Posted January 25, 2021 | Clara Redmond Lutz
“That’s what I wondered. You might want to tell your Pa that, well, a few years ago…” he looked like he was about to tell her that there was a dead body buried there “… I was passing by that field and I noticed it’s liable to flooding come Fall. Course, we had a passing dry September last year. Still, made me wonder if he’d ever dabbled in asparagus, your Pa. They do say asparagus loves wet soil.”
"Oh? Interesting. We have been here one fall already and the field was as dry as any. But we both know weather can vary. So I will be certain to pass that along though, thank you," Clara nodded, he was trying to be helpful afterall.
“Read any good books lately?” he now asked.
"Actually Miss Emeline, you know, my employer, is letting me borrow some of her fine collection. She has quite the variety. Mostly fiction but I do enjoy fiction," Clara answered.
"Nothing on Greeks or the planets though I have sad to inform you," she added with a bit of a smile.
She supposed that she really should ask him something? He was trying so hard to carry the conversation, that much was obvious. Besides, she wanted to know more about him also.
"So, Jacob, enlighten me then a bit about you. What do you do for entertainment, pleasure, past time?"
She might just discover an activity they could do together then? Well, besides what he had in mind just minutes earlier. She was not ready for that.
"Yes, Dear"
Posted January 26, 2021 | Jacob Lutz
“Read any good books lately?” he now asked.
"Actually Miss Emeline, you know, my employer, is letting me borrow some of her fine collection. She has quite the variety. Mostly fiction but I do enjoy fiction," Clara answered.
Jacob nodded enthusiastically: like Clara, he had the reading bug, but unfortunately didn’t have a reliable source of new literature, like the lucky Miss Redmond. Bout time they built a library around here, never mind all this talk of hospitals and orphanages. He wondered if Miss Emeline had anything he might be interested in.
“I think it’s wonderful to find anyone else around here who loves reading.” He said in heartfelt tones. “I mostly like history books, about ancient times and such but I actually did read a novel last year, by accident. It was called ‘Roughing It’*. I thought it was a sort of survival manual for living out in the wild, but it turned out fiction. Funniest thing I ever read, mind.” He added, grinning dopily.
“So, your Miss Emeline’s a good source of books then?” he asked; you could almost hear the cogs spinning in his brain.
"Nothing on Greeks or the planets though I have sad to inform you," she added with a bit of a smile.
“Oh, I’m not hard to get along with, I’ll read anything!” he assured her.
"So, Jacob, enlighten me then a bit about you. What do you do for entertainment, pleasure, past time?"
He shrugged a little. “Well, you know, usual stuff a feller does; hunting, fishing, I read a good deal, as you know. Mostly I just like to wander …” he looked off into the distance, staring at the Moon and Venus in the sky. “I like to lie on my back up in the mountains at night, just looking off into the stars … millions and millions of miles away … past beyond the angels … and, well, just thinking about the bigness of it all. I think that you loose that in town, everbody’s just looking at the next step ahead of them on the boardwalk, pressing their noses against store windows. But looking up there…”
He snapped out of it.
“The other thing, don’t tell anybody…” he looked a little shy now “… I write poems, too. Nothing… not epics, not like Paradise Lost or anything… just fragments really… just trying to, I don’t know, get it out of me. I’ve never even shown them to anybody, not even my sister. I suppose it’s just ... too private, it’s like baring your soul. Sometimes I can barely stand to read them myself. I just write them and burn them.” He laughed a little at himself and his odd ways “Or feed ‘em to the hogs.”
“Do you ever do that?” he asked her now, remembering not to hog the conversation “…write, I mean, not feed poems to hogs!”
* by Mark Twain, 1872.
Posted January 26, 2021 | Clara Redmond Lutz
The boy certainly seemed quite sincere and enthusiastic about books and reading. Clara was impressed. It also proved something. City folk sometimes seemed to think farm people were ignorant rustics and she never liked that attitude.
"Roughing It? I will remember that if ever I should spot it someplace," Clara declared. Then at his mention of her employer she had an idea.
"Say, I will ask her if she would mind if you borrow a few of her books, that is if you interested. I am quite confident she would not refuse, she is most generous that way. Just make sure you are responsible enough to return them once you have finished them."
