Ada's Secret (16 page)

She bowed her head in thought for a moment and when she looked up again her radiant eyes met mine. “Duke!” Mother called out to the big old ram. “Duke, get your flock ready. We are moving to Colorado!”

***

T
he decision to move rejuvenated Mother Burgess. Once again she stood straight and tall, and the work we had been doing outdoors seemed to bring color to her cheeks. Mother knew all the things that needed to be done in next few months and was determined to finish them all.

“We are ready to fix the fences, but it is such hard work that we will have to wait for one of the neighbor men. I do wish we could get it done because I think a storm is settling in. If we don’t get the fences done tomorrow, I’m afraid we will be at least a week behind our schedule,” Mother said after dinner one night.

“Fences aren’t really that hard,” I said, watching her quietly. “I think we can do it ourselves, but skirts and petticoats won’t be the dress of the day.”

She shot a questioning glance at me as I went upstairs and brought the valued dungarees down from my bedroom.

“Mother, you were honest about your life; now it’s time for me to be honest about mine,” I said as I laid my dungarees on the dark, polished wood of her dining room table. “I don’t know how much Patrick told you about me, but one very special thing I do is wear dungarees when I do heavy work outside.”

The thought tickled mother, and she started laughing, but taking a second look at my serious expression, she realized I wasn’t kidding. I motioned to the dungarees on the table and she eyed them as though they were some kind of poisonous snake. “Go ahead. Touch them. They don’t bite,” I teased.

Mother tested the legs and pulled on the ties. “You really have the nerve to wear these?” Mother laughed as she explored the pockets and seams of the sturdy clothing.

“Patrick said he wrote you about the time I rode Sheba bareback to go help deliver little Nathaniel Teller. He doesn’t allow me to wear them in town, but after that he realized how much work we could do together when I had on dungarees instead of skirts,” I said.

“Well,” Mother said with a slow nod of her head. “I hired you to get the work done, and I didn’t say that you had to wear petticoats while you were doing it. So if we are going to create a scandal, let’s do it and get those fences tight before it rains.”

The next day, I donned my dungarees and straddled the fences as we wrestled the rails into position and hammered each one in place. The fence posts were solid, but the rails needed lots of hard work. Mother helped me as much as she could, but soon she was trying to tie her work dress between her legs and fashion makeshift pant legs.

“Mother?” I asked her as we ate lunch beside the split rails. “Does it bother you that I wear dungarees?” Shyly, she tucked my dungaree leg down into my boot. Suddenly, a smile lit up her face.

“Do you think I could get a pair for myself? I’m tired of working all day long and then spending my evenings mending dresses and petticoats. I have no intention to make you do all the heavy work without my help.” That afternoon, we ordered her a set of dungarees, heavy work boots, and a black Stetson with a silver hatband from Sears and Roebuck.

January and February quickly slipped away as Mother and I painted and polished the old place back to its former glory. Many of Mother’s friends were appalled at her plans to move west. “They are heathens and ruffians. The frontier is no place for a civilized woman,” they admonished her.

Mother laughed and said, “Ada is the most civilized woman I know, and she lives there.”

***

M
arch soon arrived with its usual bluster. “Mother, we’d better get to town,” I said. “Patrick will be expecting us in a few weeks and we need to re-negotiate the ranch sale and get the rail passage for the sheep.”

“What do you mean re-negotiate the sale of the ranch? Mr. Johnson made it very clear that his offer was final. All that is left is to turn over the deed and collect the funds,” Mother said.

“Mother, I have some negotiating skills. They are not exactly polite, but taking advantage of a widow is not polite either. Tomorrow we’ll go to the bank. By the way, I will be wearing my dungarees, and the sheriff will probably throw me out of town, but Mr. Johnson will have to negotiate with someone wearing trousers,” I laughed.

The next day, dressed in my dungarees, heavy work boots, and black Stetson with the silver and turquoise hatband, I was ready to go to town. Making sure my auburn hair would be visible so there would be no doubt of my gender, I checked my blouse and knotted a blue bandanna suggestively over my cleavage. Once the horse was hitched to the buggy, I called, “Ready, Mother?” I turned expecting her to be standing in her best church dress, waiting to be assisted into the buggy.

