"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
Oh shut up and stop yer bawlin'. I didn't break your arm. But if I wanted to I could snap one of those sticks of yers easy," Caroline glared at her.
"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never harm me!" replied Arabella primly and nonsensically. "Anyhow, you didn't have to drag me like a dawg!"
"Had I been dealing with an adult I would have asked you to accompany me inta th kitchen but I was dealing with you. A rotten little brat who still hasn't grown up."
"I can't help being small!" the girl protested, picking the easiest thing to deal with "And you're only..." she stood on her tip-toes so she was the same height and held up her thumb and forefinger an inch or so apart "... that much bigger'n me! Why you wanna get so mean?"
"What have I told you a million times - we got us a job to do...we're professionals. Have I not taught you to take all this seriously? And then you go on like that out there? The evils of liquor? It's our fuckin' job to sell drinks! "
Arabella put her hands over her ears and screamed! "She said the bad word, she said the bad word!"
Messalina had had enough, she got a big wooden spoon and swatted Arabella across the fanny with it, which really did make her scream . "Ow, what's that fer?!!" she screeched "SHE was the one what said the bad word!"
Messelina was bubblin' up now like her big ol' pot of stew.
"That's for rilin' up Miss Caroline every single night!" the put-upon cook exclaimed before turning on Caroline "And I should give you one for letting her! Don't you know she does this for attention? Now will you two make up like you always do and git out of my kitchens so I can COOK?!!" she yelled.
"Yeah but this lady come in an'... OW!!!" Messalina raised her spoon for a third whack but Arabella was already running yelling from the kitchen holding her behind protectively.
The large black woman wiped the sweat from her brow, looked at the spoon and then at Caroline.
"Guess that makes me as bad as you - rising to it!" she huffed.
"Ow, what's that fer?!!" Arabella screeched "SHE was the one what said the bad word!"
Caroline rolled her eyes, "Like you never heard that before, we work in a saloon."
"That's for rilin' up Miss Caroline every single night!" the put-upon cook exclaimed before turning on Caroline "And I should give you one for letting her! Don't you know she does this for attention? Now will you two make up like you always do and git out of my kitchens so I can COOK?!!" she yelled.
"What?" so the woman was blaming her now? Letting her? Caroline had to concede though maybe Messalina had a point about Ara doing this sort of thing for attention.
"Yeah but this lady come in an'... OW!!!" Messalina raised her spoon for a third whack but Arabella was already running yelling from the kitchen holding her behind protectively.
The large black woman wiped the sweat from her brow, looked at the spoon and then at Caroline.
"Guess that makes me as bad as you - rising to it!" she huffed.
"I never claimed to be no saint but I'm tryin' my best to teach her the business. I don't think I been unfair to her, right from the start...I never picked any fights with her. And what about her wages? I was the one who stuck up for her and told Matilda that unless she paid Ara proper for her piano playing, I'd up and quit," Caroline felt compelled to defend herself here.
"And now she goes and bad mouths the saloon and goin' on about the evil of drink and all that nonsense. I mean we got a new boss now. What if Fortner decides he isn't gonna put up with her acting up with the customers? And kicks her out? I pulled her out of there for her sake," Caroline sighed.
"I never claimed to be no saint but I'm tryin' my best to teach her the business. I don't think I been unfair to her, right from the start...I never picked any fights with her. And what about her wages? I was the one who stuck up for her and told Matilda that unless she paid Ara proper for her piano playing, I'd up and quit," Caroline felt compelled to defend herself here.
Messalina just laughed and shook her head "You think that child's interested in money? She never spends a dime, least not on herself. She don't like you for all the nice things you done for her, she loves you for all the fights and spats and making up afterward. It's just high drama that child craves."
"And now she goes and bad mouths the saloon and goin' on about the evil of drink and all that nonsense. I mean we got a new boss now. What if Fortner decides he isn't gonna put up with her acting up with the customers? And kicks her out? I pulled her out of there for her sake," Caroline sighed.
"Well, you just let her stew in her own juice next time." advised the cook "And don't worry about Mister Fortner: I seen the way he looks at that girl and I don't know who she reminds him of, but I reckon it must be someone very special the way he 'forgives her her trespasses'".
"Well, that's all right for now, but that girl's growin' up. Pretty soon now she's gonna be just like springtime: bustin' out all over! She ain't interested in men, I know that, and you certainly know that: but they're gonna get interested in her; when that time comes, that's when she's gonna need a eye keepin on her and her chesnuts pullin' out the fire: by you and me both."
