Telltale Sign

Telltale Sign

Maggie sat in the dusty yard admiring her new doll. Her first doll ever. The birthday girl at four-years-old never knew little girls and dolls went together like boys and climbing trees. As the only girl among five boys in her family she had only played however those boys played. Sticks as swords or twigs raking the dust prepping the soil for 'planting season'. This doll was delicately dressed in a pink silky dress with lots of lace up to her neck beneath her porcelain face with its flushed cheeks and rose-bud mouth showing tiny white teeth and her pearl studded up-do of shiny blond hair. Her bleached white frilly petticoats peeked out at the hemline near petite high-heeled black boots. All of her joints were movable and her eyes opened and closed depending on her position upright or lying back. She was the most beautiful thing Maggie had ever seen other than her mother. But she had no idea how to play with her other than admire her countenance.

Store bought gifts were never an expectation in their household. Birthdays and Christmas meant replenishing staples in wardrobe items. Knitted sweaters and socks, homemade shirts, breeches or plain dresses, stockings and drawers. On her only trip into town months ago she had longingly ogled this very doll on the general store's counter and lovingly named it 'Angel'. Her mother had stoically tugged her away stating what nonsense it was to name a doll. Now she held it in her arms unable to believe her mother had sacrificed so much of Pa's meager earnings for her pleasure. Surely, she would be made to pay the price somehow.

Just then two of her red-headed brothers, inseparable nine-year-old, Ralph, and ten-year-old, Hughy, spied their little sister's long banana curls in red-gold glittering in the sunshine bent over her special birthday present.

“Whatcha got, there, Pip-Squeak?” Hughy scared her tugging on a long curl and watching it spring back into place.

“Yeah, let's see whatcha got for your birthday.” Ralphie chimed in as he pulled on her arm.

“No! Get away. She's mine. Mom said so. Boys don't like dolls. You'll break her!” as Maggie tightened her arms around the delicate figure.

“Nah, we won't. We just want to see. What makes you so special to get a store bought birthday gift, Little Twerp.” Hughy grabbed her wrist and started twisting.

“Ow! Leave me be! You'll break her, I know!” Maggie was in tears at the pain and the injustice.

“Got her!” Ralphie squealed as he pulled the doll loose from under her arms. “Now what do we have.”

They quickly undressed the pretty doll and were twisting all her joints every which way they could gleefully laughing as the pristine clothes got trampled under their muddy boots.

Soon five-year-old Stuart was beside her with his arm around her shoulder. “Don't cry, Sissy. I'll run and find Freddie at the forge. He'll put a stop to it.”

Dark-haired Frederick, the oldest brother at nearly sixteen, ripped off his apron and was sticking his arms into his shirt as he ran to his only sister's rescue from her tormentors.

“Give me that doll before you destroy her, you brood of vipers! Don't you have chores to do for Ma? Now git!”

“Oh, Freddie. They even ripped her hair off!”

“I'll glue it back on after supper tonight. Ma will wash out the clothes. Come on. Let's brush off your best dress and go in and wipe away your tears. Now you are a big girl Pa won't want to see you crying over what those ingrates do to you. We O'Reillys must stand up for ourselves, boys or girls.”

“Fred, what are you doing back from the forge already? Pa won't be happy you stopped so early.”

“Had to save Little Sis here from those nasty trouble makers. They did a number on her present we picked up in town the other day. Between the two of us we should be able to make it right again.” Fred pecked his ever moving mother on her temple as she seemingly floated by on her constant track between working table, stove and dining table.

Even after bearing six children she kept her slim waistline beneath the layers of apron, long skirt, petticoats and pantaloons. If she would ever smile she would still be beautiful at age thirty-three and look exactly like the aristocratic portrait hanging over the never-played spinet piano in the for-company-only parlor. Fred suspected it was her grandmother's likeness but she would never tell. It came from a mysterious past. It was an enigma why this blonde beauty had married the older scrawny red-haired Irishman and blessed him with so many red-haired boys yet himself so dark-haired. All he knew for sure was his mother was dead tired all the time yet never complained once.

Of course, Patrick, worked hard, too. He and the other brother, eleven-year-old Danny, were at the neighboring dairy farm doing the twice daily milking. The rest of the day they were manning the crops. Everyone loved the likable Patrick and couldn't deny he loved his family fiercely, save maybe himself, Fred. Or maybe the Irishman only took out frustrations on him because he was the oldest.

Being nearly sixteen Fred was ready to strike out on his own to make his fortune in the world. It was plain to see fortunes were never going to come his way staying here working someone else's dream. The forge had built his muscles and he was ready to go flex them. Only he hated leaving his mother in the care of this old goat as he forced himself on her time and again. How many more red-headed sons did he need to have? Pretty Maggie was the crowning glory but being female her lot was cast same as her mother's. In this modern age of 1915, in this land of opportunity surely there were other options!

Danforth, Hand County in central South Dakota was thirty-some miles from a neighboring community so they were serviced by a traveling priest that came once a month to present mass. It was almost a holiday atmosphere at the O'Reilly homestead. After the service a sumptuous feast was presented by the women of the congregation. Home to freely wagging tongues.

“Just look at him. He is so-o-o dark and good looking. All the other ones have some shade of red hair. Oh, little Maggie is adorable with her red-gold long locks and is as pretty as her blonde mom but knowing genetics as I do those genes wouldn't produce something like that oldest boy.” Flapped one know it all.

Unfortunately, Fred overheard it accidentally. Not that it wasn't something he often wondered. Add to that how differently Patrick treated him and how many times they locked horns over simple disagreements it made Frederick want to confront his mother for the absolute truth. She was keeping her past very mysteriously secret. He could see Patrick dearly loved her but what exactly did she love about him other than he gave her his all?

It was Patrick's strict rule that housework was woman's work so no son of his was allowed to help their mother. Leona, the mom, could barely wait for Maggie to get a little older so she would finally be of more help. But Freddie would wait until the kids were all bedded down and Patrick had retired then help his overworked mother with the supper dishes.

“Really, Frederick, you shouldn't. I don't want to be the cause of more friction between you and your father. All of you work hard. This is my job.”

“I really don't mind. I would like to see you smile. Besides I bet my real father would be delighted if I lightened your load.”

“I'd have servants...Oh, no!”

“See! I knew it! Who was he and how did you end up with...”

“Don't say anything bad about Patrick. He's a good, good man.”

“But not my father. Who are you? And who is my father? It is time I know the truth.”