Clara of course had been diligent and punctual about a quick turnaround when she borrowed volumes from the kindly woman.
She then inquired about the sort of things he did for what bits of leisure time he might have between farm work, fun activities as it were. Yes, even she had occasions where she indulged in a bit of fun. Life did not have to be all work.
His early listing of activities sounded very much like some typical boy, Wyatt would approve of any of them. Well, until he got to the part about being enthralled by staring up into the stars. And he expressed it quite elegantly too.
"Well said, Jacob," she sincerely complimented him.
But then he added a revelation she would never have guessed. Poetry. He wrote poetry?! At first it sounded hard to believe but on second thought what with all his love of books and his suprisingly impressive way of speaking, it did make sense.
"So, Jacob Lutz, a poet? You are quite the unique young fellow I must say. Although it does seem rather a waste of time and effort if you simply destroy them rather than share with a reader. Perhaps they are quite good, people might just enjoy them?"
The reality was, in fact she had declared such to Miss Emeline when they discussed books and yes, poetry, that she personally did not like poetry. It seemed foolish and held no interest for her. Still, she was not about to admit that to Jacob. In this particular case just MAYBE, she might peruse his work and approve. Now her own favorite pastime, though granted she seldom got to do it, now seemed much more mundane. She liked to swim in the small lake just off their farm property. Nothing was more refreshing after a stretch of hard labor on a hot summer day.
"Well, we do not have hogs although Father has expressed an interest someday in purchasing a few. And no, I have never attempted to write poetry. I do not think I would be very good at it anyhow. Although...."she paused then continued, "I would someday like to read at least one of yours. Perhaps you might wrote a poem about me? I would be honored of course."
"Yes, Dear"
Posted January 27, 2021 | Jacob Lutz
"Roughing It? I will remember that if ever I should spot it someplace," Clara declared. Then at his mention of her employer she had an idea.
Jacob shrugged. “Well, we might have very different tastes, but I don’t think you know if you’ll like something unless you try it one time.” He was presumably talking about literature.
"Say, I will ask her if she would mind if you borrow a few of her books, that is if you interested. I am quite confident she would not refuse, she is most generous that way. Just make sure you are responsible enough to return them once you have finished them."
The rustic lad shook his head almost dolefully. “No need to worry there, I do hate to borrow anything.” He revealed. “Be it as small as a tack, it sort of weighs heavy on my soul until it’s returned to its rightful owner. It’s like old adage: ‘Never a lender nor borrower be’. I’ll never be a debtor if I can help it, that’s one good thing.” The very idea of being in debt seemed to revolt his very soul. “New books to read are the one exception, that’s the one forbidden fruit that I’m tempted enough to borrow.”
His early listing of activities sounded very much like some typical boy, Wyatt would approve of any of them. Well, until he got to the part about being enthralled by staring up into the stars. And he expressed it quite elegantly too.
"Well said, Jacob," she sincerely complimented him.
He shook his head a little in surprise at the compliment. When you talked about something as beautiful as the night sky, or the majestic scenery of Northern Montana, or a girl like Clara Redmond, well, it was hard not to wax poetical.
"So, Jacob Lutz, a poet? You are quite the unique young fellow I must say. Although it does seem rather a waste of time and effort if you simply destroy them rather than share with a reader. Perhaps they are quite good, people might just enjoy them?"
He frowned a little at that idea. “I doubt that. And I certainly wouldn't enjoy anyone reading them. It’d be like …” he searched for a suitable embarrassing simile “… being stripped naked and paraded down Main Street!” He smiled at that. “No, I think the hogs enjoy them more than any potential reader of the things, anyway.”
"Well, we do not have hogs although Father has expressed an interest someday in purchasing a few. And no, I have never attempted to write poetry. I do not think I would be very good at it anyhow. Although...."she paused then continued, "I would someday like to read at least one of yours. Perhaps you might wrote a poem about me? I would be honored of course."
“What makes you think that I haven’t already?” he grinned sheepishly, before adding “I didn’t feed those ones to the hogs. I can assure you. Mind you, though, they’re pretty well hid!”
He quickly moved on from the subject, feeling a little exposed.
