Fourteen
(warning - spanking of a child)
Sydney Tuttwell's habit was to remain at her desk well past dismissal time grading papers and readying her teaching plan for the following day. However this day, she determined it would be prudent to walk home with Matilda.
When she entered the principal's office that man was again lecturing the child. It was not without surprise that she noted the little girl's eyes had glazed over, and she had no doubt long ago tuned out the principal's words.
"I'm sorry to interrupt you Principal Groendyke, but I have come to escort Matilda back to the boarding house, I will of course make her father fully aware of today's events."
Matilda gave Miss Tuttwell a wary look, thinking, with sinking heart that the teacher had turned back to a dragon lady.
Groendyke's furrowed brow narrowed making it appear he had only one long eyebrow that sunk in the center of his forehead. "Please tell Mr. Dillon, we will not tolerate the child's behavior and further indiscretions will be dealt with swift corporal punishment."
"I will tell him." she said, turning to the child she bade, "Matilda, come with me"
Matilda had no fight left in her; her only desire at that point was to escape to the sanctity of her room and the comfort of her doll, Miss Kitty. She did as she was told.
Miss Tuttwell walked fast, and Matilda had to run to keep up with the pace. For the most part few words were exchanged until they were back on Front Street about a block away from Ma Smalley's. "Tonight after supper we'll start your reading lessons."
"Are you going to tell HIM about teaching me to read?"
"Him? Mr. Groendyke?"
"No, Matt Dillon..."
"Not if you don't want me to ... are you planning to surprise him?"
Matilda shook her head but offered no other explanation and the teacher decided against forcing the issue.
They entered the boarding house through the back kitchen door. The smell of pot roast and onions hung in the air, Ma stood against the counter pealing potatoes. She offered a welcoming smile and a questioning look in the teacher's direction. "How did things go?"
"All things considered, I believe Matilda handled herself quite well."
Ma's face relaxed, "Would you like some milk and cookies child?"
Some of the stress of her bad day started to leave her. The little girl nodded her head and then found her voice, "Yes ma'am."
"Get the milk from the icebox, and I'll get you a glass, Miss Tuttwell, would you care for some?"
"I'm not much for sweets Mrs. Smalley, I'll save my appetite for later. I'll see you at dinner Matilda."
"Cookies are in the cookie jar, you may take three." Ma said as she poured the milk.
"Would you like a cookie too?" Matilda asked, and Ma got the strong feeling that the child wanted someone to sit down with her and talk. The trouble was at this time of day, Ma had a dozen and one things to get done so she could get supper on the table. Still, she hated to disappoint the child. However as she looked up she saw Dillon's shadow walking toward the screen door.
"Here comes your Pa, I'll bet he'd like some cookies."
Matilda reached in the jar and extracted three more cookies. She turned to smile as her father walked through the door. The look on his face caused the cookies to drop from her hand.
There was no doubt Matt Dillon was angry. Like Ma's beef it had been stewing since he'd left the Krump's kitchen. It was fairly bubbling over at this point. Dillon had been a proponent of spanking. Over his years in law enforcement, he'd encouraged parents to place a firm hand on a firm bottom as discipline for naughty children. After hearing his daughter had spent the afternoon in the principal's office, Matt had little doubt what he needed to do. It was time after all, the child had run roughshod over half of Dodge making him a laughing stock in his own town.
His frame seemed to take over the entire doorway and even Ma cringed at the imposing site an agitated Matt Dillon made.
There were no words of greeting, he cut right to the chase, "I understand you got into a fight at school today."
"Not exactly." she replied.
"You pushed the Bodkin girl to the ground, didn't you?"
Yes, but she deserved it."
"There's no excuse for fighting."
Matilda's mouth formed a straight line, so reminiscent of her mother that had Dillon noticed, it would have melted the anger in his heart, as it was he was too mad to take note of anything other than the job he was set to do.
He sat down on one of Ma's kitchen chairs, "Come here Matilda."
She shook her head, the red curls bobbed, "No."
"I said come here."
Her little heart beat faster and she stole a glance at Ma, hoping that kind lady would put in a good word for her. But Ma hastily turned around and began stirring the stew.
She stiffened her spine, and hardened her heart walking to her father with full knowledge he was going to strike her.