“Holy Mother of God!” I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw Mother standing on the porch. A black felt Stetson held her long hair in place as it flowed down to her waist. She had a corset on under her open blouse that accentuated her already ample cleavage, and a red bandanna was knotted at her throat and tucked suggestively into her open blouse. The dark, substantial fabric of her dungarees fit snugly into her heavy, western-style boots, and her dark cocoa eyes flashed as she glided down the porch steps.

“How do I look?” she said somewhat self-consciously.

“Mother!” I exclaimed. “You look amazing! You are gorgeous, and those dungarees really show off your figure, but I don’t know if you really want to go to town wearing them. Speaking from experience, most people don’t appreciate women wearing them, and they aren’t shy about showing it.”

Mother laughed. “Blessed are those women who are persecuted for wearing pants. It’s time that people take me seriously, and if I need to wear pants to make that happen, let it begin.”

I swallowed hard and cautioned, “Are you sure? The men at the bank will really hate this, and the sheriff will probably throw both of us out of town.”

“Ada, I’ve spent my life being a good little woman. I have allowed others to abuse my son and me. I see now that it doesn’t have to be this way. Men shouldn’t take advantage of women, just because they can. No, I’m moving to Colorado, and hopefully, I will never see those sons-of-bitches again. By the way dear, you look lovely—can we go now?”

“Mother,” I said haltingly as we trotted the little black mare out of the ranch. “There is something you need to know about me. I am a honorable woman, but I was raised by prostitutes.”

Mother’s eyes lit up. “I figured there was something you were hiding. Girls just don’t have the skills you do without having a spectacular story to go along with them. Makes no difference; I am very proud to call you my daughter, no matter who raised you. You can tell me the whole story on our way to town, and don’t skimp on the details.”

I told her everything as the little black mare pulled the buggy along the road. I didn’t know how she would take it, but she nodded supportively as I bared my soul to her. When we saw the town on the horizon, I asked her one more time, “Are you really sure about this?” She just smiled and nodded her head in the direction of the buildings.

When we reached the bank, I whispered, “OK Mother. Show time.” We stepped out of the buggy, then tied the little mare to the hitching post. People pleasantly nodded at first, and then women gasped and men covered children’s eyes as Mother Burgess and I strode on the boardwalk.

“Hopefully, the Sheriff is out of town,” I giggled to Mother. “Looks like we are causing quite a stir,” I said as we walked through the front door of the bank.

I stood at the manager’s desk and cleared my throat. In a loud voice that everyone in the bank could hear I addressed the nervous manager, “I hear you’ve negotiated an offer for the Burgess land.”

“We all know that you are stealing from this good woman in her hour of desperation, and we need to talk about a fair settlement. We are in a bit of a hurry and want to close the deal quickly, but I must insist that you add another five thousand dollars to the offer.”

Catching the eyes of each customer in the bank, I continued, “The land alone is worth ten thousand. The barn, house, and all of the fences are in excellent condition, so we all know that you would still be taking advantage of this good woman at a mere fifteen thousand, but as I said we are in a hurry and willing to settle for less today.”

I signaled to mother, and we settled ourselves into two overstuffed wingback chairs positioned in front of the manager’s desk. As we turned our chairs toward the bank patrons, we made sure every last employee was able to view our performance as we brashly crossed our dungaree-clad legs.

Still using my strongest voice, I continued, “We are quite comfortable now. Run along now; we’ll wait until you can get all the money together.”

It was a busy day at the bank, and as customers entered and gawked at our attire, I would call out, “Come on in, honey. Don’t tell me this is your first time seeing ladies in dungarees.”

The manager turned ashen shade of grey, and I really thought he was going to faint as he tripped over his own feet. As quickly as he could, he scurried away to find the bank president and owner, Mr. Norman Johnson. Mother blanched a bit as Mr. Johnson blustered in alone. I held out my hand and with a rather un-lady like grip to my handshake and a sneer of contempt on my face, I met his pale blue eyes until he looked away in discomfort. His thinning hair accented a red, perspiring face. He nervously wiped his clammy palms on his handkerchief while flashing a smile in an attempt to gain the upper hand.

