Jemmy placed new trophies in her souvenir strongbox. She touched the smooth barrel of the Smith & Wesson revolver that she had liberated from the robbers on the train.
She never fired the revolver. She had found a use for it though. The gun butt had come in right handy for coshing a crate to smithereens—and the crate for coshing Scalager’s woman’s head into the land of the unconscious.
John’s blue bandana was a souvenir less lethal. For a week she wore it tucked into her chemise next to her heart. When it ceased to smell like apples, she laundered it and put it away. She chose to forget one detail—that she had used the bandana to stop Duke’s drunken mouth.
Still every time she bit into an apple, she wondered whether John Dollarhide would really turn up at the newspaper office in St. Louis to see her as he had promised. On occasion she woke dreaming of him. His words echoed in her heart. “. . . the kind of girl I’d pick over a frail empty-headed lass any day.”
Several weeks after she returned home she received a package from Annie Oakley—a complete sharpshooter suit of clothes—hat with a star, boots, pale buckskin skirt, and bolero with fringes. Most gorgeous of all was a pair of embroidered leggings even more elegant than the ones Annie had worn in Sedalia.
Annie explained the meanings of her symbols—oak leaves for bravery, red clover for hard work, and yellow iris for friendship.
Bravery, hard work, friendship—Jemmy was touched. The great Annie Oakley saw wonderful qualities in her and considered the would-be stunt reporter a friend.
Jemmy’s mementos from her adventures would no longer fit in the tin strongbox. She had to squeeze the Frank Butler and Annie Oakley costumes into her hope chest.
As she smoothed the buckskin inside tissue paper, she wondered whether she’d need the linens she’d suffered so many needle pricks to make. Would she ever use those embroidered pillowcases or crocheted doilies? Would she ever have a home of her own—a husband?
Her wistful thoughts bumped up against reality. She’d quashed her hopes of marrying a likely fellow of her own age. Her outlandish behavior was more than enough to blacklist her. The grand dames of St. Louis didn’t suffer unconventional females to go unpunished. The crop of men wealthy enough and independent enough to thumb their noses at society matrons would be far older and far more likely to rule young wives with stern face and cement fist. Jemmy shuddered at the thought.
Maybe she’d rent an apartment over Annette’s Millinery on Olive Street. Of course, she’d have to make herself a success as a journalist first. So far, she’d managed to stay one step ahead of her editor. But Suetonius Hamm would like nothing better than to personally escort her out the door.
Aloud she said, “So, Mr. Hamm, I’ve delivered on my promise. I write stories people love to read.” As long as I sell papers, he can’t fire me—probably.
On the same day, Jemmy received a letter from Dorothea. She ignored it until she’d admired Annie Oakley’s gift and carefully packed it away for safekeeping.
Why didn’t I open my friend’s letter first? Why did Annie’s fill me with more excitement? She had to admit it was snobbery. Annie is a celebrity. Dorothea is merely a friend.
She traced the shape of the claddagh round her neck with her thumb—friendship, love, loyalty. She felt a little ashamed when she compared it with another symbol, a sapphire star and moon on a golden chain. These bejeweled souvenirs had very nearly cost her everything she held dear. I should pick the claddagh—friendship over fame.
As a child with no pen pals, Jemmy had never looked forward to mail delivery until she began corresponding with Dorothea. Reading day-by-day reports of events in Sedalia became a highlight of Jemmy’s week.
Chief Prentice deferred Hal’s abduction case. He asked the prosecuting attorney not to file charges until after Jackson County had its due. He sent Scalager and the woman to Kansas City to stand trial for shooting Little Elk.
The chief avoided Duke’s case with equal dexterity. He approved the Koocks’ plan to send young Marmaduke off to Wentworth Military Academy.
Duke fared a little better than the other boys in the gang. Without well-heeled parents, they found themselves hustled off to the Missouri Industrial School for Boys at Boonville.
Mr. Koock tried to drill into Duke’s unwilling brain the need to mend his evil ways. If he should be sent down for academic failure or bad behavior, he would find himself packed off to Seattle to work in Smoot’s Hardware Store.
Elsinore Smoot had gone west to Seattle to sell miner’s tools to folks heading for the Klondike in ’97. Elsie Smoot was married to Sophie Snodderly Smoot, sister to Auntie Dee and Aunt Tilly. Shuffling unruly boys off to relatives in the wilderness was the last, desperate hope of a respectable family wishing to avoid scandal. Of course, they hoped to tame the lad, too. Even if the tribulations of the wilds killed the lad or caused him to run away, at least the family problem solved itself.
Deputy Sheriff Futcher turned out to be the criminal mastermind behind the train robbery. He finagled boys into doing the dirty work while he specialized in creating diversions.
Some of his diversions worked better than others. He had sent Sheriff Williams to the far reaches of the county on rumors of places where the robbers “holed up.” Of course, Sheriff Williams was always just a little too late to catch any miscreants.
It was Futcher who had created the scuffle that gave Obadiah his bashing at the Katy shops. The deputy had Mr. Koock sidelined in order to give Duke Koock and the skinny robber from the train a clear field to steal ticket money from the Wild West.
