"Yes, Dear"
Posted January 16, 2021 | Jacob Lutz
“Oh, do you think we should ask him?” asked Jacob.
"No, I do not," Clara gave a quick survey about the barn then added, "I do not even see him right now. Probably having a beer and discussing the spring planting with a few of the other farmers. Now my father is not a drinker but on occasion does enjoy a bit of imbibing. He is entitled for he is a hard worker and a fine family man."
Actually, Jacob would have quite liked to have joined in that conversation: it was his contention that it was still far too wet to plow, and a careful choice of crops would be needed to produce an optimum yield in the present weather. But the choice between that and walking out with a girl of Clara’s beauty, no contest.
“There’s no need to explain” he assured her “I’m sure Mr. Redmond is a model of sobriety, and there’s nothing wrong with a social drink. I don’t happen to touch the stuff because I just don’t like the taste.” He said. He wanted her to know that he wasn’t the drunk and disorderly type. One swig of Granny’s homebrewed ‘Chill Tonic’ when he was nine had given him the cure in that direction.
"Besides....what with all this dancing and the crowd of people I must admit I am feeling a bit ....heated.”
She did look pretty hot, that was for sure. “Maybe a walk outside to view the firmament and then a stop at the drink tent for a lemonade on the way back might be nice.” He suggested, trying to make the jaunt sound as harmless as possible.
“I would truly appreciate a few moments outside to cool off with some fresh air," Clara was not above making something up on the spur of the moment if it aided her cause long as there was no harm done.
He managed to affect a pleased look which stopped short of jumping in the air, shouting ‘wooohooo!’ and springing cartwheels all around the place.
This was it, they were going on a stroll in the moonlight! Plain old Jacob ‘Hayseed’ Lutz and the radiant Miss Clara Redmond. It was sublime and ridiculous all at the same time and he couldn't help being scared that he would wake up any second and it would all just be a dream.
“Clara, can I ask you something?” he said seriously. “I’m a little inexperienced with ladies and don’t want to overstep any bounds. Should I take your arm? Or is that too forward?”
"Smokey! Sic em, boy, sic em!"
Posted January 16, 2021 | Nellie Miggins
"A fence? You mean, no sleeping with you?" He let out a breath, he didn't know he'd been holding. "Oh...a fence. I guess, I could do that."
“Sure, it’s a fence I need; not some filthy minded hanky-panky!” Mrs Miggins declared. “Kissin’ an’ Cuddlin’ ain’t gonna keep them no good cattle off my crops now is it?!”
"But no other demands, right. I'll do the fence for you and you'll keep your mouth shut. ...”
“Deal!” answered the Grandmotherly looking figure, thrusting out her right hand, and these were the days when a gripping flesh like that meant more than a bunch of scribbled words on paper contract. “And now, Mr. Jay Ryker, we’ll drink on it!” she added, pulling a bottle of her own home brewed licker out of her apron pocket. She pulled the stopper out with her still-strong teeth an spat it on the floor before taking a long glug and shoving the bottle in Jay’s direction.
“How do you know my name?"
“Ohhh, I got a special way of finding stuff like that out…” she whispered conspiratorially, before shouting out loud “It’s called ASKING FOLK!”
“Now listen” she said seriously “What I said before about this bein’ dangerous, I wasn’t kidding about that. Ranchers don’t like barbed wire, they might try and stop us puttin’ it up, you savvy? And my farm borders on the outskirts of Lost Lake and Evergreen, just like the Redmond place, so I got double trouble if they want to kick up a ruckus over it. So you need to bring yer shootin’ irons with you when you come, see.”
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
Posted January 16, 2021 | Arabella Mudd
“Oh yippee, a fast un!” squealed Arabella, clapping her hands. “Now, I like it rough, so don’t hold back on throwing me all about the place, Cap’n … say, what’s yer name Mister, who’m I havin’ the pleasure with?!”
