the box. “I have permanently confiscated them.”
He sighs. “Would you like to see what is being done downstairs?”
I nod once.
He takes the violin and puts it aside before helping me to my feet.
“You are a tiny little thing,” he muses.
“Always have been and always will be,” I answer with a frown. “Do you take offense to my size?”
He just shakes his head with his lips pursed in response.
The moment we steps out of the room, I see what they’ve been up to: the smoke-stained whitewashed walls are being covered by brightly colored wallpaper, the floors have been properly scrubbed, and new drapes are being made to hang in the windows.
“You are decorating, and you didn’t invite me!” I say.
“After the manual labor you preformed this morning, I wanted you to rest. I have been invited to the Grand Railroad Ball in Carson City, this evening, and thought you might wish to attend as well,” he replies, waiting for an answer.
A real ball in the Victorian era? There’s no way the beauty queen in me could ever refuse.
“What time do we leave?” I ask.
He smiles and looks at a silver pocket watch. “We have just enough time to dress before we catch the train to Carson City.”
* * *
I look at my reflection in the mirror, disbelieving I am the woman whose reflection I see. I have spent my life preparing for and competing in beauty pageants, and I’ve never been dressed as elaborately as I am at the moment. My pink gown has a surprisingly low neckline and off-the-shoulder sleeves with a form-fitting waist. The bottom of the dress is spectacular, draped with cascades of pink frills. My cuirass bodice feels terrible, but I must admit, it looks wonderful under the gown, as though my body was made to dress this way. I never thought I’d see the day my curves were good for something. Ida and Clara have put my hair up in a cluster of blond ringlets with a gorgeous feather hairpiece.
“Here be you gloves, Miss Harris,” says Ida, handing me the white gloves.
“I don’t know what I would do without you two,” I say, putting on the gloves.
Clara giggles, holding up a long, black ribbon. “You would look a mess. Turn so I can tie on your neck ribbon.”
“That thing is so long someone is going to step on it and choke me.”
“It is not as long as your dress, besides it needs to hang down the back of your dress.”
I give in, obediently turning around. She gently puts the ribbon around my neck, tying a bow in the back. The long ends join my draped overskirt. I wiggle in the dress.
“I should have gone to the outhouse before I dressed,” I say. Ida goes to the corner and retrieves the chamber pot. I shake my head. “I will just have to figure it out in the outhouse.”
“Rebecca, it will be impossible for you to use the outhouse,” Clara informs me. “You will have to use the chamber pot.”
“Just take the dress off for a moment and I will be able to…” Before I can finish Clara has lifted my skirts and situated the chamber pot. My face reddens with embarrassment.
“I’m not taking off the dress,” she says. “Use the chamber pot like a proper lady so everyone will stop talking about how strange you are.”
“But I’m not a proper lady,” I object, thinking of how I’ve been treated as nothing but a child since I arrived in 1875.
“You are the only proper lady in Virginia City,” she counters. “We all know that, but you need to stop creating a headache for us. We want to take care of you, but cannot because you are too determined to take care of yourself. You have done so much for me. Sometimes generosity is a heavy burden to bear. Let me do a few small things for you.”
I’m practically dancing and know I don’t have time to remove the dress. She’s right, generosity is a heavy burden. I relent and use the chamber pot. I feel better, but I desperately miss my toilet at home. Chamber pots are dreadful!
Clara nods. “It is about time. We must finish getting you ready.”
When I step out of the bedroom, I sigh. The stairs are going to be difficult to maneuver with a hurt ankle and the massive skirts.
“You are not to descend the staircase without assistance,” Colonel Blair says from his doorway.
He steps into the light, taking my breath away. Dressed in a very fine three-piece
suit, he looks the part of a nineteenth century millionaire. In one hand, he holds a top hat and a pair of leather gloves. In the other, he carries an elegant walking stick. He stares unashamedly. Once again, I must look like a baby wearing adult clothes.
I start down the stairs. Colonel Blair instantly takes my arm and helps me.
“Oh, Miss Rebecca!” Rose exclaims as we walk into the foyer. “You done knock me speechless!”
“The corset is terrible, but I like the dress,” I say, swaying the skirt.
“You shouldn’t be sayin’ such things in da company of Massa James!” she reprimands me.
