"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
Arabella Mudd | Posted October 19, 2020
Brendan shifted his weight under Clara's scathing stare. He stuck his thumbs in his suspenders and met Clara's eyes, setting his mouth stubbornly. "Brendan Connolly.”
That name sounded Irish, like Bridget’s. Oh, well, he couldn’t help that, Arabella supposed. Maybe he was a Catholic and could take her and Bridget to the Catholic mission tomorrow. She was going to ask him, but for once she couldn’t get a word in edgeways.
“And I didn't set you up. The hands set me up."
“Sure, the hands set him up!” Arabella agreed, not having a clue what this was all about, but trying to pour oil on troubled waters. Considering that she was her ‘bosom friend’ Clara never actually did tell her much about her life.
"Still wanna dance with me after hearin' that? I'll take a polka with you and a slow dance with Miss Ginger there, if she's 'con-struct-ed' for it."
“Hey don’t call her that!” Arabella corrected the man, for these were the days when having red hair was considered ugly in a woman. “You wouldn’t like it if we made fun of your bow legs, now would you?” He didn’t really have bow legs, unlike most cowboys, but he wouldn’t know that. Unlike women, men didn’t spend a lot of time examining their own bodies, looking for imperfections. “I mean, they ain’t too bad, but you still couldn’t stop a pig in an alley.”
Arabella caught Bridget’s eye and nodded toward Clara, as if to say, to the elective mute, ‘have a word with her’, while she grabbed hold of Brendan’s arm and dragged him away from the scene of conflict.
“Step over here a second, Mr. Cowboy Connelly, and I’ll show you where we got the beer tent set up” she offered brightly, and as soon as they were a few steps away, hissed “Well, what the Dickens was all that about? You two looked fit to start a range war back there, even before this shindig’s begun. Tell me what happened between you two.” she asked with frown on her youthful features.
Meanwhile, Bridget’s contribution to all this was to rustle up to the incandescently furious looking Clara, bustle to bustle, and whisper in her ear “Is that man bad?”
Mike Wentworth | Posted October 19, 2020
After hitching their horses, Mike and the rest of the Lost Lake hands surveyed their surroundings. The crowd was starting to build up and a couple of the hands headed over towards the tent where the beer was being served. A few of them headed over to where the food was. Some of them went inside leaving only Mike, Charlie and Marty to decide what to do.
After a minute or two, Marty tapped Mike on the arm and pointed towards the barn entrance. "Over there boss, a couple of the Evergreen crew. Remember them from that fight last year at the fair."
Even though it happened before he had arrived in Kalispell, Mike had heard what had happened last summer. He also knew the story behind the so-called feud between Evergreen and Lost Lake. "Okay, just make sure you and the others stay clear of them."
"Oh, I plan to...otherwise all bets will be off and I intend to win this time," Marty replied before heading off to warn his friends.
Mike turned to Charlie, "Speaking of bets. What time did you put down?"
Charlie, seemed to be distracted by something over where the food was being served, quickly turned his attention back to his brother, "Nine thirty."
Mike smiled, "Isn't that a bit optimistic?"
Shaking his head, Charlie answered, "From what I hear it isn't. Besides Sam put down nine forty-five."
"I suppose you could be right but I'm hoping you're not. Wouldn't mind winning that pot myself." Taking one last good look at what was going on, Mike straightened his jacket, "I think I'll head inside and try my luck there. I'll see you later."
He patted Charlie on the back before walking towards the barn.
Clara Redmond-Lutz | Posted October 20, 2020
Brendan shifted his weight under Clara's scathing stare. He stuck his thumbs in his suspenders and met Clara's eyes, setting his mouth stubbornly. "Brendan Connolly. And I didn't set you up. The hands set me up."
"So you say," Clara huffed, "And then what did you about it?"
She would have not tolerated being roped into such a vicious act, most folk would call it for what it was 'attempted murder'.
Arabella then went and took the cowpoke's side on it, so much for friendship and loyalty. But it seemed she was more interested in getting to dance with the infuriating young man. Whatever! As the pair shyed away for a conversation, Bridget remained.
“Is that man bad?” she asked in a whisper.
"I do not know for certain, he probably is though. He works for a very bad man," Clara answered then glanced at Bridget and decided the poor thing needn't get involved all this drama, probably well beyond her comprehension anyhow.
"Say, I like your outfit. You look very nice," even as she complimented the other young woman, her mind was made up - regardless of how much effort it took she was going to see at least one man, or more, would dance with Bridget this night. Well, just slow dances.