He swung her up and over his knee, her skirt slipped up revealing her small pantalet clad rump. He administered three solid smacks, each one hurting him more than the last. He righted her and turned her to face him.
"No more fighting at school do you hear me."
Matilda nodded her head, biting her lip to keep from crying. Her eyes blazed hate at him. But she said nothing, absolutely nothing.
Two and one half cookies and a full glass of milk remained behind after Matilda left the room. She didn't run, but walked out with her head held high. She was a true product of her mother's innate dignity.
Matt grimaced and glanced up at Ma who had turned around to give him an angry look. He made an attempt at defending himself, "She had it coming. You've said so yourself Ma … she needs a firm hand and direction."
"True, its what I said, but even a horse thief gets his day in court - you were a one man lynch mob Matt Dillon - didn't even wait to hear her side of things."
"There's no excuse for fighting … "
"I'll be pleased to remind you of that fact the next time you're at Doc's getting patched up from a saloon brawl."
"That's not the same thing Ma and you know it."
"I know about the blood that runs through her … she ain't gonna stand for something that don't set right with her. I've seen that little Bodkin girl; you'd think she was the next Queen of England. Fancy clothes, fancy house, and more playthings then the rest of the youngins in Dodge put together. She's got everything a little girl could ask for … that kind of richness can spoil a child … there's such a circumstance as too much of a good thing you know."
"Wait a minute Ma, Matilda's the one who pushed her to the ground … not the other way around …"
"What you're not asking yourself Marshal … is why … why did Matilda feel the need to teach her a lesson."
"We're going around in circles Ma - like I said, there's no excuse for fighting, especially for a little girl …"
"Oh that's right …" Ma said with a certain amount of sarcasm in her voice, "You're an expert on the subject of little girls."
He shook his head. Most reluctantly, he admitted some truth to what Ma was trying to get through to him.
He heaved a sigh, "I'll go up and talk to Matilda." He offered standing up.
"You'll do nothing of the kind." Ma ordered. "Leave her be … sounds to me like she's got enough going on right now. Let her sort things out a might before you go offering your apologies and making matters worse."
He sat down hard, hit by a vague sense of helplessness. Resting his elbows on his thighs and staring at his hands, he asked, "What should I do?"
Ma turned her back to the lawman and gave her stew a stir; "I reckon if it was me, I'd go up and have a little chat with Miss Tuttwell."
"Why?" He was still wounded from his meeting with her in the schoolhouse that morning; he had no desire to suffer further indignities at her hands.
"You might try to think of her as a witness for the defense, Marshal."
GS GS GS GS
He had to walk past Matilda's room to get to Miss Tuttwell's. He stopped at her door and listened briefly. He heard his daughter's voice, no doubt speaking to her doll, but the words were too soft for him to decipher. Guilt took a swing. The doll was hearing the words he should have been ready to listen to. Again, he had the desire to go to her, but refrained, figuring it was time he started following Ma's advise more closely.
After a moment he moved on to Miss Tuttwell's door. He could hear her walking across the wood planks; heard the scrape of chair as she sat down. He raised his hand to knock, but hesitated. The female of the species suddenly dominated his world and he was frankly feeling a might raw from the experience. Oh how he wished for the sanity of Kitty's gentle touch and clear thinking to pull him out of this mess.
As he was pondering what to do next, the door across the hall swung open and there appeared Miss Taffy Boyd in a gown he would have sworn was Kitty's. He had to blink twice before he could meet her eyes. The dress was a deep hunter green and form fitting, with tiny little crystals decorating the bodice making the sparkles shimmer across her bosom as she breathed in and out.
Taffy smiled and propelled her breasts forward and their impressive presence was impossible to ignore, even for a grief-riddled soul such as he. She gave her head a toss and her lively curls danced and he noted the arrangement was so like the style Kitty had preferred to wear.
He licked his lips and nodded his head, "Miss Taffy."
"Why Marshal honey, I was just on my way to work, might you be so sweet as to walk me there? A pretty girl can't be too careful, doncha know?" She moved closer grabbing his arm in hers so that the thrust of her breasts rubbed warm and inviting against his body.
"Ummm, Miss Taffy … " he stuttered making a feeble attempt to stand his ground.
