Chapter 7

Two weeks went by, and no one came asking about Millie. School was going very well, in Millie's opinion. The town fathers apparently thought so too, because she was provided with fifty cents credit at the general store each week. Of course the town fathers didn't know Boots was a student too. They'd have probably laughed at the idea, but Mille was quite happy with the progress her friend was making.

Bob showed up at school one day and asked if he could borrow the three thirteen-year-old boys, Chauncey, Benjamin and Michael for a little while. Since they were normally the source of most of the unrest in the classroom, Millie just waved at them to go with him.

He had them take the copper tub back to her house. He also supervised while they made several repairs to the house and the privy. Nobody had to tell them this was part of their 'sentence' for what they'd done to Millie. They had all fallen madly in love with her anyway, and were happy to do anything for her. That, in fact, was the source of most of the unrest they caused in school, as each one tried to get the attention of the woman he was sweet on.

Millie became even more valuable to the town when one of the townspeople sought her aid in another manner. It happened one Tuesday when Millie and Boots left the schoolhouse at the end of the day and found Minerva Skelton waiting for them outside. Minerva was the proprietor of the Silver Dollar Saloon, which not only served beer and spirits but had girls and rooms upstairs over the noisy dance floor. The Silver Dollar was tolerated by most people in town, but for different reasons. For one thing, it was the only source of hard liquor within a hundred miles, and that brought cowboys to town, with the little money they had. But a little money was better than none, and the merchants in town were happy to take it from them. And if Minerva got it first ... well she had to feed, clothe and see to the other needs of the girls, so it all trickled downhill anyway.

Then there was the fact that frontier men, by and large, were rough, smelly and unaccomplished lovers. While a woman might marry one of them to secure her future, that didn't mean she enjoyed what he might require of her in bed. Other than getting with child, a surprising number of frontier women were just as happy that her man sought his pleasure over the saloon, and therefore left her alone.

Then of course there was the fact that, every so often, a cowboy might decide to strike out on his own, and seek a wife to go with him. Men like that were much more likely to try to woo one of Minerva's young women, rather than the daughter of a local resident or rancher, which was just fine with the local residents and ranchers.

So in spite of their dismal morals, Minerva and her girls were, for the most part, welcome in town.

Boots, however, wasn't one of those people who tolerated Minerva's cathouse well.

"Whut do you want?" she growled at the woman, who was dressed in what passed for finery in Beaverton.

Minerva's spine was straight and her head held high. Minerva thought of herself as a businesswoman first, and a surrogate mother to her ladies second.

"I have need of the school mistress to assist me," she said, frostily. Minerva had no use for Boots either. She saw the leather-clad woman as a mannish, foul-mouthed, dangerously erratic person. "Your presence will not be required," she said, dismissively.

"Whut could an old, ugly whore like you want with a nice young woman like Millie?" asked Boots belligerently.

"Ladies, ladies!" said Millie, holding up a hand toward each woman. "Let us please refrain from unhappy dealings." She put a hand on Boots' right arm, which the woman had unconsciously and instinctively positioned so that her hand was hovering near the handle of her six-gun. "How can I help you, Mrs. Skelton?"

Minerva sniffed, but held out a piece of paper to Millie.

"It's Miss Skelton. I never married. I don't read much past what it takes to run my business," she said, without a trace of embarrassment. "One of my ladies got this from the mail bag on the stage, and it's beyond my ability to decipher. Your help would be greatly appreciated."

Millie took the page and looked at it. She recognized it as having been prepared on one of the new Sholes & Glidden Type Writer machines that was favored by newspapermen and lawyers, and then blinked as she wondered how she knew that. Things like that frustrated her, so she went back to examining the letter. It was on letterhead of an attorney in Dallas, Texas. She glanced over it. It was filled with words like "wherefore" and "whereas" and "let it be adjudged that." She read silently for a moment.

"It's a letter to someone named Thomas Witherspoon, stating that his father's will has passed title to him for a farm, consisting of 165 acres in Washau County, Texas. It has the legal description of the land and says that, other than the land and whatever is on it, there is nothing else of value listed in the will. There is also a handwritten addendum to it at the bottom." She started reading.

To Ruby Mae Witherspoon. Ruby, the bastard is dead. He died a week ago in his sleep, and didn't even have no help from me, though I'd sorely have loved to help him along on his way to hell. I know you have a successful life keeping store in that town up there in Nebraska, but now that papa is gone I need you here to help me keep this farm. He can't hurt you no more, Ruby. I've been doing most of the work anyways, and I'm sure we can make a go of it if you'll just come back home to help me. You didn't never send me any word that you got hitched or anything, so I hope you can get on a stagecoach and come on back home to Texas.

Your brother, Tom

Millie looked up at Minerva, who nodded. Her mouth was a tight, straight line.

"Ruby came to me three years ago," she said. "Her father took liberties with her, and she ran away from home. I've been taking care of her since."

Boots snorted. "You call selling her ass to every cowboy that comes along taking care of her?"

Minerva shot a scathing look at Boots. "Her father taught her what is expected of women. He gave her nothing but bruises for it. She has been happy and safe here. Before you try to correct your betters, you should get all the facts."

Millie held up her hands again, trying to keep the peace.

"In any case, what she has been sent appears to be from her brother. He'd like her to return home."

"She ain't gonna let one of her cash cows go," complained Boots.

"I most certainly will!" snapped Minerva. "You wouldn't know anything about caring for another human being, but I care deeply for those girls. I want only what's best for them!"

Millie's hand went back to Boots' arm. Her hand squeezed gently.

"If that's all you need?" she said, looking at Minerva and holding the letter out to her.

"Yes. Thank you," said the woman, who took the paper, turned and stalked off.

"What was that stuff in there about keeping store?" asked Boots. "She's a whore, not a shopkeeper."

"I suspect she didn't want her brother to know how she was really employed," said Millie.

"Yeah, I guess that would be true," said Boots.

"You didn't have to call her a whore," said Millie, meaning the woman they had just spoken with.

"It's whut she is," said Boots.

"Sometimes being polite is more important than being truthful," said Millie.

Millie and Boots were now fast friends. Most other people in town didn't have much interaction with their new schoolmarm. Part of that was because of the circumstances of her arrival. Most folks didn't know what to say to a woman who had basically been assaulted into staying in town. Part of it was people's natural reticence around strangers, which Millie still was, to almost everyone. Her students, however, loved her and learning the things she taught them.