I shrug my bare shoulders, but before I have a chance to respond Colonel Blair intercedes as he puts on his top hat, “I have come to expect the complete truth from Miss Harris. Would you please bring the gift I purchased for her?”
“Pleasure, Massa Blair!” She hurries from the room.
“Colonel Blair, I really must object,” I turn on him. “You cannot buy me any more things.”
“I can purchase whatever I wish with my money.” He pulls on his gloves. “Furthermore, you could not possibly go all the way to Carson City without the proper outerwear. It would be indecent.”
I don’t know what he’s talking about until Rose returns. She is carrying an elegant fur cape with matching muff. Colonel Blair takes the cape and places it around my shoulders, toggling it at my neck. I want to object to the cost and ridiculousness of it. I don’t. I absolutely love the cape. It is the most beautiful article of clothing I have ever seen. I run my hands across the soft, brown fur. Colonel Blair smiles in self-satisfaction.
“There are some advantages to wealth, other than charity. Are there not, Miss Harris?” he says.
I can’t argue with him. I’ve always been a sucker for beautiful clothing, and the cape is spectacular. I take the muff from Rose.
“These will have to be returned when I leave,” I say, putting my hands in it.
Colonel Blair just smirks. “Miss Egan, are we ready?”
“Yes, Colonel Blair,” Clara says, descending the stairs in a nice dress.
I wrinkle my forehead in confusion.
Clara explains, “I am also your chaperone, Miss Harris. You cannot very well go to a ball without a chaperone.”
“This evening should be wonderful,” I say, thrilled to have Clara coming along.
Gabe is waiting in the driver’s seat of a large, covered carriage. He inclines his head slightly when he sees me. I smile warmly in return as Colonel Blair helps me into the carriage. Clara takes the seat next to me, and the Colonel sits across from us.
Excited and nervous about the ball, I gaze out as we enter Virginia City. I see children in rags and a drunken brawl. I feel a stab of guilt. I’m wearing the most beautiful and ridiculous dress and cloak while so many will struggle to feed and keep their families safe tonight. It’s difficult to deal with the city’s contradictions. There is the wealth and luxury enjoyed by the mine owners, contrasted by the poverty and destituteness of many of the miners, their families, and the women of the red district. The city also has a strange mixture of violence and elegance. The Victorian sensibilities aren’t so prominent in the Wild West. I am deep in thought as I notice a face peer around a building at the carriage.
I am taken aback. Cassandra, Samuel’s prostitute, is checking up on us. She glares, making a strange sign with her hands. The diamond around my neck grows hot as the woman shrieks and disappears. I don’t know much about Cassandra, but I have seen a similar hand gesture before. There is little doubt in my mind that, like Sunny, she is a witch. Unfortunately, she’s not a nice witch because she just tried to curse me. I am going to have to keep my distance.
I turn my head, finding Clara deep in thought. She smiles, but I know a fake smile when I see one. I want to ask what the problem is, but the carriage stops.
“James! Miss Harris!” John MacKay greets us at the train station. “I had hoped we would see the two of you here.”
“Good evening, John and Louise,” James inclines his head.
A well-dressed woman, in an elegant mauve gown, smiles. “You must be the Miss Harris I have heard so much about. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Louise MacKay.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” I reply, gesturing behind me. “This is my chaperone, Miss Clara Egan.”
Mrs. Mackay acknowledges Clara with a nod of the head. “Between the two of us, I believe we can be both good company and keep Miss Harris’s precious, young reputation intact.”
The train ride is interesting and exhilarating. Beautiful people in beautiful clothing are fun to watch, but I have a blast just being on the train. The locomotive is brand-new for 1875 and really fun to ride in. The entire journey feels like a really posh reenactment.
“Am I to suppose you like the train, Miss Harris?” Colonel Blair asks, watching me stare out the window.
“I have always liked trains,” I answer truthfully. “They are very exciting. Don’t you agree, Colonel Blair?”
“They are a practical means of transport.”
“Colonel Blair, you are far too serious.” I laugh, patting his gloved hand while returning my gaze out the window.
The train ride is glorious, and I’m a bit disappointed when it ends. However, my disappointment disappears as I follow Mrs. MacKay and Clara from the train to Corbett’s Hall. They usher me to the cloak room where attendants help us out of our cloaks. Clara hands me a fancy, lace fan.
“It’s plenty cool. I don’t need a fan,” I try to hand it back.
