Chapter 3: Naughty & Nice

As we dressed for the Christmas Eve event, Rebecca was trying to tamp down a big grin.

She said, “Miss Melanie.”

“Okay.”

“We all agreed that the Gilmore Girls will spend time with her first. Since they don’t have sleeping companions.” She burst into laughter, “Like me and Rosie.”

“Okay.”

Rebecca was a little giddy. Partly the idea of another romp or two with Miss Melanie. But also tonight’s gala at the Ming Opera House. And tomorrow was Christmas with presents and the tall, fat tree in the hotel lobby.

We could have walked, but Autry had arranged for a six-mule carriage to ferry us to the party. He and Cayuse and I sat up front while the Gilmore Girls, the Robinsons, Mrs. Chambers, and Miss Melanie scooted under colorful lap robes. Made, I believe, out of horsehair.

A lot of giggling and whispering and outright laughter. Autry had a small smile on his face; proud to be hosting us in his hometown.

I’d heard of the Ming Opera house even back in Little River. Autry told Cayuse and me, “Built by the most prominent cattleman in the Territory — John H. Ming. We’ll be meeting with his head foreman the day after Christmas.”

As we pulled up to the Jackson Street building, the ladies in back gasped and then cheered. Quite a sight — white in front with two entry columns that were three stories high. Tall, gold-colored doors.

We stood there, looking up, and Autry told our little crowd, “Seats almost a thousand. First performance was “The Old Curiosity Shop.”

Molly said, “Charles Dickens.”

“That’s right. And guess who played two different parts?”

“Who?”

“Katie Putnam.”

Even I had heard of her, which meant she was famous.

Emma said, “Here? In Helena?”

“She loved Helena. Started performing here for the troops back in the 70s. Back when things were still very primitive. Let’s go inside, I’ll show you the poem she wrote for opening night.”

We trooped up the stairs, Autry leading the way.

The opera house was magnificent, even by Indianapolis standards. And Kansas City too, judging by the way Rebecca and Rosie were staring.

Autry said, “It’s sold out tonight.”

The place was laid out in a circular plan with over a hundred gas lights. Red leather seats.

Molly pointed, “Look! Those curtains are hand-painted.”

Autry led us over to a framed document hanging in the lobby. Riles asked, “Katie Putnam?”

Autry beamed. Emma strode over to it and began reading in a dramatic fashion, flinging her arms around. Several people turned to look.

“When first a Pilgrim to this town I came—

A very fresh and tender-footed dame—

A Bridge Street cabin was the only stage

Where Farce could roar, or Tragedy could rage;

An earthen floor, the sides of unhewn logs,

We charged for men—admittance free for dogs,

Where tender love scenes in the tragic lay

Were interrupted by the pack mule’s bray,

And the prima donna’s warble clear

On the high “C” and upper register,

Was ruined by the Sunday auctioneer.”

Emma looked at Autry, surprised, “That is so sweet. I guess she really does love Helena. Not bad, Georgie, not bad.”

He turned to Cayuse and me, “Want to see how the lights work?”

He led us through an unmarked door, down some steps to the basement. Emma tagged along, always curious. There was a large mechanical contraption that hooked up to a maze of rubber tubing.

Autry said, “There are 120 gas lights, 120 gas delivery tubes.”

Emma smiled, “Not bad, Georgie, not bad.”

Back upstairs, still playing host, he escorted all of us down an aisle to front-row seats. Emma patted his butt, “Not bad, Georgie, not bad.”

Mrs. Chambers smiled to herself.

Autry stood in front of us and said, “We’ve had comedies, operas, dramas, magicians, musicals, Shakespeare. The Ming Opera Orchestra usually plays classical music, but tonight it’s Christmas carols. With the Town Chorus leading the way. But it’s a singalong, we want everyone to join in.”

My mother winked at me; she knew I wasn’t much of a fan of classical music even though the Gilmore Girls had dragged me to a few performances back home. So that part was good, the Christmas carols.

It really was a festive night. Rebecca put her arm through mine. Rosie held hands with Cayuse. Emma snuggled up to Miss Melanie, paying no attention to the neighboring whispers she was causing.

The Town Chorus was composed of children — boys as well as girls, maybe 8 to 15 years old or so. Riles whispered, ‘Little angels. Angels in white robes.” She shot a significant glance at Rebecca.

The carols were familiar, and childhood memories from Indianapolis flooded in. Laughter and presents and teasing and a big tree with some decorations that had been in our family for generations.

Tonight it was “It Came Upon the Midnight Clear” and “O Little Town of Bethlehem” and “Jingle Bells”.

Our little group was as enthusiastic as the rest of the crowd — happy voices really belting it out. Although Cayuse and I ... well, we mostly just mimed.