She smelled of Kitty's favorite perfume – Bourjois Lescaut - a heady floral scent so expensive Dillon had only been able to buy it for her once a year, on Christmas. It had to be special ordered direct from Paris, France. Before the lawman realized what had happened he was backed up against the wall. His breathing had turned a might jagged and heretofore-dormant quarters of his body were responding to the sensual pressure of the voluptuous Miss Boyd.
And, that's when Miss Tuttwell opened the door of her room with notebook and primer in hand eager to get a head start on Matilda's reading lesson.
Miss Tuttwell's much smaller bosom heaved in disdain. "Marshal Dillon!" she said with a tone she would have used to reproof the most loathsome creature in her domain. Every aspect of his oversized body shrunk in size under her disapproving stare. The teacher intimidated even the flamboyant Miss Taffy, for she backed quickly away and excused herself as being late for the Long Branch.
Matt ran a nervous tongue over his dry lips, and attempted a smile; "I was just coming to see you when I ran into Miss Boyd."
"Mr. Dillon, I wasn't born yesterday …"
"No Ma'am … you sure weren't." He winced when he realized his words came out less than flattering.
Miss Tuttwell stretched her long skinny neck an inch higher, "Might I remind you, that your daughter is here now and she is paying for the repercussions brought about by your aberrant dalliance with her mother. I ask if you have any form of moral fortitude you refrain from such lascivious behavior with every trollop and harlot to cross your path. You sir, are an embarrassment to your child."
He was caught with his mouth open for a moment while he processed her words. The moment of truth hit him, "Is that what the fight was about?"
"You heard about the fight?"
He nodded, "It's all over town by now. The Marshal's kid decked the School Board President, Banker Bodkin's daughter."
"And … do you know why?"
"Matilda's a trouble maker … I might have figured she'd end up in Groendyke's office."
"She was defending her mother … and you … Angel Louise made accusations regarding the legitimacy of Matilda's birth. She called you and Miss Russell - fornicators."
A blow to the gut would have left him less winded, he found himself backed against the wall once more. Miss Tuttwell noted with some degree of satisfaction, she'd hit her mark. Dillon sputtered disjointedly, "Where … how would she hear? Angel Louise is just a little girl, why would she …"
"You underestimate children … no doubt you have heard the saying, 'Little pitchers have big ears?' If talk is going on in the Bodkin domicile, you can be certain it is prevalent in the less refined homes of the school district as well."
His mind flashed briefly on the kind of day Matilda must have had and for the first time he felt responsible for the emotional trauma he'd caused. "What can I do?"
"As I said, stop publicly groping every hussy and strumpet within reach and start behaving as a responsible parent."
He was downright indignant in his answer, "Miss Tuttwell … I do not …"
"Mr. Dillon, I don't care to hear the sordid details of your surreptitious life, I'm just saying if you want respectability for your daughter you will have to amend your private comings and goings, for in a town this size they are public knowledge." Her nose slanted north and she spun and marched back in her room.
Dillon exhaled until he felt completely deflated. He was in need of a stiff drink and a shoulder to cry on. With heavy feet and heavy heart he went to his own room, where unfortunately he had neither.
In the next room Matilda sat on the floor. Her doll was opposite her, propped against a pillow. Between them was a miniature set of china dishes, "I'll serve." She said, and made a show of lifting a pretty hand painted teapot and dispensing imaginary liquid into a matching cup. "Here you go." She said, setting the cup on the doll's lap." "Careful now, it's hot."
She repeated the process for herself and then took a sip of the pretend drink. "I do so love our tea parties Miss Kitty. Would you care for a cookie? Ma made them fresh today." She picked up an empty plate and held it out to the doll. "They're good aren't they?" Her own stomach growled, she'd had little more than a bite of cookie since breakfast that morning, for her lunch had been spent in Mr. Groendyke's office. The thought made her angry. Grown-ups were nasty; there wasn't one of them a kid could trust. She forced a smile for the doll's sake. "These cookies are so good, I think I'll have another one."
From the hall she heard voices and recognizing one of them as her father's, she excused herself from the doll's presence and went to stand by her door with ear pressed against the wood. It was with some surprise that she heard Miss Tuttwell defend her and Matilda being fair of heart, revised her earlier declaration, maybe they weren't all nasty. She would hold judgment with regard to Sydney Tuttwell. However, as for Matt Dillon, he remained a doody-head.