The Learn to Be a Gentleman class proved to be a big success, every spot snapped up within three days. The young ladies involved in the Society for the Betterment of Culture were all atwitter with excitement, expecting to find gems in the rough. When news of eager students spread through the community, more young ladies volunteered to “do their part,” and new women joined the society.
Today Ellen had joined Mother and Millie in the final preparations. Almost thirty men had signed up for the classes, and not all of them were cowboys. Mother’s degree of excitement surprised Millie, until she said, “Perhaps you will meet a young man of good character at these classes.”
Her smug smile irritated Millie. They had lived in Wichita long enough to meet several men of good character. As long as they took a class to improve their uncultured ways.
Millie couldn’t get as excited as everyone else. Wes had written to say his arrival in Wichita would be delayed. Until she met him face-to-face, she would compare every man against the image she had created of Wes. The problem was, she imagined a perfect man, true, strong, and faithful who also knew proper etiquette and the way to treat a lady.
“Look at this list of names. Charles Martin, Samuel Robinson, H. J. Wesley Jr.—” Mother’s head lifted as the initials rolled from her tongue. “Mr. Wesley sounds promising. He at least claims his father with pride, as indicated by the use of ‘junior.’ ‘Tex’ Brown? Honestly. What name did his parents give him?”
“I assume he’s from Texas, Mrs. Cain.” Ellen kept her eyes on the calling cards they were making for all the men and women.
Millie smothered a chuckle and snuck a glance at Ellen. Ever since Millie received word from Wes, Ellen said less than usual about her cousin. Of course, they had spent much of their time with Mother, who put a damper on such girl talk.
Millie wished she could discuss her doubts with her friend. What if one of the men in the class caught her eye? She must settle things with Wes before she encouraged anyone else. If only he had arrived as promised.
By the time the afternoon ended, they had completed the calling cards—Ellen had lovely penmanship—a class roster, and a schedule for the first day’s session tomorrow. Mother and two other women would attend as chaperones. Millie counted on Mother’s silence during the meeting if only because a public reprimand would be unseemly.
Of course, if any of the men misbehaved, the class would be closed faster than the first students signed up.
On Monday morning, Ellen and Millie spent much longer than usual over their toilette. They had read Emily Thornwell’s chapter “Female Dress: Elegance, Style and Economy” until they could recite it from memory. Today they took advantage of every minute she recommended on skin and hair care.
Sitting side by side and looking in the mirror, Ellen turned her head from side to side. “I still think a damp washcloth and a pinch of the cheeks would do the same good, and wouldn’t take nearly as long.”
“Blasphemy.” Millie smiled to take the sting away. “Even Mother agrees her recommendations border on self-absorption. We do it today to prove the superiority of a set code of conduct.”
The clock struck ten, and the friends rose as one to head for the church where the classes would be held. Mother waited by the door. “I still think it would be wiser to arrive by carriage.”
“We can walk in perfect safety and demonstrate to any onlookers the proper etiquette for conducting oneself in public.” Millie repeated the reason she had used earlier. Unspoken was the relief she found in a pleasant stroll. She wished to arrive with a confident air and a pleasant bloom on her cheeks.
When they reached the church door, Millie knew their clients had already arrived by the odor emanating from the social hall. Mother’s nose wrinkled, but she discreetly held a handkerchief to her nose. Millie had no such escape. She had hoped not to have to mention such personal details so soon, if at all, but she made a mental note to add it to today’s lecture.
Millie planned to sneak up on the group and study them for a few moments before class began. Instead, as her shoe hit the floor, the chatter in the room silenced. When Millie and Ellen entered the room, the men split into two lines, leaving a pathway to the platform where the girls would present the lessons.
Millie wished she could return the frank stares the men directed her way, but at most, she caught sight of the angle of a man’s jaw, the smoothness of his chin, the way he held his ten-gallon hat at his side. One man held her attention, with a well-trimmed beard, and deep blue eyes that reminded her of Boston Harbor.
Millie climbed to the podium, assisted by the pastor, who would introduce them before discretely leaving. Five minutes later, she found herself staring at two rows of men, mostly young, only one as arresting as the bearded cowboy with the blue eyes. The young ladies stood at the back, ready for their role in the class.
Whatever had she decided to do?
Wes had attended a number of churches over the years, but he had never seen a room set up like this. It looked like the drawing room in a large house more than a church’s social hall. Perhaps the Ladies’ Society had lent furniture to create the correct atmosphere.
Several people from his team had signed up for the class—the cook, Samuel “T-Bone” Robinson, his friend Tex Brown, as well as a few others. Rudy Mulrooney surprised him, but at least the man who had created the scene in the street wasn’t attending. Overall, more drovers than he expected had arrived for the class. While they waited for the teachers to make their appearance, he took drovers he knew aside, explaining his trick on their teacher.