Messalina looked about to go back to her pots and pans, but then she stopped and frowned a little at the confident, ballsy blonde.
"And how are you doing?" she asked, with only the slightest tinge of concern in her voice.
High drama indeed! To Caroline it was just high frustration. And so far she had no answers for it either.
"Well, you just let her stew in her own juice next time." advised the cook "And don't worry about Mister Fortner: I seen the way he looks at that girl and I don't know who she reminds him of, but I reckon it must be someone very special the way he 'forgives her her trespasses'".
"Hope yer right, but knowing Ara it won't be long before she does something to tick him off," Caroline half predicted, then sighed, "I get so mad at her, but I don't wanna lose her. I know, I'm an idiot."
The cook had a point about as Ara matured, she was going to attract the older boys and young men. She also knew Ara was not interested in them - period. But they would be coming after her. Hopefully Fortner did not have a taste for younger gals.
"And how are you doing?" asked Messalina suddenly.
"I'm good, why do ya ask?" Caroline wasn't sure what brought that on?
Hope yer right, but knowing Ara it won't be long before she does something to tick him off," Caroline half predicted, then sighed, "I get so mad at her, but I don't wanna lose her. I know, I'm an idiot."
"I ain't arguin' Miss Caroline!" replied Messalina with serious face but a twinkle in her eyes as she recommenced her work.
"And how are you doing?" asked Messalina suddenly.
"I'm good, why do ya ask?" Caroline wasn't sure what brought that on?
"Just askin'" replied the older woman. "See, when something's bothering Arabella there, the whole town knows about it, when something's bothering a girl like Miss Caroline Mundee, well I reckon nobody knows about it but herself." She was busy preparing some vegetables for the stew now, but her whole attention was somehow obliquely on the ostensibly not-a-care-in-the-world saloon singer.
"What about that Mr Connolly feller. Is that gettin' serious? Or don't gettin' serious fit in with your plans?" she asked "Oh! Tell me to mind my own business if you please. But some of us worry about you, whether you like it or not."
"Me and Arabella, and I reckon Mr Flandry, too."
Just askin'" replied the older woman. "See, when something's bothering Arabella there, the whole town knows about it, when something's bothering a girl like Miss Caroline Mundee, well I reckon nobody knows about it but herself."
"Like you said, that's cuz she loves drama. Me....I'm more .....calm," Caroline declared.
"What about that Mr Connolly feller. Is that gettin' serious? Or don't gettin' serious fit in with your plans?" she asked "Oh! Tell me to mind my own business if you please. But some of us worry about you, whether you like it or not."
"Me and Arabella, and I reckon Mr Flandry, too."
"Brendan? He's a good friend is all. I don't wanna git married, he don't get married. So we're in complete agreement there," Caroline smiled.
"And well..........sometimes I don't think Ara really does care about me, certainly not like I care about her. Heard her tell folk that her mentor is that old fart who owns the dress shop. Talk about a slap in the face. Shows ya how much of an influence I am," Caroline sighed.
Brendan? He's a good friend is all. I don't wanna git married, he don't get married. So we're in complete agreement there," Caroline smiled.
Messalina nodded her approval. She knew that Caroline and Brendan were close: sleeping in the room right underneath Caroline's (or, at least, trying to sleep!) she couldn't help BUT know! But she saw in the young cowboy a wild roan, not the sort of young colt who could be tethered to the cart of marital servitude. Her husband James had been the same: wild and young and free, despite his status as a slave.
"And well..........sometimes I don't think Ara really does care about me, certainly not like I care about her."
"Oh, she cares about you, Miss Caroline, she cares about you probably more than anyone else in this here blamed freezing cold town! Even more'n me or Mr Flandry or that scrap o' nuthin' Jew girl she hangs around with, down at the drapers. For now." this last phrase seemed to carry some import.
"You know, Miss Caroline, I grew up on a plantation with another little girl my age, the Master's daughter, Miss Many Anne McMahon: and boy, did we love each other to bits. There wasn't nuthin' I wouldn't do for her and there wasn't nuthin' she wouldn't do for me. That old rascal of a Master'd raise his stick to me and she'd just jump right in front of me an dare him to give me a whuppin'." she smiled happily at the remembrance, but then her grin collapsed.
"When we was eighteen, Miss Mary Anne got married and moved far, far away: left me there alone, never heard from that gal again. That's when my bad times begun. But I always thought, 'she still thinks of me like I think of her, one day she'll come back for me, one day I will be saved'" the older woman shook her head "Took me a long time to realise the truth, and that was the day I started to look out for myself. And here I am."
