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Go West~Chapter 18

Go West

by DiVoran Lites

Chapter Eighteen

Ellie

I have decided to start keeping a diary of the things that happen here. The latest is that Signora wants me to call her Lia. It’s her Christian name and she says we are girlfriends now .

Lia takes up a great deal of time that I feel should be spent doing real work to earn my pay. I am with her six or so hours every day and what do we accomplish? Nothing.

I’ve been working since I was old enough to stand on a chair beside Mother and wash dishes, while Grandmother and Granddad went downtown to tend the store. Later, I ran errands downtown. I then became old enough to learn the routines in every department, so that someday I could take over.

When I joined the The Women’s Ambulance Corpse during World War One, in my first attempt at independence, I worked harder than ever before. When the war ended, I went back to the store for several years, but by then, I’d had a taste of being my own person, and I needed to get away again. Granddad, who knew Signor Solano in bygone days, helped me get this job on the ranch. He said the work would be demanding, and at first it was. Now, however, I feel useless.

Here’s the problem: Lia has me wake her at ten with breakfast in bed. She then wants me to discuss clothing and jewelry so she will look nice for her step grandson, Enrico, when he comes to spend the day with her. When she is dressed to the nines, I’m to go and knock on his door to wake him. Once he’s up I go to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for him and bring it up to Lia’s suite. He keeps late hours away from the house. I don’t know where he goes or what he does, or even how he found something to do in this small community. Most of the day Signor is in his office, or out-of-doors with Aldon.

When Enrico comes to the suite, he brings an air of sensuality that melts me into a trickle of molten wax with no sense of boundary or direction. He takes my hand and raises it to his lips while looking deeply into my eyes. I must admit a frisson of pleasure runs through me when he says. “You are a most beautiful lady.” No one has ever told me that before.

“Lia’s perfume is Acqua de Parma Colonia which clings to her person, her clothes, and my nostrils. It affects me like the champagne I tasted once at a celebration.

Enrico and Lia drink wine and eat biscotti every afternoon, and they invite me to drink with them. I refuse. I think perhaps Enrico has had too much experience with women, and that for a married woman, Lia may not know much about men.

The records they play affect me deeply as well. Granddad took me to the opera many times, and when I hear Verdi and Puccini on Lia’s Victrola I fall in love with the composers over and over again.

I open the windows to let in a fresh breeze. That helps, of course, but Lia and Enrico soon call for me to close them. It’s not as if the room were a dark bistro, though. Lia, being a painter, loves splashes of light and shadow. She calls them chiaroscuro. That is why she arranges the curtains and dressing screens to provide a changing French Impressionist painting.

It is beautiful. Once I am in it, I hate to leave, though I must drag myself away to bring up their afternoon tea and sandwiches. Molly complains about having to cut off the crusts. When I go down to help her with supper, she grouses about my defection, as she calls it. I have to admit that my daytime activities do verge on debauchery. I have no idea where it will end.

I love to dance and have been teaching the two of them the Charleston and the Black Bottom. Lia purchased jazz records by mail before I came. She reads magazines and keeps up with what’s happening in the world of music. Enrico and Lia are like small children wanting the constant attention of an adult, and for some reason, I’ve been elected the adult.

“Please, Ellie,” Lia said one day as Enrico stepped away to put on a new record, “You will make me a flapper like you by cutting my hair?”

“I don’t think of myself as a flapper.” I objected. “But I will be glad to style your hair.”

“I do not mean to insult you. I want only to be modern millie for my Giovanni,” she pouted. “Before bed, he sits in my low rocking chair, his legs in their fine trousers stretched into the middle of the room. He watches me brush my hair. He says, ‘Oh, Lia, your hair is so long, and so curly.’ But he cares not a whit that it is heavy and hot. When he leaves to go to his own bed, he gives me a small kiss on the cheek. I feel then, like an abandoned rose in a garden of love. I sit in the chair where he has sat and look out at millions of diamonds in a black velvet sky, then I lie down in my bed alone.

I was taken aback. It seemed all her thoughts were of her husband. That was good, but it made her behavior with Enrico all the more puzzling.

“You do have wonderful hair,” I said. “Are you sure Signor won’t mind if we cut it? I turned her so I could study the shiny curls she now wore hanging to her waist. “I didn’t bring my hair cutting tools from the beauty salon. Can you wait until I send for them?”

“No, no, no, it must be cut this minute. I am sick to death and perishing from the heat. Look,” she parted the curtain of hair hanging down her back so I could see the redness on her neck. “Heat rash is it not?” she demanded.

“Yes, you’re right. You’ll be much more comfortable with it short and you will look just as pretty. I wonder where we could get a razor.”

“Let’s go. We’ll be back in a while, Enrico,” Lia grabbed me and pulled me toward the door. “Aldon has a straight razor. I saw it in the barn when I was with him.”

“You…?”

“Come, along, Aldon’s riding fence today, he will not miss a little borrow.” She grabbed a comb and headed for the door, and I followed, stunned. Aldon and Lia? No, it couldn’t be.