The orchestra and chorus took a short break and returned with “Amazing Grace”. This one was performed by the chorus only, no singing along.

Rebecca squeezed my arm; we both remembered the traveling road show — ‘The Amazing Lazarus’ — that had stunned the crowd back in Little River. The man with no arms and no legs had sung the hymn; and more than a few citizens had tears streaming down their cheeks.

But here, on Christmas Eve, the song seemed more ... I guess solemn is the word. More solemn than sad.

The chorus quickly switched to “Away in a Manger” and “We Three Kings of Orient Are”. The final carol, and the most popular judging from the loudness factor, was “Go Tell it on the Mountain”.

The Ming Opera Orchestra realized they had a winner to go out on and played it a second time to an even more rousing reception.

On the carriage ride back to the hotel, Autry told us, “The opera house has only been open for seven years and already the Masons are talking about buying it.”

The Masons. That reminded me of the EagleLeague. Which was rumored to be modeled on the Masonic organization. Except the EagleLeague allowed women and coloreds to join.

For some odd reason, I flashed on the bald eagles that I’d seen every time we got off the train. An omen? A sign? I scoffed to myself. Silly. But I still looked carefully around as we entered the Steamboat Block. I noticed Cayuse was doing the same thing. No surprise there.

Christmas day was so jolly that it could have been easy for me to forget about the two challenges we faced. The local axe murders and the vague threat from the EagleLeague.

Well, not much to do except try to prevent any more slayings. And to remain watchful for someone — we didn’t know who, didn’t even know how many — who might be seeking revenge on me.

The Lenoir Hotel had a piano in the lobby and the Gilmore Girls took turns playing the same carols we’d heard the night before. Other guests joined in the singing and it felt a lot like Christmas at home. The hotel’s big Scotch Pine was full and filled with candles and streamers, with a white angel at the very top.

My mother took a break from piano duty and smiled at me, “Want a turn?”

Emma laughed — the Gilmore Girls had started me with lessons on our living room piano, but my fingers were already too big. Too big and clumsy. I think Miss Havisham was probably relieved when those particular lessons came to an end.

Rebecca and Rosie stood a little off to the side with a sort of wistful look. I guess their family hadn’t had a piano back in Kansas City. But Molly quickly cheered them up, got them singing along.

Cayuse and I stood by quietly, out of the way.

As we were leaving the lobby, Emma gave the hotel boy, Barney Feiffer, a little box of chocolates wrapped in a big red bow. “Merry Christmas, Barnyard. Have you been naughty or nice?”

He turned bright red. He was already smitten with her and it had only been a week.

The highlight of the gift-giving was when Cayuse and I each gave a bracelet to Rosie and Rebecca. The bracelets were stunning — silver surrounding a band of the deepest blue. Molly said, “Lapis lazuli,” and I guess she would know. The Gilmore girls had brought the presents with them when they came west on the train from Indianapolis.

The bracelets were inside light blue boxes. Riles said, “Tiffany and Company,” and I guess that was the name of the store they came from. Although I didn’t remember a shop by that name back home.

In any case, Rebecca and Rosie were stunned. Awed. Cayuse and I didn’t even consider trying to take credit for the gifts; it was obvious that the Gilmore Girls were the source.

Emma winked at me and whispered in my ear, “Got to keep the pussy happy, Flinty.”

I blushed a deep red.

I wondered if it was the first wrapped gift that Cayuse had given anyone.

The day after the festivities, Autry introduced all of us to the top foreman working for the cattle rancher, John H. Ming. This gent was tall and skinny with leathery skin from spending so much time outdoors.

We met in that second floor room again and settled in around the table.

Autry said, “This is Percy Calhoun, head honcho of the biggest operation in Montana.”

He nodded to the ladies, “Everyone calls me Rawhide.”

Emma smiled, “And so shall we, Rawhide, so shall we.”

“The marshal asked me to meet with you because you’re working on those murders. Seven of my men visited the three brothels on those two nights. I’ve arranged for you to meet them, get their recollections.”

Riles smiled, “Thank you, Rawhide, that’s very generous.”

“Well, this is a slow time for us.” He shook his head, “And not just because it’s winter. Last year in the great Die-Up we lost three out of every four head of cattle we owned.”

Molly said, “The great Die-Up?’’

“Some newspaper fella come up with it. I guess it’s a pun or something, playing off of ‘roundup’.” He shook his head again, “We lost near all of our herds — those that didn’t freeze to death, starved to death.”

Mrs. Chambers said, “How awful. Little River got through it okay; there weren’t that many cattle — just some homesteaders, and they finally gave up earlier this year.”