Somehow feeling she'd gotten off topic, she brought things back to the source of Caroline's irritation.
"See, Arabella's just like that Miss Mary Anne: maybe that's why I loves that little pest so much, but when she's gone, and gone she soon will be, mark my words, I don't expect her to think too much about her poor old Mammy Cookie, or even about Miss Caroline Mundee: even if she does love you more'n anyone else in the world right now." she warned. Caroline clearly didn't even think the last part was true.
"Heard her tell folk that her mentor is that old fart who owns the dress shop. Talk about a slap in the face. Shows ya how much of an influence I am," Caroline sighed.
Although Messalina couldn't help but chuckle at the singer's description of the master tailor, she was serious in her reply.
"Oh, why she's just using ol' man Pettigrew, and that Mr Jeems Vaughn. she wants to learn all she can from them: nice speaking and manners and the like, but she'll just burn them up like a paper of matches and leave a little pile of ash behind. That's it, she just uses people up: me for food and a mother to hug, that little Jew girl for, well, you know them things she gets up to, Mr Flandry for a Daddy, and you: you're the most important to her, because you give her excitement, and that child just lives for excitement and fuss and crying and falling out and making up again."
It sounded like Messalina didn't even like the girl, but she had something to add. "That might not make no logical sense to that hard Yankee head o' yours, Miss Caroline: but my soft old Southern heart feels it and knows it: we don't love that girl cause she always does or says the right thing, or cause she 'means well despite her bad behaviour' or because she'll write to us every day when she goes away. We just love her 'cause we love her."
Mrs McMahon seemed to have finished describing her personal philosophy on the matter.
Meanwhile, Sarah made her way across the room to where Hiriam Priest was sitting. The man was playing cards...no doubt it was solitaire and looking like he wasn't very interested in what was going on in the saloon. She was sure if it was an act or he really didn't care. Maybe after the interview, she would know for sure.
Standing at the opposite end of the table, she gently cleared her throat to get his attention, before saying, "Mr. Priest? My name is Sarah Thornton-Carlton and I represent the Kalispell Union. We are interested in doing some human-interest stories on the men who are running for mayor. Since you are one of those men, could answer a few questions so that our readers can get a better idea of who you are and what you stand for?"
Caroline listened to Messalina's sad tale of her relationship with some white girl when she was young. In the end, the black woman had been abandoned, forgotten, or so it seemed. Caroline believed it. The cook then related that to Arabella's behavior and so called 'love'. The saloon girl just gave a shrug.
"I don't agree. Not sayin' you don't make some good points but....well.........I just believe that real love don't work that way. But hell, it don't really matter I reckon. Arabella does what she wants to do, pays no real heed ta me 'cept when it works for her. Like I said, I've tried my best. I can't do any more to show her, teach her, ...mentor her," she smirked that last term.
Then she sighed, "I'd rather not talk about it if that's alright with you, hon."
Caroline flashed a quick smile, a sort of sad one though, her eyes showed her heart really wasn't in the gesture. Then turned and headed for the stairway.
"I don't agree. Not sayin' you don't make some good points but....well.........I just believe that real love don't work that way. But hell, it don't really matter I reckon. Arabella does what she wants to do, pays no real heed ta me 'cept when it works for her. Like I said, I've tried my best. I can't do any more to show her, teach her, ...mentor her," she smirked that last term.
Messalina gave Caroline a sympathetic look: in her philosophy, which was heavily tainted by the central tenets of a strangely rarely practiced religion called Christianity, the exact opposite was true: the only real love was that which was given despite, not because, of the treatment meted out to the giver by the object of that love. If Jesus could love those who condemned him, taunted and tortured him, yea, finally murdered him in his earthly form, then could not she forgive and love those who had trespassed against her.
If Messalina loved and prayed for Arabella Mudd, she also loved and prayed for Miss Caroline Mundee and Mr Ralph Flandry and found it easy to do so. Mr Frank Fortner, well, she was still working on that one: it was hard to love and pray for a body who hadn't really shown who he was yet!
Then she sighed, "I'd rather not talk about it if that's alright with you, hon."
The old cook nodded, and gave a lopsided smile "I get it, Miss Caroline. Now you get along and get yourself all ready. But just remember, you ever want to talk about just anything: I ain't goin' anywhere and I got ears made just right for listenin'." she offered.
Caroline flashed a quick smile, a sort of sad one though, her eyes showed her heart really wasn't in the gesture. Then turned and headed for the stairway.
Caroline gone, Messalina shook her head and carried on making her sauce, only hoping that Caroline hadn't gone up to her room to hit another kind of sauce.