He wondered if he would recognize Millie when he saw her again. He needn’t have worried. The moment she stepped into the room she drew his eye. The young lady who had made such an impression on him when seen for only a few seconds across the street was instantly recognizable. Her pale blond hair shone like a halo in the lamplight, her skin a pampered, pale color, smooth and just the right shade of pink on her cheeks. Her dress was something he might expect from Boston, where Millie lived before her father had brought the family out west.
Precisely on the stroke of eleven—neither two seconds earlier or later—Millie approached the podium. He had wondered how a soft-spoken young lady could be heard in the enormous room, but he needn’t have worried. She spoke clearly without using a strident tone, as if she had received training in oratory.
“For our first exercise, Miss Harper will help the gentlemen find their seats, and I will help the ladies.”
A smile flickered around Ellen’s lips when she greeted him. “You must be Mr. Wesley. Please accept the seat two spots to the right of the podium.”
“Assigned seating? Do they think we’re a bunch of schoolchildren?” Tex asked.
“Maybe they will sprinkle the fair ladies among us,” Wes said. Already a few older women sat in corners about the room, their eagle eyes scanning the newcomers for hints of impropriety. “Miss Cain cuts quite a fine figure,” he said.
“Word is she has a beau,” Ellen gently warned him.
I know. Me. But Wes needed to play his part.
Once everyone had settled, Millie took her place behind the podium again. “The Society for the Betterment of Culture is delighted to offer classes to learn how to be a gentleman.” Genuine delight oozed from Millie as she first addressed the assembly. “Since we are strangers to one another, we will begin our classes with the proper etiquette for introductions. When a man and woman are being introduced to each other, the gentleman must be introduced to the lady.” She consulted a list in front of her. “Would Mr. H. J. Wesley Jr. and Miss Ellen Harper please step forward?”
Wes took an extra second to recognize his alias. Being called with Ellen couldn’t be an accident, could it? Was Millie about to expose him in front of the group?
No, he decided, not at a class on etiquette. Ellen sat opposite him at the other end of the semicircle. She smiled at him reassuringly as they met in front of the podium.
Millie continued with the lecture. “Not only must the gentleman be presented to the lady first, but it is also appropriate to include information regarding either party that may be known to the presenter. In this case, I will introduce the couple in this fashion.”
Millie dismounted the steps, her right hand carefully holding her dress. When she stood in front of Ellen and Wes, she said, “Miss Harper, allow me to present Mr. Wesley, lately of Abilene. Mr. Wesley, Miss Harper is a lifetime resident of Wichita.” She smiled at Wes as if she knew all his secrets, but simply said, “I know he is of Abilene from the information he provided when he signed up for the class. Such small bits of information make conversation between two strangers easier.”
Wes expected Ellen to ask if he was involved in ranching. After all, Abilene was the other end of the cattle trail that ended in Wichita. Before they had an opportunity to carry on a conversation, however, Millie dismissed them to their seats.
“Now I will give you each an opportunity to introduce two members of our class.” As Millie spoke, another young lady, a rather plain-faced woman but with a pleasant smile, passed among them, handing each man a single card. So none of the ladies had to exhibit their skills. Two names were written on the front of the card, along with the man’s hometown. A number was written on the back of the card, perhaps indicating the order they would perform their duties.
Wes grinned when he saw the name “Mr. Robinson” of New Orleans. How would the fine ladies react if he embellished on the facts, that everyone called him T-Bone, or even T, that he made the best steaks of anyone this side of the Mississippi? That he always claimed to be from New Orleans, even though he had lived in Texas for most of his life? Those tidbits should probably come out in genteel conversation.
Speaking of names, Wes had to introduce a “Miss Hasselblad,” whose family came from Sweden. Nine men came before him; hopefully he could learn from their mistakes. The biggest problem was the pronunciation of her name. In a real setting, he would know both parties. Since he knew T-Bone but not “Miss Hasselblad,” he would ask.
He knew just the person he would ask, the teacher, Millie, known here as “Miss Cain.” He made his way toward her before they began the next section of the class. For the first time, the two people who had poured out thousands of words on paper would speak face-to-face.
His appearance, his skin sunburned after weeks on the trail, only partially hidden by his beard. If only he could wear his hat indoors. He was worrying about his looks like a girl. Be a man, Wes!
Millie was speaking with the young woman who had passed out the cards. He hung back until they finished, but Millie motioned him forward. In her perfectly formed manner and formal eastern accent, she said, “Miss Hasselblad, may I present Mr. Wesley of Abilene to you.” She explained Wes would perform her introduction.
Was it just Wes’s imagination, or did he sense an extra measure of pleasure in the way Millie said his name?
With the answer to his question already provided (Hassle + blad, like dad), Wes could ask Millie about anything at all. But what?