Come Tuesday morning, Millie couldn’t decide if she was more nervous than she was on the first day of class, or less.
“How can you be worried? Look at everything you accomplished yesterday.” Ellen raised one hand in the air and folded down her thumb. “You wondered if the chaperones would remain uninvolved or take over the class. They didn’t say a peep.”
That brought a smile to Millie’s mouth. Not even Mother. She nodded in agreement.
“Number two.” Ellen folded her pointer finger. “You worried that our young ladies couldn’t play their roles in class. Perhaps they might look awkward at a Boston soiree, but I thought they did well.”
“They did indeed.” Millie nodded thoughtfully. Everyone had done well. Men swarmed about plain Ruthie, attracted to her warmth and sweet manner. Poor Sheila Snowden, the prettiest of them all, hadn’t received nearly as much attention. “If only Sheila would learn how to laugh more quietly.”
Ellen giggled before she slapped her hand over her mouth. “Shame on both of us. She can’t help how she laughs any more than I can make my brown eyes blue like yours.” Ellen often complained about her brown hair and eyes.
Millie felt heat in her cheeks. “I can’t believe I said an unkind, unchristian thing. In any case, this class is not meant as a matchmaking event. I wonder how the men are doing with their homework. No one asked for help in making their cards, although we offered.”
“Oh, Millie. They wouldn’t ask you for help even if they mark an X for their name. That would shame a man.” Ellen shook her head at her friend’s lack of insight.
“The shame isn’t theirs. I blame a situation that didn’t permit them to learn how to read and write.” Millie walked around the table to the calendar hanging on the wall. Classes were listed every day, Monday through Friday, with a dance on the final day.
“You’re thinking about Wes.” Ellen joined her in front of the calendar. “What does a proper young lady do if a caller arrives unexpectedly?”
“She would tell him she had a previous engagement,” Millie answered without hesitation. What if Wes did show up before Friday’s final dance? That would be a problem.
“I know he’s my cousin. But until he gets here, take a look at the men God has placed in your path. How about that nice Mr. Wesley, the other ‘Wes’?” Ellen’s eyes twinkled when she asked about him.
“I try not to think about him at all.”
“You do like him. I knew it. If only H. J. Wesley Jr. and Wes Harper could stand side by side for comparison.”
If Millie met someone with Mr. Wesley’s handsome appearance and Wes’s heart and mind, he would be perfect—as long as he wasn’t a cowboy. Adjusting to life in Wichita after growing up in Boston had been hard enough. She couldn’t imagine living on a ranch, surrounded by cattle and dirt. With Wes, she hoped for a quiet life in a small town.
“I am not in any way committed to your cousin, beyond meeting him in person. I confess I may expect too much from that meeting.” What if he asks Father for permission to court me?
“Millie?” Mother called from the drawing room, as if she had heard Millie’s unspoken question.
Millie took a couple of deep breaths before heading to the drawing room. Mother sat in her favorite chair, decorated with antimacassars she had made for her hope chest as a child. Millie smiled at the story, another time and place.
Mother reviewed the upcoming lessons, with remarks on yesterdays’ successes and failures. “If only the girls were more acquainted with proper etiquette themselves.”
Ellen tensed, and Millie hastened to interrupt. “We prayed that God would bring the right men and women to our classes. I believe the ladies did a wonderful job yesterday.”
“When you put it that way.” Mother calmed down.
The time had come to leave. Millie slipped her favorite songs, as well as a hymnal, into her bag, in case she did decide to sing.
Upon their arrival, instead of a few quiet minutes to practice with Ruthie, students milled around the welcoming table half an hour before the class was scheduled to begin. All rules regarding punctuality fled from her mind. Although their early arrival was an inconvenience, the men’s enthusiasm played to her pride.
The men turned as one when the women entered. One new man had joined the group, a tall, black man with short-cropped hair. Millie’s breath caught in her throat.
Wes—Mr. Wesley, Millie reminded herself—stepped forward. “Miss Cain, Miss Harper, it is my pleasure to introduce you to Mr. White, formerly of the Wisteria Plantation and retired sergeant in the US Cavalry.”
Mr. White—what irony given his deep skin color. The thought crossed Millie’s mind as she cataloged Wes’s correct introduction. She found her hand caught in Mr. White’s strong fist, while Wes looked at her, gauging her reaction to this unexpected twist he had thrown her way.
Mr. White was a former slave and soldier. This man deserved whatever her class could offer. She nodded her head. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. White.”
Not bad, Wes decided, when Millie accepted Hank’s handshake with only a slight tremble of her hand. Her smile as she welcomed him made up for the slight wobble in her voice. “Has Mr. Wesley shared our lessons from yesterday?”
“Yes, Miss Cain.”
Wes held back a chuckle as Millie reacted to Hank’s British-accented English.
Hank turned to Ellen. “Miss Harper, may I have the pleasure of introducing Mr. Wesley, formerly of Houston?” Millie smiled at the proper introduction.