“We can’t go into Aldon’s quarters and take his razor without asking,” I said, as I followed her down the hallway.

“Oh, pooh, come, do not do the dawdle.” She waved her hand in dismissal of my scruples.

“Wait, we have to wet your hair, first.”

Go West~Chapter 17

Chapter 17 Shelf Road

Go West 

by DiVoran Lites

Chapter Seventeen

Ellie

The wagon swayed as Aldon took the reins to drive the mules onto the shelf road. He and Ellie were returning home the way they had come. The only other choice they had was to pick their way over a meadow strewn with rocks and runoff channels, either dried or filled with water, and Aldon had said the obstructions were camouflaged by grasses and wildflowers, and could trap a wheel or a hoof in an instant.

“Oh, my goodness! Look how far it is down to the creek. If either of us tumbled off the wagon we’d surely break our necks.” Ellie clung to the wagon seat until her knuckles turned white.

“Don’t look down. Look up there at timberline, instead. Anyhow, we’re almost over the shelf road where you’ll feel safer.”

“Why don’t trees grow up there,” she asked, looking where he had pointed.

“We think it’s the altitude.” Aldon said. “Hey, we’re here.” The mules pulled the wagon off the shelf road and onto a level trail.

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They arrived back at the ranch at four o’clock in the afternoon. Ellie was looking forward to a bath, and maybe a short rest, so Aldon let her off at the door saying he would unhitch the mules and take them home to Joe’s family.

When Ellie entered the kitchen, Molly was waiting for somebody to talk to about the day’s work.

“We caught three fat hens and butchered them. We saved the feathers for pillows. We dredged the pieces in eggs and flour and fried them. Now wait,” she held up her hand when she saw that Ellie was losing interest,. “that’s not all. We brought a peck of potatoes in from the root cellar and peeled, cut, cooked and mashed them. We’re bushed. Kate’s resting and I need your help finishing the supper.”

At six-o’clock, the back door opened and in came Aldon and Kenny.

“It’s about time you got here. Supper’s ready.” Molly said looking at Aldon, her eyes soft with a mother-like love. Ellie was reminded that Molly had never married or had children, and was suddenly glad that she’d been around to help rear Aldon, she was a good woman at heart, and she had helped to turn him into a special kind of man.

Aldon took Molly in his arms and waltzed her around the small amount of leftover space in the kitchen. When they got to the stove, Aldon stopped to admire the chicken and to peer into the other pot on the stove.

“Fried chicken and peas in cream sauce with new onions. Molly’s the best cook in the world.” He shot a glance at Ellie who smiled and nodded at his exuberance.

“Now, who’s been kissin’ the Blarney stone?” Molly put her head down, trying to look modest, but when she looked up, her shining eyes showed her pride.

“You’ve mentioned that Blarney Stone before, but I never thought to ask what a Blarney Stone was.” Aldon said.

“I do believe it’s about buttering people up and some bit rock in Ireland, but I really don’t know. My family just says it. None of us has been in Ireland for over a hundred years.” As Molly bustled over to check on the peas, the door from the dining room swung open and young Mr. Enrico walked in.

He came straight to Ellie, grabbed her hand, and kissed it. “Ciao, Signorina, how are you? Please tell me about your drive.” He continued to hold her hand.

Ellie looked at Aldon and caught sight of a scowl that would make a dog crawl under the table. When he realized she was reacting to his dour his expression, he forced a smile.

“Come on Kenny; let’s get washed up for supper.” Aldon and Kenny went out letting the screen door bang behind them. Ellie could hear their footsteps going up the side stairway.

“Signora Solano wants Aldon, Ellie, and the bambina to eat with us in the dining room.” Enrico dropped Ellie’s hand. “She says we will talk about the musicale we’re planning. The Fitzgerald boy will remain in the kitchen with the rest of the help.”

“Yes, Sir,” Molly said, her eyes narrowed in resentment. Ellie knew she must have been looking forward to having Aldon and Kenny to herself at the supper table.

“Check what we need in there.” Molly told her.

When Ellie came back, she reported that the Signora wanted them to serve tea right away and that they needed to think of a way to seat Seraphina tall enough so she’d be able to feed herself.

“Tea!” Molly put her fists on her hips and shook her head. “Get out some books and cover them with a towel for the bairn. Her highness wants to train her to be a great lady. That’s probably the reason for the tea party. Oh, well, I’ll put the kettle on, and you see to the cups and saucers. When you finish, go ahead and get into your prettiest dress. You’re dining with royalty tonight.”

“All I have is my suit skirt and blouse, or one of my work dresses.

“Oh, I’d say the blue skirt and white shirtwaist. They like to dress up and that’s the best you have, which is plenty good enough.” Molly grabbed a dishtowel, wrapped it around the handle of the chicken skillet, and slid it into the warming oven.