Benjamin blinked, "You might not want to use that 'I like it rough' line with menfolk, just a word of kindly advice."
“Why not?” frowned Arabella. Maybe he meant that they might think she wanted a fight, she wondered, but he didn’t stop to explain, moving swiftly on to the introduction.
"Yes, my fault. My name is Benjamin. Benjamin Barlow," he decided to forego the military rank, she already knew that anyhow. Besides he was not on duty.
“Oooh, ‘Captain Benjamin Barlow’! Don’t that sound fine?!” she cooed, her voice going all gooey and her face becoming a picture of glassy-eyed rapture. “So, when you get married, the lucky lady’s going to be a-callin’ herself ‘Mrs. Captain Benjamin Barlow’! Oooh, that sure does sound mighty fine!” she melted. She pulled herself out of her rapture as the dance was about to start, but she couldn’t help glancing between Captain Benjamin Barlow, Army Hero, and Mike Wentworth, ranch person, who was standing over yonder ignoring her, and doing a sort of mental comparison. Hmmm. Mr. Wentworth had saved her life, but he couldn't keep cashing in on that forever!
Of course one drawback to such fast dances such as these it did make conversation much more difficult than a gentle swaying waltz, however, Arabella, more than made up for it with the ear-splitting whoops, screams and yelps of delight as the Captain did his duty manfully and threw her around the dance floor like a rag doll.
Once the exciting and energetic dance was done, all too quickly in the Virginian girl’s opinion, she fair staggered off the floor, her hair in disarray and her face flushed, leaning on the good Captain’s arm for support, and causing a look of disapproval from fossilized members of the Townswoman’s Guide as she loudly panted “Crikey Cap, you sure know how to satisfy a gal! That was the roughest seein’-to I ever got at a Saturday night dance!”
Retired Characters and NPC Writer.
Posted January 16, 2021 | Jay Ryker
Her hand was there before he could question anything that was going on and Jay found himself reaching for it and shaking it firmly. Perhaps it was the relief of not having to sleep with her or the relief, that one day, if all went well, he might actually be sleeping with the right kind of woman. And he already had a good idea, who that might be.
The liquor from her pocket was another surprise, but a welcome one. Reaching for it he nodded towards her. "Thank you." Took a good long swig to calm himself down a little. The home made stuff burnt down his throat like fire and made him cough a little. "Holy smokes, that tastes like...wonderful."
He had another smaller sip. No need to anger the woman, who had him by the balls now.
He made a mental note of the information about the land because he would have to do some research on that.
"I always bring my gun...but as you know. Use it too seldom, unlike you." That little jab was necessary.
Then he briefly listed his shirt to show her the scar that her bullet had left. "You got me."
Maybe a little bad conscience would help his case.
Posted January 17, 2021 | Clara Redmond Lutz
“Maybe a walk outside to view the firmament and then a stop at the drink tent for a lemonade on the way back might be nice.” He suggested.
Yes, lemonade was a good idea, Clara realized .
“I would truly appreciate a few moments outside to cool off with some fresh air," Clara replied.
“Clara, can I ask you something?” he said seriously. “I’m a little inexperienced with ladies and don’t want to overstep any bounds. Should I take your arm? Or is that too forward?”
And Clara was more than a little inexperienced with boys so she had to think on a few seconds before answering.
"Well....perhaps you should not in here...in public. We have just met afterall. But once we are outside I would not mind it," she believed she had come up in a good middle of the road solution.
And with that the pair finished the last of the waltz, nodded to each other and exchanged 'thank yous' before then making their way out the wide barn doors into the cool evening air. Though outwardly calm, Clara's heart was pounding in excitement even nervousness. This farm boy was so much nicer to get along with than those cowpokes. He was literally a breath of fresh air.
Posted January 17, 2021 | Benjamin Barlow
"Oooh, ‘Captain Benjamin Barlow’! Don’t that sound fine?!” she cooed.