One crisp day in late fall, Jemmy tore into a letter from Sedalia.
My Dear Friend Jemmy,
I thought you should know the fellow who calls himself John Dollarhide is not a private investigator. The Kansas City manager swore no such person ever worked for the Pinkerton Agency. Why he was with the Scalager show or why he helped you and Hal is a great mystery. We may never know what really happened or why. I wanted to warn you in case you should ever see him again.
Your loving friend,
Dorothea.
Jemmy cursed her own gullibility. That confidence man had me convinced he was a hero. I should have known anyone so mysterious had to be two-faced.
Deeper reflection turned her anger to sadness. He must be good somewhere deep inside. After all, he did save me—well, almost—I think. Perhaps.
She sighed as she returned to Dorothea’s letter.
PS. Dearest Jemmy, wish me luck. Thanks to your help I found the courage to do what I have longed to do. Tonight I am going to wear my Little Egypt costume and dance for Obadiah.
Jemmy brushed a tear from her cheek as a thought struck her. She had a friend, a real friend. Dorothea was not like those mindless girls from school. They deserted Jemmy when she had to nurse her grandmother through months of illness. Those self-absorbed girls were always too busy with dances and picnics to visit when she needed them most.
Dorothea not only shared secrets with Jemmy, she understood Jemmy’s need for independence. Jemmy now had one friend who accepted Jemmy’s thumbing her nose at society’s traditions, one friend who never scolded Jemmy’s bad temper or thoughtlessness or lies.
Dorothea risked her dignity and her life for no better reason than Jemmy wished it. When Jemmy was in trouble, Dorothea came to the rescue. No one had ever done more—not even Jemmy’s own bodyguard.
Jemmy found herself contemplating love and friendship. She felt permanent and unconditional love from her mother. But mother-daughter love comes with rules. Mothers expect obedience. A friend does not. As for a man one might take an interest in? Those waters would have to remain uncharted.
How is a body to tell which is lasting reality and which is fleeting pretense?
Dorothea embraced Jemmy just as she was—imagination, nimble tongue, willfulness—the whole A-to-Z alphabet of contradictions that made up Jemima McBustle. Jemmy cherished her first genuine adult friend. She thought of Dorothea’s sweet face, and didn’t even recall she had once compared Dorothea’s long droopy nose to a peeled turnip.
Jemmy started to reread the note but was interrupted by her sister Miranda. “I wouldn’t be in your shoes if they were top of the line at Brown Company.”
“What do you mean?”
“Visitors await you in the parlor.”
Jemmy scowled with impatience. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“Well who are they?”
“You’ll see.”
Jemmy patted loose strands of hair back in place, then walked down two flights to the parlor and slid open the pocket doors.
Sipping tea in regal state were two Snodderly sisters. Auntie Dee glittered resplendent in dark brown serge with matching hat crowned by pheasant feathers and a pair of stuffed bobwhite quail.
Aunt Tilly looked even more severe than usual as she set aside her silver-headed walking stick and tugged at the fingers of her black kid gloves. “My dear, I bring you splendid news. Your Uncle Erwin and your Aunt Delilah have most generously decided to sponsor your grand tour of Europe.”
She took a genteel sip of tea without making even a teensy slurping noise. “Their offer quite overwhelms me, as I’m sure it does you. The Erwin McBustles promise to provide proper traveling clothes and spending money as well as the usual expenses for transport, hotels, and the like.”
Aunt Tilly set her teacup back in its saucer and added a splash of milk. “I believe April would be the appropriate month for departure. The Atlantic crossing is not nearly so rough in late spring. Naturally, I will be your companion.”
Jemmy tried not to look as stunned as she felt. “Auntie Dee, I’m speechless. When did you decide?”
Auntie Dee nodded toward Tilly. “My sister convinced me a trip abroad would do your cousin Duncan a world of good after his difficulties in the Spanish-American War, and for me, too. You must know how I’ve worried about my son since he returned from Cuba. Why shouldn’t you come along as well? Paying for two more is scarcely an added burden. We’ll have a foursome for whist.
“I might add that we’ll be able to examine an entirely new crop of young gentlemen there. You’ll be introduced to fellows who know nothing about those recent events in St. Louis that might make you seem less than ideal as a bride to our local swains.”
Jemmy’s ability to lie deserted her. She could think of nothing better than “How very generous of you, Auntie Dee.”
Jemmy had once envied the rich girls at Mary Institute who expected to go on grand tours the way poor girls expect farina for breakfast. Since her father died, she didn’t dare imagine she would find herself sailing across the ocean. She had given up hope of seeing those romantic locations she had read about in Mark Twain’s Innocents Abroad.
Going to Europe with wild cousin Duncan would no doubt be an education. Going to Europe with Auntie Dee would have good moments and bad. Both would make interesting travel companions.
Then reality hit. Aunt Tilly was to be Jemmy’s personal companion. Aunt Tilly would hem her in and criticize her every move. Going to Europe with the Caligula of chaperones was just plain unthinkable. Heavens in a handbag. How am I ever going to get out of going to Europe with Aunt Tilly?