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.”