"The name I was given at birth, the rank I've earned," he commented rather bemused by this child. She must wear out her folks.
“So, when you get married, the lucky lady’s going to be a-callin’ herself ‘Mrs. Captain Benjamin Barlow’! Oooh, that sure does sound mighty fine!”
"I doubt she would use the rank in that but no matter as I have no real plans to get married. As many a bachelor career officer would tell you we are married to the army. I do not think I am cut out for civilian life, I like it right where I am," he informed her calmly.
The dance was fast paced and short because of it. Not every dancer had the stamina for a long performance. The girl plainly enjoyed herself though as she clung to him while they vacated the dance floor. That drew a few stares from some folk but Benjamin willfully ignored them. Frankly he did not care what they thought, he knew he was doing nothing wrong and the girl, well it was simply youthful excitement on her part.
"Crikey Cap, you sure know how to satisfy a gal! That was the roughest seein’-to I ever got at a Saturday night dance!”
Again her choice of words...lord above. Her folks would probably horrified to hear that. But it was not his place to give her lessons in proper conversation.
"Well...on that note then, I thank you for the dance, young lady, and I need to take my leave. I intend on parching my thirst with a drink at the beer tent. Good evening," he smiled then gave a nod of the head sort of bow.
"Smokey! Sic em, boy, sic em!"
Posted January 18, 2021 | Nellie Miggins
The liquor from her pocket was another surprise, but a welcome one. Reaching for it he nodded towards her. "Thank you." Took a good long swig to calm himself down a little. The home made stuff burnt down his throat like fire and made him cough a little. "Holy smokes, that tastes like...wonderful."
Granny always liked to be complimented on her homebrewed firewater. “Keep the bottle!” she offered. Suddenly Jay was pressing all her right buttons.
"I always bring my gun...but as you know. Use it too seldom, unlike you." That little jab was necessary.
“I shoot first and ask questions later, that’s the way round these parts if you don’t wanna get shot yerself. And I don’t fire no warning shots, neither!” she lectured.
Then he briefly listed his shirt to show her the scar that her bullet had left. "You got me."
His body was pale but finely formed, his abdominal muscles highlighted in relief in the lamplight. The elderly lady took off her glasses and gave them a rub on her apron before replacing them for to get a real good look at Jay’s masculine form. Then she remembered that she was meant to be looking at the wound. “Hmm, not bad. You’d ha’ been a goner if’n I’d had my shootin’ spectacles on.” She told him.
As he pulled his shirt back down, she looked him up and down appraisingly.
“You’d better have another swig of that moonshine.” She advised him. “Get some Dutch courage before you go back to that dance and make it up with that little girl you’re sweet on. You should get some sparkin’ in there while she’s still wearin’ proper wimmin’s clothes!” she declared, presumably talking about Addy.
Retired Characters and NPC Writer.
Posted January 18, 2021 | Jay Ryker
It did not go unnoticed that granny was checking more than the wound, she had inflicted, which once again raised the question of her real intentions. Who knew whether the fence was really the end of her demands.
Jay was relaxing a bit when she even offered him to keep the bottle. This was definetly different from the idea he had half an hour ago, when he thought, he would have to leave Addy and Weedy and the whole new life behind, that he had started to built. Desperation had changed to something better. He just wasn't sure what it was yet.
Jay took another swig and placed the bottle on a small wooden table. She had even suggested that he'd go back to the woman, he was sweet on. Maybe she wasn't all that terrible after all.
"Thank you, mam....what do I call you?"
Before he left he had to tell her one more thing, though. "I swear you're not making a mistake by keeping my secret hidden. I'm not a bad person, I just ran with foul company. But since I arrived here I've not done anything bad."
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
Posted January 18, 2021 | Arabella Mudd
"The name I was given at birth, the rank I've earned," he commented rather bemused by this child. She must wear out her folks.
Arabella was open-mouthed at the awesomeness of this statement.
