For the next few days, Dori reveled in her freedom. Despite Solita’s protests, she rode Splotches when and where she chose. She teased Brett Owen until the foreman told her she was wilder than an unbroken mustang. Dori just laughed, pulled his Stetson down over his eyes, and danced away. Yet beneath her enjoyment, the guilty secret she carried stabbed at her conscience. Matt and Sarah would be home from their San Francisco honeymoon soon. What would they say when they learned Dori wasn’t going back to Boston?
The morning of their scheduled return, Dori followed the tantalizing tang of good food down the staircase and through the open hall door into the sunny Diamond S kitchen. “What smells so good? I’m starved.” She plunked down at the table.
“Huevos rancheros.” Solita set a plateful of steaming fried eggs with chili sauce in front of Dori and added warm tortillas. Her white teeth gleamed in a broad smile. “The Brookside Finishing School for Young Ladies did not serve such food, no?”
Dori grinned. “Hardly. It was mush, mush, mush for breakfast. If I never see another bowl of porridge it will be too soon.” She lifted a forkful of the mixture, blew on it to cool it down, and put it in her mouth. “Mmm. Better than I remember.”
Solita beamed. “In a few months, you will be here in our casa for good. I promise you will never have to eat mush again.”
The huevos rancheros suddenly lost all their taste. Before nightfall, Dori would have to confess she was already home for good. A letter from Miss Brookings lay on the desk in Matt’s office. Dori’s fingers itched to burn it before he and Sarah came, but knew she couldn’t. She was already in enough trouble.
Dori sighed. She hated to spoil her brother’s homecoming, but she just had to tell him before he saw the letter. She couldn’t afford to have Matt read the Babbling Brook’s recital of the events leading to her dismissal before he heard Dori’s side of the story.
“I thought you were starving.”
Solita’s reminder yanked Dori back into the present. “I’m waiting for it to cool.” She glanced at the counters laden with flour, sugar, spices, and a dozen large bowls and baking pans. “Are you planning to feed an army instead of Matt and Sarah, or are you going to open a bakery?”
Solita shook her head and her dark eyes glistened. “There must be pies and cakes and cookies for the shivaree. Senor Mateo and Senora Sarah escaped being troubled on their wedding night by staying at the Yosemite Hotel.” She rolled her expressive eyes. “Even the most daring vaqueros would not dare holler and beat on pans outside the hotel until invited in for treats.” She shrugged. “Tonight they will come here so we must be prepared.”
Dori’s heart sank. Shivarees were always fun, but being invaded by a horde of well-wishers on this particular night meant she would have no chance to confess. It was more than she could stand. She looked into Solita’s kindly face and blurted out, “Solita, I’m in terrible trouble.”
The housekeeper stared at her. “Senorita, how can this be? Dios be praised. He brought you safely home to us.”
Dori drew in a great breath. “He did, Solita, but I’m not going back to school.”
An icy voice spoke from the doorway leading into the great hall. “Begging your pardon, Miss Sterling, but you are going back. Haven’t you caused your brother enough trouble without kicking up a fuss and refusing to finish the course you insisted on taking?”
Dori spun out of her chair so quickly it crashed to the floor. Her unflinching gaze bored into Seth’s blazing blue eyes. She tried twice before she could hurl words at the glowering cowboy. “This is a private conversation, Mr. Eavesdropper. It doesn’t concern you in the least.”
“That’s what you think,” Seth shot back. “Sarah is my sister. She has a right to be happy. Anything that disturbs Matt affects her.” He shook a finger in Dori’s face. “Nothing is going to spoil their lives, get that? You’re going to be on that train the day after tomorrow as scheduled.” He paused and added, “You’re going if I have to tie you on Splotches and wait at the station until I see the train leave.”
Seth’s words spoil their lives did what no amount or ranting or raving could do. Dori threw herself into Solita’s arms and wailed, “I can’t go back. I’ve been expelled.”
An ominous silence pervaded the kitchen, broken only by Solita’s gasp and Dori’s hard breathing. Then Seth demanded, “What did you do this time?”
The scorn in his voice helped Dori gather her wits. “Nothing.” She jerked free from Solita’s embrace and glared at Seth. “I didn’t do anything. How would you like being called a shameless hussy and accused of coquetting with the headmistress’s nephew in a brazen attempt to weasel your way into society?” Memory heightened Dori’s fury.
“What would you do if you were insulted and humiliated? An insufferable Englishman named Stancel Worthington III announced that he was going to civilize and marry me. His aunt said it would be over her dead body.”
Seth’s lips twitched. “Never having been a young lady, I can’t really say. I’d sure be put out at being called names, but…” To Dori’s amazement Seth threw his head back and roared. “If I were a girl—a young lady—and anyone with the moniker ‘Stancel Worthington III’ tried to lasso me, I’d tell him adios in a hurry.”
The blood that had been furiously rushing through Dori’s veins slowed, and she simmered down. “I did, but not before giving it to the Babbling Brook and ‘dear Stancel’ with both barrels.” She felt her lips tilt in a grin.
“So she kicked you out of her precious school.”
“Yes.” Dori drooped. “She told me to never darken the door of her ladies’ academy again. I skedaddled out of there as quick as I could.” Dori spread her hands wide and she choked back tears. “I don’t want to spoil Matt and Sarah’s life, but I can’t go back. Miss Brookings was so furious that all the gold in California during the gold rush can’t buy my way back into the school.”
“Matt doesn’t know.” The quiet finality of Seth’s comment sent misery flooding through Dori.
“No. I couldn’t say anything before the wedding and ruin the happiest day of his life.”
