Diamond Dogs

Prologue

Matilda so wanted to be a boy.  It would certainly make life a lot easier.  No more dresses, or standing up straight, or even smiling.  Fighting would be a given, and a black eye, every now and then, acceptable.  A boy’s life would suit her just fine.

It was fine with Grandpa too, until Mrs Hofter scoffed at Matilda.

It was unusual for visitors to come to the plantation, but Mrs Hofter was in one of her pushy moods again.  Making her money from real estate, she had always had her eye on Grandpa’s farm, but he would never sell.  It was the only thing of value Grandpa had to leave Matilda.

In a huff Mrs Hofter gave up, again, and turned for her car.  She squealed, not because she was startled, but at the state of Matilda.

Grandpa thought Matilda was adorable holding up the bucket of tadpoles she had caught from the creek.

All Mrs Hofter saw was a scruffy little girl, mud up to her elbows and no shoes.  Something had to be said, and Mrs Hofter was not one for being tactful.

So the next Saturday Matilda found herself in a little pink frock, pouting out the window of the pickup. 

It had taken Grandpa a good half hour to get Matilda in the truck, but soon he was happily driving them down the long dusty road to the scout hall.

Grandpa was rather thankful to have had a little feminine counsel from Mrs Hofter, even though the delivery hit him on the head like a stack of bricks.  “Grease trucks and mud pies” were not how to raise a lady, Mrs Hofter had finally pointed out.

The sugar cane fields stretched for miles and miles.  The fresh green stalks lined the straight long roads.  The peak of summer was always a beautiful time of year.

The sugar cane ended, revealing a lonely wooden hall; stilts, shutters, and yellow paint.

Grandpa pulled up and Matilda slapped back on the seat.

Grandpa jumped out of the car, sprang around the bonnet but stopped before reaching the stairs of the hall.  He had forgotten something.

Matilda slunked further down in the seat hoping he wouldn’t see her under the dashboard.  Her door opened and Grandpa gestured the way, like a gentleman.  The hot vinyl seat gripped onto Matilda’s legs but she could still slide off the seat.

As soon as her feet touched the ground Grandpa smiled. “See, already a lady”.

It was not appreciated.  Matilda looked through her hair up at him.  His rough fingers brushed her fringe back -  a useless courtesy if he intended for her hair to stay off her face.

***

Mrs Oddman zealously played the piano while Mrs Bossey conducted the waltzing children.  The girls and boys were dressed for a premature debutant, with tucked-in shirts and white stockings in the peak of the day.  Sitting on the benches were the mothers in their pastel dresses, fanning themselves.  Gossiping was the town’s claim to fame and these women did not disappoint.

Grandpa stood by the door.  He preferred to be gossiped about than gossiped to, or perhaps he just wanted to guard the quickest escape route, Matilda had her suspicions.  It was hopeless, Matilda was not going to get out of this one by any chance.

“Master Callen, take Miss Tilly in dance hold, please.”  Mrs Bossey glared at Matilda and the boy standing in front of her.

Callen was an unusual boy.  He liked bow ties, staying clean, and dancing.  A rich kid from the city.  He was not the sort of boy Matilda wanted to be acquainted with.  Just standing next to him enticed the Bowen brothers to include you in their bullying routine.