Wes gulped. Before now, Millie had no reason to connect Mr. Wesley to Wes Harper. Houston made a connection. His sister had forwarded his letters from his old home in Houston, instead of from the ranch where he worked. Although he had warned Hank against revealing his identity, such small things could unravel Wes’s plans.
Wes took Ellen’s hand, which was trembling with her suppressed laughter. “Miss Harper, how pleasant to see you again today.”
When another cowboy captured Millie’s attention, Wes took Ellen aside. “Where can we meet? Without your friend?”
Ellen’s lips parted, ready to laugh. She shook her head to settle her throat. “Not here. Not at my house. Not at the boardinghouse?”
Wes shook his head.
“I know what we’ll do. Hand me one of your cards.”
Wes did, confused.
“Promenade with me down the main street this afternoon. It might make Millie jealous.” She slipped one of her cards into his hand. “That makes it official.”
Once again the group was assigned seating, although Millie assured them that at the next class seating would be unassigned. “Today we will discuss a few rules regarding conversation. Gentlemen, you may be pleased to know ladies have many more rules to follow than you do. Much of what I have to say is no more than common sense. For instance, don’t interrupt another person’s conversation.”
That made sense, although it was difficult to follow within a large group.
“Don’t laugh at your own stories. If you are describing a person at a distance, you may give his particulars, but don’t point to him.”
Wes took notes as Millie droned on. Don’t forget someone’s name. What should he do if he did forget a name? Look at a person in the face while carrying on a conversation. He agreed with that one.
Millie spoke well, often illustrating possible mistakes with humorous anecdotes. When laughter rippled across the group, she held her speech until it subsided.
As a final step, she explained the process of exchanging cards, which seemed simple enough. Leave a card for every person you wished to see again. With a sly smile, she said she hoped the gentlemen had completed their homework. They could speak with as many ladies as they had cards to present.
Wes jostled the cards in his pocket. Since he and Tex had shared their cards with Hank, he didn’t have a full complement. That was okay. Aside from practice and politeness, he only wanted to speak with one lady present.
Ellen mingled among the crowd, breaking them into groups of four apiece, making introductions if needed. Millie called out a potential topic for discussion, such as books, music, family. She walked among the groups, listening without speaking.
When they finished three short conversations, Millie called them together again, made a few comments on the conversations she had overheard. At that point, the men were allowed to approach the ladies of their choice.
Wes fought the urge to rush to Millie’s side. The smart thing to do was to wait and see if any of the others were interested in her—or she in them. Her response would say a great deal about her feelings for Wes Harper.
Instead, she withdrew to a corner, surrounded by the chaperones. Any man who dared to face that crew needed courage. “Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.” “Thanks for the reminder,” he whispered, suspecting that talking to oneself broke one of the rules of etiquette.
To make his interest less obvious, he spoke briefly with a couple of ladies as he made his way to the matrons’ corner. The woman who must be Millie’s mother couldn’t be any more like her, nor any different. Their physical similarity was striking, but their resemblance ended there. He didn’t need his correspondence with Millie to tell him how much their personalities differed. Millie brimmed with life and joy, whereas Mrs. Cain reminded him of the schoolteacher who had tried to drum Latin into him. He never did learn much, not with a teacher who made him hate the subject.
No matter how much he learned from Millie’s class, he doubted he would ever meet Mrs. Cain’s approval. Very few men in Wichita, Kansas, would. Now that he had met his potential mother-in-law, he would add that obstacle to his prayer list.
He passed the piano on the way to their corner and noticed a bag of music laying on the bench. Since no one was watching, he peeked into the bag. Millie’s name was written inside a rather tattered hymnal, confirming the bag belonged to her. The book opened to one of his favorite hymns, “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing.” He flipped through the sheet music, interested in the variety of songs she brought with her. No cowboy songs, he noticed. She had probably never heard “Home on the Range” or “Old Paint.” Would it be “proper” for a group of students to sing along with Tex and his guitar? He reviewed the list of rules of conversation and decided it was an appropriate topic.
Grabbing the bag, he headed in Millie’s direction. “Miss Cain, I noticed this bag of music by the piano, which I believe belongs to you.”
She looked so pretty when she blushed. “Yes, it is mine. Thank you.”
“Have you decided whether you will sing for us before the end of the week? I would greatly enjoy it.”
Millie’s eyes slid sideways at the older ladies. “It is still under discussion.”
“Sentimental songs such as ‘My Grandfather’s Clock’ would be well received. With as many light drinkers and teetotalers such as myself, we have little need for tunes such as ‘Sons of Temperance.’” That last comment brought a slight smile on a couple of faces, including Millie’s.
“I’ll keep it in mind.” Standing, Millie excused herself from the matrons with a promise to end the class within a few minutes. When she strolled in the direction of the podium, Wes took advantage of a few moments to speak with her alone.
“I expect you will discuss the matters of social behavior between men and women in a future class, but I wanted to make my case now. Would you, Miss Cain, be willing to promenade down Main Street with me tomorrow afternoon?” He handed her a card, which remained unclaimed for several seconds.
Her mouth opened and closed, shock clearly written on her face. His hopes tumbled to the bottom of his chest.