Behind the Masks by Susan Patron

Author:Susan Patron [Patron, Susan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-545-39241-9
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2012-10-15T04:00:00+00:00

Saturday, June 19, 1880

Dear Diary,

Eleanor begged me to visit her, for strange things were happening at her home. She would not reveal what sort of things, but her distressed and mysterious air drew me. As soon as I arrived, Mrs. Tucker clasped me to her and said how proud of me she had been at Mrs. O’Toole’s boardinghouse. Then she collapsed in a chair and tears started in her eyes.

“Oh, Mother, please don’t cry now,” said Eleanor.

“You are right, dear, it is unbecoming. Yet I must explain to Angeline how ashamed I am of my own frailty. I ought to have allowed Eleanor—and allowed myself as well—to go with you to Mr. Johl. Those ladies are simply cruel. It takes pluck to stand up to them. I most distressingly lacked it.” She seemed as if her heart were breaking.

“Oh, Mrs. Tucker,” I said, startled and pleased beyond measure to be described as having pluck, “it is so kind of you to say this, but you give me more credit than I deserve. Please do not trouble yourself further. Those ladies at the meeting would scare anyone, I believe—even the Bold Bad Boys from Bodie.”

(By saying this, dear diary, I hoped to bring out a smile on Mrs. Tucker’s face, for most of us residents tolerate our town’s fearsome reputation as reported in all the newspapers. This is said to be the wildest place in the West, plagued by gunfights and lawlessness and treachery of every sort. In fact, all of that is true, as Papa can attest by his many hours in courts of law. But as long as we women and girls do not interfere with those Bad Boys, they are courteous and even gallant in our presence. We are safe enough—or at least so Momma has always claimed—if we stay levelheaded and keep out of the way.)

Mrs. Tucker did brighten for a moment, and then she said she had to hurry to an appointment with Miss Williams to discuss Eleanor’s future education. I am trying hard to be unselfish and glad for Eleanor, for it would be a fine thing for her to go to school in the east, yet the idea of losing my new friend pains me.

Almost as soon as Mrs. Tucker had gone we heard a strange kind of moaning from the rear of the house. “What is that sound?” I asked Eleanor, for it was giving me gooseflesh on my arms.

“My father,” she said.

“Another attack? Then, Ellie, I must be going.” I do not wish to remain in a person’s house when her father is moaning. I do not want to know the personal and private reason for this man’s misery, especially when he shares a terrible, ancient secret with my own father.

Eleanor grabbed my arm. “Wait, Angie,” she urged. “Come see him.”

“Ellie! I saw him that other day and it was dreadful. I am sorry for him and for you, but my presence here cannot help.” Mr. Tucker, for all his joviality and goodwill, tipping his bowler hat to ladies on the street, was not a person I wished to encounter.

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