Solita stood as if frozen. Seth took a deep breath, expelled it in a long sigh, and advised, “Don’t tell Matt and Sarah today. Tomorrow will be time enough.”
It suddenly seemed tremendously important for Dori to know what Seth was thinking. She took a step nearer and implored, “You don’t believe I was wrong, do you?”
His face went blank, as if he’d pulled down a shade and turned an OPEN sign to Closed. “Not this time, Miss Sterling.” He stalked out, leaving Dori smarting from his subtle references to her past behavior.
She crossed to the table and sank back in a chair. “Well, just when I thought Mr. Know-It-All was beginning to thaw, he closes up like an oyster. Doesn’t he like girls, or is it just me?” The thought hurt.
Solita’s round brown eyes opened wide. “Senor Seth likes senoritas, but not as much as they like him.”
“I’ll bet they do,” Dori muttered.
“Sí. He could court many of them if he had time.” She smiled and looked wise. “Especially Senorita Sheridan.”
An unreasonable pang of jealousy flowed through Dori. “You mean Sarah’s friend Abby, from the Yosemite Hotel?” Why should you care? a little voice whispered. He is nothing to you. Why then, did she hold her breath and wait for the reply?
Solita nodded. “When she comes to visit, her dark eyes look at Seth, and she blushes.”
Dori clenched her hands under the table. “What does he do?”
Solita reached for a large bowl and measured flour into it. “Senor Seth teases her, the same as Curly, Bud, and Slim do. They are all glad when she comes.”
That explains it, Dori thought. No wonder Seth has no use for me. Abby is probably the perfect little lady who would never dream of doing the things I do. Much as Dori wanted to deny it, ever since she’d met Seth at the station, she’d hoped to find favor with the tall cowboy. Brief encounters during the last few days had whetted her desire to get to know him better, but in vain. Until today, anywhere she was he usually wasn’t.
The imp of mischief that lurked on Dori’s shoulder, poised and ready to take off, sprang to life. She would make Seth Anderson like her. She would show him that she was more than an irresponsible nuisance.
How? Seth’s curt “not this time” clearly showed his sympathy for her present plight wasn’t enough to tip the scales in her favor. If only I could do something worthwhile, something noble and selfless and grown-up. I can start by giving up this morning’s ride and help Solita with the baking. It isn’t much, and Seth probably won’t even notice, but maybe I can think of something else while I work.
“It feels good to be in the kitchen,” Dori told Solita while they chattered away and filled the kitchen with rows and rows of baked goods. “Finishing schools don’t train young ladies to cook. Just to be young ladies.” She bit into a warm cookie and mumbled, “I suppose you and Sarah spend a lot of time here.”
“Sí.” Solita deftly trimmed excess pie crust off an apple pie and cut designs in the top with a sharp knife. “We also teach the Mexican children to speak English.” A ripple of laughter set her shoulders shaking. “The senoras, too.”
A tingle started at Dori’s toes and moved upward. Such a worthwhile undertaking might make Seth sit up and take notice. “Do you think I can help?”
The skepticism on Solita’s face wasn’t very flattering. Neither were her raised eyebrows, but she only said, “We shall see.” She rolled out another pie crust. “If you begin, you must come each time and not disappoint the students.”
“I will.” If it kills me. Dori felt a twinge for what would mean lost riding time. Was such a commitment really worth it, just to impress Seth? She smiled to herself. Right now, she wanted his approval so much she would do just about anything to get it. Besides, working with Solita and Sarah would give her time to get better acquainted with her new sister-in-law—and through her, learn what made Seth Anderson tick.
Dori and Solita had barely finished the baking and gotten supper underway when a laughing Matt and Sarah arrived. As Dori feared, there was no time for confessions. At supper, the newlyweds bubbled over with tales of San Francisco: the trip across San Francisco Bay, with icy waves attacking the ferry. The multitude of tall buildings. The salty smell from the seemingly endless Pacific Ocean. The hustle and bustle of carriages and horse-drawn carts. The steep hills and cable cars. The Chinese theater.
“Showing Sarah the wonders of San Francisco was like seeing it through new eyes,” Matt told them with a sly look at his bride.
Sarah’s eyes shone with love. “It was exciting and interesting, but I was glad to shake the dust of San Francisco off my shoes and come home. I don’t like cities. Madera is big enough for me.”
It was the perfect opening for Dori’s not-so-gladsome news, but her throat dried, and her tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth. Now was not the time to confess she had shaken the dust of Boston off her shoes. Yet she had never felt more miserable and alone than during the shivaree.
Even Solita’s unspoken sympathy couldn’t lift Dori’s spirits. Standing to one side while the others made merry, Dori thought of her conductor friend on the journey home, and of the story she had told him. The sword of Damocles had fallen on her in Boston, but Dori suspected the real damage was yet to come.
The jovial crowd finally left. All was quiet. Seth had said good night and gone out, leaving Matt, Sarah, and Dori alone in the great room. He banked the fire and told his bride, “Go on up. I’ll just have a quick look at the mail and be right with you.”
Dori froze with one foot on the bottom stair. “No! I mean, why tonight? Surely there’s nothing that can’t wait until morning.”
“I agree.” Sarah linked her arm in her husband’s, but Matt’s gaze never left Dori. It made her feel like a butterfly on a pin. Why did he have to know her so well?
“You seem mighty concerned.” He cocked an eyebrow. “What have you been up to now?”
Every resolution to wait fled. Dori sank to the bottom stair, buried her face in her hands, and said, “I’ve been dismissed.”
“Dismissed? Dismissed from what?” Matt demanded.
Dori licked her dry lips. “Expelled. Kicked out. I can’t go back to Brookside—ever.”