“So, when you get married, the lucky lady’s going to be a-callin’ herself ‘Mrs. Captain Benjamin Barlow’! Oooh, that sure does sound mighty fine!”
"I doubt she would use the rank in that but no matter as I have no real plans to get married. As many a bachelor career officer would tell you we are married to the army. I do not think I am cut out for civilian life, I like it right where I am," he informed her calmly.
Bachelor huh? Good.
“Oh, I wouldn’t ever try and make you leave the army if I married ya, I’d be that proud to be married to a officer: ‘How dya do? I’m Mrs Captain Bejamin Barlow, U.S. Cavalry.’ Gee Cap, I think you should get married, maybe to a nice Southern girl, y'know, healing the divide.”
She had another argument up her sleeve, too.
“I think takin’ a Mrs Barlow would be good for your career, too: I mean, all them big Army Generals is married, ain’t they? Like General Useless Grant, and General George Armstong Custard, and General Terry…, er, I don’t know his second name, but I’m pretty sure he’s married, too.”
After the dance, the good Captain tried to say his goodbyes, but he hadn’t reckoned with the Clinch Mountain barnacle.
"Well...on that note then, I thank you for the dance, young lady, and I need to take my leave. I intend on parching my thirst with a drink at the beer tent. Good evening," he smiled then gave a nod of the head sort of bow.
“Oh, that’s good, I’m a headin’ that way m’self!” she beamed happily, taking his arm and hanging on like a limpet: the kind of limpet that other limpets criticise for being ‘too clingy’.
“I work at the saloon so I know all them folks in the beer tent, like Mr Flandry, he’s the barman and he’s got a beard like you, and Mammy Cookie, she’s a big fat black lady and I love her and she used to be a slave but she ‘scaped on the railroad, and I’m allowed to go behind the bar, well it’s more like a table really, but it’s like the bar tonight and I could get you your beer so you don’t have to get in line, because I reckon that’s beneath your station, what with you bein’ a war hero and all.” She chattered away breathlessly as they walked.
Messalina saw them coming and shook her head: she figured the officer was probably a vet of war between the states, not to mention forays against the savage Indians, but had probably never had to weather a barrage like the one he was being subjected to now.
Arabella introduced him excitedly.
“Cookie! Cookie! Permit me to introduce Captain Benjamin Barlow” she yelped, then struck a dramatic pose. “The name he was given at birth, the rank he hath earned!”
“Beer Cap’n?” asked the cook “Or do you feel in need a something stronger?!”
"Smokey! Sic em, boy, sic em!"
Posted January 19, 2021 | Nellie Miggins
Jay took another swig and placed the bottle on a small wooden table. She had even suggested that he'd go back to the woman, he was sweet on. Maybe she wasn't all that terrible after all.
"Thank you, mam....what do I call you?"
“Mrs Miggins to you!” Nellie informed him, in no uncertain terms. “Just cause I’m keepin’ quiet about your little escapades don’t mean you should be getting’ over-familiar!” she warned.
Before he left he had to tell her one more thing, though. "I swear you're not making a mistake by keeping my secret hidden. I'm not a bad person, I just ran with foul company. But since I arrived here I've not done anything bad."
“Hmmm, we’ll see!” said the old woman. To be frank, she didn’t give two hoots about whether Mr. Jay Ryker was a devil or an angel when he was in town, as long as he behaved himself and did a good job of the barbed wire when he came out to her homestead.
Now, there was only one person in the whole wide world whom Nellie Miggins would admit to that she’d made a mistake, and that person was Nellie Miggins. Thus it was that she now began to regret and chide herself for encouraging Jay to go back to the Chappel woman and make things up. She still had an unmarried old spinster of a Granddaughter back at the homestead, all of 25 years old. Sure, she'd been a little sickly of late, been practically shut-in all of Winter, but now she seemed a little better, sitting up and even walking around a mite. Maybe…