Matilda Devereau | Posted October 20, 2020
Matilda entered the barn dressed in a very conservative, at least for her, cream dress, her hair up as usual, she had decided to bring a shawl for when it got cooler at night. It was still spring afterall and this was Montana, never a place considered to be one of the warm weather states by any means. She was smiling at what she saw, folks were pouring in, there were refreshments, she could smell the mouth watering aroma of beef roasting in a firepit outside, there was a stage with some local musicians, and decorations on all the walls and hanging from the rafters. As she had been on the organizing committee she had worked and hoped it would turn out like this. Anything to forget that frozen mess that had been the demise of White Fish. And to think she almost looked for a saloon to buy there instead of Kalispell.
Speaking of saloons, there was a tent just outside of the barn where Ralph was already busy serving beer and spirits to thirsty attendees, almost like a regular work day for the man not that he minded. Her cook was given the day and night off. And then there was her ward, Arabella, also given the freedom to be a young miss and hopefully not make a disaster of it. She too was just determined to enjoy the evening. Talk to folks, eat good food, and partake in a few dances. She was an excellent dancer really though seldom got a chance to prove it.
Maybe tonight then. 
Want... dolls!
Bridget Monahan | Posted October 20, 2020
“Is that man bad?” she asked in a whisper.
"I do not know for certain, he probably is though. He works for a very bad man," Clara answered then glanced at Bridget and decided the poor thing needn't get involved all this drama, probably well beyond her comprehension anyhow.
Bridget listened to this verdict open mouthed and nodded her comprehension. She looked over to where Arabella was talking to the probable villain with a fretful look on her face, biting her bottom lip, and played nervously with her parasol handle, worried about the safety of her friend.
"Say, I like your outfit. You look very nice," even as she complimented the other young woman, her mind was made up - regardless of how much effort it took she was going to see at least one man, or more, would dance with Bridget this night. Well, just slow dances.
Bridget turned back to Clara, looking surprised at being addressed, and then down at her dress and nodded vigorously, before leaning over and whispering in her ear “I got lots of ‘em.”
She stood back and looked at Clara and smiled and nodded, as if to say ‘I like your dress too.’
But then she frowned, looking at Mrs Blakesley and whispered “Is that lady bad?” If the pretty cowboy was bad, maybe the pretty lady was, too.
Brendan Connolly | Posted October 20, 2020
"Hey don’t call her that! You wouldn’t like it if we made fun of your bow legs, now would you?"
Ignoring Clara's question about what he had done about being set up - nothing, really, besides expressing his displeasure to Billy and Greer - Brendan looked askance at his knees. He didn't have bow legs, did he? Someone would have told him before now. But it was enough to make him pause. Bridget's red hair was actually quite pretty, although as young as she was, she shouldn't have had it twisted up so ridiculously. He wondered how much she'd minded his comment about her hair.
An amused grin spread across his face as he let Arabella lead him by the arm away from Clara and Bridget. Towards the beer tent. Well, that was a step in the right direction, in his opinion. Maybe if Miss Redmond got a little spirits in her sometime she'd be more fun to be around. But Arabella didn't let him go to the beer tent just yet.
"Well, what the Dickens was all that about? You two looked fit to start a range war back there, even before this shindig’s begun. Tell me what happened between you two."
He glanced back at Clara and gave her a grin - not an especially nice one, but not a mean one either - before looking down at Arabella, speaking in an almost sing-song voice like he would when he was talking to his siblings.
"Nothin' much. Couple of the hands took a shot at her when we was talkin' back in the summer and she hasn't forgotten."
Emmeline Pike | Posted October 20, 2020
Emeline couldn't help but chuckle at the youngsters' antics, remembering a time when she was flighty and flirty like that, and relieved that young Arabella's attention had quickly been diverted elsewhere.
Making sure that everything on the table was just right -- not that it would be for long, once folks started picking at the food -- Emeline listened to the conversation, somehow not at all surprised that Clara had had an untoward encounter with some cowboys, and counting them luck that Clara hadn't been armed!
Then Miss Bridget sidled closer and whispered to her.
“Is that lady bad?”
"Who, Clara?" Emeline kept her voice low as she shook her head. "No, not at all, she's a fine young woman. And I have a feeling that it's all a misunderstanding and Master Brendan is not so bad either."
She smiled and lightly touched the girl's arm. "Your dress is beautiful, and you wear it well." Grinning, she took a couple of sashay-steps, rather awkward, then added, "Dressing up is one thing, but being able to move gracefully is another." She didn't mind the bustle and layers of material on occasion, but she always felt a little out of place.
Sit down, shut up, don't touch anythin'
Adelaide Chappel | Posted October 20, 2020
The shindig was in full swing when Addy arrived, driving one of her big freight wagons, loaded with eager party-goers from the outlying farm, seated on bales of hay. A few weeks prior, she'd put out word that she'd pick up anyone who needed a ride to the festivities, and now she was arriving with several revelers who had already started their party, singing songs to the music of Mr. Haro's fiddle.
"Here we are!" Addy hopped down from the seat, then went around back to let down the gate and help everyone out, then she followed them to into the building, pausing to look around, wondering if Jay was going to be here.