Go West~Chapter 16

Chapter 16 Elle and Violin

Go West 

by DiVoran Lites

Chapter Sixteen

Aldon

“All the guys seem to be down for the night, but I’m not ready to sleep, yet, are you?” Ellie asked when they got back to camp.

“No, let’s play some music,” he said.

“Could we play softly enough not to disturb the men?” Ellie’s brow wrinkled.

“Once they prop their heads on their saddles, nothing short of a stampede could wake them. We’ll go get the instruments.” He took her to the chuck wagon and found her violin case.

“I’ll get the chairs from the cabin and we can sit out here and look at the moon while we play.” Ellie wrapped a scarf around her head, and Aldon left his Stetson on.

“We haven’t played together before.” Ellie arranged herself in the chair with her violin at the ready. “What songs do you know?”

“Turkey in the Straw.” He concentrated on tuning his mandolin and then struck up a chord.

They played together fast, faster, fastest, until their fingers tripped over the strings and the two of them broke down laughing.

Aldon strummed the chords to, “Springtime in the Rockies,” and Ellie sang along. Afterward, she told him that her grandfather had sung the song every morning when she drove him and her grandmother work. A loud snore came from the circle around the campfire, and Aldon and Ellie snickered.

“At least our music is good enough to keep folks sleeping,” Aldon said.

Ellie’s violin bow slowed as she began to play something soft and haunting. Aldon rested his mandolin against the leg of his chair and closed his eyes so he could listen with all his mind and heart. What richness Aldon heard, what depth. At first, it was like an ancient Irish melody exploring every corner of his soul. Later, it danced between joy and sadness, putting him in a place where he felt fully contented with an occasional edge of yearning that pierced him to the soles of his feet.

The high peaks against the evening sky, the shimmer of moon, and the soft flap of a white owl put the cream on his happiness. He surveyed his mountains, his cabin, his neighbors around the fire, and his woman playing the violin like a master. But no, Ellie was not his woman, she was only the most beautiful and exciting woman he had known.

Finally, the music recalled to mind a child gamboling down a hill, full of energy and glee. When the piece ended, the night was silent except for snores and the lowing of a cow grazing in the meadow.

Ellie sighed. She rose and putting her violin away, she walked with it across the clearing, past the men, and up onto the wooden porch of the cabin.
Ellie

Ellie entered a room bathed in moonlight. The tang of vinegar assailed her sense of smell, and she wondered if someone, such as Kenny, had cleaned with it while she and Aldon were at the pond. Looking around, she spotted a kerosene lamp with a Prince Albert can lying beside it. Grandad had told her how you had to keep Lucifer sticks dry, so she took a chance that instead of tobacco, the tin contained matches. She removed the lamp’s shining glass chimney, and turned up the wick so she could light it.

The extra illumination showed a single bed in one corner. She walked over to it and sat down on a star-pattern quilt that covered it. What a work of art! Grandmother could sell a quilt like this for an excellent price.

Ellie heard a gentle tap on the cabin door, and when she opened it, Aldon stood there with the chairs from outside.

“Let me put these where they belong and light the fire. Will you be okay?” he asked his voice gentle. “Is the cabin clean?”

“Yes, everything’s fine. Thank you for taking such good care of me.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said. When Aldon finished his small chores, Ellie closed the door behind him and went to the four-paned window to watch him walk away. It’s too bad I couldn’t have asked him to stay so we could talk, she thought. But what would the men have thought?

         When she turned down the bed, intending to get in with all her clothes on, she felt three more quilts. They knew they must be exquisite too, but she didn’t have the energy to examine them.

At the edge of sleep, Ellie found herself drifting over a misty pond. Then she was no longer alone. She was pounding the arm that held her, Aldon’s arm. She felt no sense of panic or fear, though. There was nothing to fear from him. Soon she was in his arms soaking up love and heat. She drifted into a dream about a white owl flying through the night making a whooshing sound with its big wings.

         The next morning when Aldon rapped on the door again, Ellie felt as if she’d only slept for an hour. She snuggled down and put the heavy goose-down pillow over her head. But somehow, she could still hear his voice when he called to her.

         “Ellie, I’ve brought you some warmer clothes.” Aldon said opening the door slightly, “I’ll lay them here.

“It’s not morning yet,” she called. There was no answer. He had gone away, and knowing it was her duty to get up and help Kenny cook breakfast for the men, she forced her feet onto the cold floor. For a moment, her mind went back to France during the war where everyone suffered cold and hunger. The sounds of men getting up brought back the cold and snow crisp on her cape and face as she tied bandages and comforted dying men. She hadn’t shirked then, and she wouldn’t shirk now.

With her arms wrapped around herself, she hurried to the pile of folded clothes and put on long-johns, stockings, trousers, a too large, hand-knit sweater, and boots. She added Aldon’s sheepskin jacket, which had become her favorite item of clothing.

When she got to the main campfire, she and Kenny prepared bacon, eggs, flapjacks, and left-over beans. When the cattle had all been seen to, Aldon joined her in on the chuck wagon seat, but insisted she drive.