“Mrs. Burgess, I am so sorry about your husband’s passing. He was such a good man, and he will be greatly missed.” Turning to me, he smiled. “You must be Ada. I heard Mrs. Burgess’ new daughter-in-law had come to help out. We haven’t seen Patrick around here for quite a while. Where is he?” he said, as he looked me up and down. I knew that look. He was undressing me with his eyes just like the patrons did to the ladies at the Silver Dove. Because I was a woman with flowing red hair, and no visible husband, he was taking mental liberties with his judgments about me.

I think we can make this work for us,
I thought to myself.
This old weasel has already fallen into my trap.

His eyes glittered with thinly disguised lechery as he said, “My name is Norman Johnson, but everyone calls me Buck. Get it? Like bucks at a bank,” he laughed, but neither Mother nor I responded. He fumbled with some papers on the manager’s desk as he turned his attention to Mother.

Speaking with sticky sweetness, he tried to look into Mother’s eyes, but his attention was ensnared in her cleavage. “Now dear Mrs. Burgess, I know this has been a difficult time, but I fear that I need to remind you of the terms of our agreement,” as he sat down behind the manager’s desk.

A greasy smile crossed his thin lips, showing crooked yellow teeth. “I’m sure you must remember the price we agreed on was ten thousand dollars. That is a fair price for the condition your farm is in. I am willing to keep my end of the bargain, and if you can step into my office, I will have the funds available within the hour.” His eyes took in every inch of her bountiful attributes, but Mother held her own under his scrutiny and settled deeper into the chair.

“I’m quite comfortable right here. Aren’t you dear?” she asked me as I stood and walked around the manager’s desk. I sat on the corner of the desk, one leg suggestively dangling next to Buck’s chair. I heard several of the bank customers gasp with surprise.

Feigning demureness, I replied, “Buck, I don’t think you heard the final terms of our offer. Our price is fifteen thousand, and you know it’s a fair price. You’ve probably heard about the repairs we’ve done because everyone tells us how much better the ranch looks. I’m sure you wouldn’t dare take advantage of a poor widow at such a difficult time, would you?”

I stood and leaned over the bank president bringing my face within inches of his. Speaking seductively, I gasped, “Wait, Mother. Why, I remember Buck. I thought he looked familiar.” Wagging my finger at him with a shameful shake, I raised my voice just a bit; “You lost quite a bundle that night at Miss Rose’s poker table in Denver.” Lowering my voice to a suggestive whisper, I let my lips brush fleetingly past his ear, “As I remember, that isn’t all you lost at the Silver Dove. Aunt Lettie will be so glad to know that we are doing business with one of her preferred customers.”

Abruptly he stood, and with his back to the rest of the bank, he raised a sweaty palm to silence me. Buck was shaking with fear, like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. My ruse had worked!

“All right, all right,” he whispered, as hissing through his teeth like a snake. He collected himself and mopped his sweaty brow. Speaking loud enough that everyone in the bank could plainly hear, he said, “Mrs. Burgess, I can see how difficult the passing of your dear husband has been. We both know that land values change almost daily, and I might have overlooked some of the outbuildings in my original offer.” His eyes beseeched us as he continued, “If you will please step into my office, I will have all of your funds ready in twenty minutes.”

I smiled sweetly and threw a triumphant grin to Mother Burgess as we followed Buck proudly into his office. Within twenty minutes, we were walking up the street toward the rail station with our money secure in a small leather briefcase that Mr. Johnson had given us “as a token of his appreciation.”

“Did you really see Mr. Johnson at the Silver Dove?” Mother asked.

“Oh dear, no.” I smiled at Mother. “Lettie and Ma, never let me near the saloon when there were customers there. Since the Silver Dove is the finest gentlemen’s establishment west of the Mississippi, I took a chance that a fancy banker like Buck Johnson might have partaken of the services there. “I still can’t believe it worked so easily. Too bad, because I was prepared to get even louder.” Giggling like naughty schoolgirls, we entered the railroad station.

The stationmaster didn’t need much urging to get us out of his office. He quickly figured the cost for three hundred head of sheep to be transported from Vermont to Denver and didn’t count the money until we had gone.