She was as gussied up as she got, wearing a white shirtwaist that had tiny blue pinstripes, and even a bit of lace, and a blue wool skirt that was worn over several petticoats to give it some floof. It didn't bother her that she wasn't a fashion plate, she'd never worn a bustle and never would, and besides, there were all manner of dress, and no one really paid much mind, they were here to have fun and mingle with neighbors.
Wellington MacKenzie | Posted October 20, 2020
The column of riders approached the dance area at a round trot. The riders all had cloaks on, mostly to keep the trail dust off of their uniforms than for any warmth or concealment. The rider at the head raised an arm and the twin columns pulled up and stopped. MacKenzie swung down from his saddle and shrugged off his cloak, draping it over the saddle of his mount before he stepped back, batting lightly at his uniform and boots as the other officers and sergeants with him did the same.
MacKenzie straightened and spoke quietly. "Alright, lads...form up..." The men fell unconsciously into two rows facing him. A few cast longing looks toward the tent that had the unmistakable look of the saloon tent. They all faced front as the colonel began speaking.
"You all look like military gentlemen and I thank you for the effort you put in to getting ready for this little soiree..." MacKenzie smiled as his eyes moved along the two rows, then the smile dropped off
"Now understand this, if any of you get into trouble tonight...for any reason...your military careers will come to a screeching halt." His eyes searched out a few of the men he knew had reputations for drink or the ladies. "I selected you all to attend this dance because I needed men who could comport themselves with honor and dignity. If any of you make me regret choosing you for this dance, I guarantee you that you will regret your actions a lot more."
MacKenzie looked them over another few moments, then nodded. "Once we leave the dance tonight, I have arranged for us to occupy several rooms at the hotel in town..." MacKenzie saw several faces light up and a few elbow nudges among the young officers. "...If all of you aren't in those rooms tomorrow morning when Sergeant Major Halloran makes his rounds, do not bother showing up afterward, am I clear?"
The men nodded and several "Yessirs" were scattered among the bobbing heads. MacKenzie nodded and began tugging off his gauntlets. "Then dismissed and have fun, lads...within reason."
MacKenzie grinned as the group broke up, some of the officers and men bustling toward the saloon tent as he began walking toward the dance tent. He glanced sideways at the sergeant major in his braided NCO finery as he kept pace with him. "Thank you for agreeing to come along and ride herd on the men..."
Halloran shrugged and looked ahead at the dance barn. "Colonel, Darlin', It's been a long time since I've been asked to any of these parties unless they were being held on the fort itself...this is a welcome surprise. Besides, you picked a pretty decent group. I only figure I need to watch three or four of them."
MacKenzie nodded as they reached the open doorway of the barn. "Well, thank you anyway, now go enjoy yourself...I believe I have a dance to ask for..."
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
Arabella Mudd & Brendan Connolly | Posted October 21, 2020
"Nothin' much. Couple of the hands took a shot at her when we was talkin' back in the summer and she hasn't forgotten."
“Oh, and you think that just because it wasn’t your fault, you don’t need to apologize?” Arabella surmised, sadly shaking her head at the poor handsome cowboy’s total ignorance about the ways of women.
“Listen, Reb, you do like girls don’t ya, I mean, you ain’t one o’ them ‘funny fellers’? Right! Now you look at that girl Clara, ain’t she about the prettiest girl in this whole darn place? Ain’t she allurin’ in that there dress with them pretty little ringlets in her hair?”
Looking across, no man in his right mind could deny that the usually prim and proper Miss Redmond looked radiantly beautiful and attractive tonight.
“Sweet sixteen and never been kissed. Well, not so you’d notice. Listen, B.C., that there girl’s like a prairie rose, sure she’s kinda prickly, but it’s worth getting over the sting to possess the flower.”
Oh, actually, talking about ‘possessing flowers’ sounded a bit near the knuckle, so she explained it another way.
“See, women don’t like all this manly explainin’ yourself and bein’ all proud and right all the time. Women like men to be wrong all the time, and apologetic ,and wantin’ to mend their ways, but in a sort of manly way.” It was hard to explain, so she gave Brendan a solid example.
“Say, why don’t you go back over there, and say…” a this point, the 15 year old girl dropped her voice to a deep and slightly dumb sounding baritone and put her thumbs in some imaginary braces.
“… er, ‘listen here Miss Redmond. I see now that I been a darn fool, and I’d like to apologize for my silly foolishness and hope that you’ll forgive me and that we can be friends from now on.’ Then put out your hand and she can’t right politely refuse to shake it. Then later you can have a dance together and you won’t have to be stuck with me and Miss Ginger all night.”
She slapped him on the shoulder with a reassuring smile.
“Don’t be scared, I’ll back y’ up!”