Clara scowls, directing me to the corner of the room where we can engage in a private conversation.
“Miss Harris,” she says with exasperation. “A fan is important. Your mother must have taught you how to use one!”
“My mother never told me anything about fans,” I answer honestly.
She shakes her head in disapproval, taking my fan in hand. She opens it, fanning quickly. “If you do this, it means you are independent of a relationship.” She fans slowly. “If you do this, you are telling everyone you are engaged.” I gasp, understanding how important these signals are in nineteenth century society. She nods, fanning with her right hand over her face. “This is as if you are saying, ‘Come on,’ and this…” She switches hands, fanning with her left over her face. “…means ‘leave me.”
“It’s impossible. How do you learn all this? There is no way I’m going remember it all,” I say in frustration.
“I was raised by a wealthy family, and you must remember,” she replies, opening and shutting the fan. “Do not do that! It means, ‘Kiss me.’”
“Right, do not open and close the fan.” I burn that one into memory.
She opens the fan wide. “If you do this, it indicates love, but if it is only half open, it means friendship, and if you close it completely, it denotes hate.”
“How many rules are there?” I ask in quiet desperation. I’ve never been good at pop-quizzes.
“Over thirty,” she swings the fan. “You must also not do this because it is as if you are saying, ‘Can I see you home?’”
I grab Clara’s hand. “I’m so glad you are here!”
She loosens my grip on her. “I will not leave your side. We must go; Mrs. MacKay is waiting.”
Mrs. MacKay isn’t the only one waiting. Mr. MacKay and Colonel Blair are standing outside the cloak room. They escort us to our hosts, Superintendent Yerington, the conductors, engineers, and other employees of the Virginia and Truckee Railroad Company.
“Mr. and Mrs. MacKay, what an honor it is to have you with us,” Superintendent Yerington greets us. “Please introduce us to your companions.”
John MacKay huffs in Colonel Blair’s direction.
“Mr. Yerington, I am certain you are familiar with this man’s script, though his face is unfamiliar. Please allow me to introduce Colonel James Blair, in the flesh,” he says sarcastically before adding, “and his guests are Miss Rebecca Harris and her chaperone, Miss Clara Egan.”
“It is a common problem for my recluse friend.” Mr. MacKay pats Colonel Blair on the back.
Then a whole lot of butt-kissing begins. The men practically fall over themselves to ensure Mr. MacKay and Colonel Blair want for nothing. It seems to last forever. I tune out the whole gagging episode, watching the ball through the doors. The women are beautiful and the men are dashing. I tap my foot to the beat of the music.
“Miss Harris,” Colonel Blair draws me out of my mind. “Shall we?”
He hands me a dance card.
It’s really strange. As we enter the ballroom, my party stops and bows at the company, even though there are so many people that hardly anyone notices. I follow suit, not understanding the mountain of social protocol which has been thrust on me. It’s better to just go with it.
“Miss Harris, will you give me the pleasure of dancing with you?” Mr. MacKay kindly asks while offering his hand as one song ends and another begins.
“Miss Harris has twisted her ankle,” Colonel Blair objects.
“I would love to dance,” I counter with a smile. This is my only chance to attend a nineteenth century ball. There’s no way I’m letting a hurt ankle stop me from getting some use out of all those ballroom dance classes Mama traded house-cleaning for.
I follow Mr. MacKay to the dance floor, noticing Colonel Blair and Mrs. MacKay are also among the dancers.
My dance classes help keep me from completely humiliating myself, but I am in no means a graceful dancer. Still, I am enjoying myself so much that I simply ignore the stares of the other guests. Yeah, I look like I’m twelve and limp, but dancing with John MacKay is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. When the dance ends, we exchange bows and silly smiles
“Miss Harris,” Superintendent Yerington says, stepping between us while gesturing to a young man at his left. “Allow me to introduce you to George Pierce.”
George inclines his head. “Miss Harris, shall I have the honor of dancing this set with you?”
Thus begins an evening of seemingly endless dance partners. Mr. Yerington takes it upon himself to make sure my dance card is nearly full of different dance partners, and I happily dance with each one. Some of the dances are more difficult than others, especially the quadrilles, but I have learned enough beauty pageant dance numbers to fake my way through without major mishap. Unfortunately, dancing has taken its toll on my ankle. My limping has turned into all-out hobbling. I take a seat next to Clara.