“And how about you, Clara? I know that you like to read, too. But, well, if you had a whole day off of work, how would you spend it?” he asked by way of enquiry about her pastimes.
Posted January 28, 2021 | Clara Redmond Lutz
Jacob shrugged. “Well, we might have very different tastes, but I don’t think you know if you’ll like something unless you try it one time.”
"Words of wisdom I suppose," Clara responded.
They talked of book borrowing and it was soon apparent the boy was almost horrified at the mere thought of lending and owing. Clara saw no harm in borrowing books from her employer and felt Jacob was a bit dramatic about it all, but she did not press the issue.
The subject moved on to of all things, poetry and turned out Jacob was a poet of sorts though had no plans of sharing his works. She pointed out it might just be they were of some quality and readers may possibly enjoy them?
“I doubt that. And I certainly wouldn't enjoy anyone reading them. It’d be like …” he searched for a suitable embarrassing simile “… being stripped naked and paraded down Main Street!”
"Gosh, that would be something to see," Clara declared before realizing what she had just said and quickly backtracking, "I mean yes, I could understand your embarrassment." Not that she wouldn't be curious to witness such a sight. Of course it was all just nonsensical, that would never happen.
She did find out then that actually he had written a few about her! She would dearly love to see those but she doubted there was anything she could say to convince him to reveal them. Well, maybe some day. That is if they saw each other again....as in socially not merely him being a customer in the diner.
“And how about you, Clara? I know that you like to read, too. But, well, if you had a whole day off of work, how would you spend it?”
"Well.....it would depend on the season I suppose. In winter I would curl up by the fireplace with a good book. Now in warm weather, I like to..........." she almost hesitated in revealing this but she wanted to be open with him given how much he had been with her.
"We have a small lake bordering our property, it is a secluded sort of place. So when I am heated from some physical labor and perspiring, I go swimming in it. It is so refreshing. I know many folks do not even know how to swim but I learned young as did Wyatt, my brother. It is quite the different sort of experience," she calmly recounted.
"Yes, Dear"
Posted January 28, 2021 | Jacob Lutz
“I doubt that. And I certainly wouldn't enjoy anyone reading them. It’d be like …” he searched for a suitable embarrassing simile “… being stripped naked and paraded down Main Street!”
"Gosh, that would be something to see," Clara declared before realizing what she had just said and quickly backtracking, "I mean yes, I could understand your embarrassment." Not that she wouldn't be curious to witness such a sight. Of course it was all just nonsensical, that would never happen.
“Yes, they’re very small you see, people are more impressed by size than anything.” he said, then shrugged. “If I ever get the nerve to show them to you, I hope you aren’t disappointed.” Presumably, he was talking about his stanzas.
“And how about you, Clara? I know that you like to read, too. But, well, if you had a whole day off of work, how would you spend it?”
"Well.....it would depend on the season I suppose. In winter I would curl up by the fireplace with a good book. Now in warm weather, I like to..........." she almost hesitated in revealing this but she wanted to be open with him given how much he had been with her.
“Yes?” he frowned curiously at her pause. She seemed to collect herself and start again.
"We have a small lake bordering our property, it is a secluded sort of place. So when I am heated from some physical labor and perspiring, I go swimming in it. It is so refreshing. I know many folks do not even know how to swim but I learned young as did Wyatt, my brother. It is quite the different sort of experience," she calmly recounted.
He smiled. “It’s right that women should learn to swim, you know, when a big ship goes down, very few of the ladies survive because they’re weighed down by their crinolines and can’t swim a stroke. I’m a glutton for swimming, too, we just don’t have anywhere suitable near our place.” He looked at her perfect little face on top of her perfect little body in her elegant dress.
“Clara, I can only imagine how you look in your bathing costume!” he said, not realising that for bathing he should say birthday, and for costume he should say suit.
Posted January 28, 2021 | Brendan Connolly
Brendan had just started to forget his mistake (or multiple mistakes, rather) with Clara and was just beginning to feel the effects of the combined four? five? six? beers he had inhaled along with Charlie and the Lost Lake hands.
Then who should come marching up but Arabella, holding onto the arm of that army captain who'd been dancing with Bridget. Brendan, rather fuzzily, thought that he should go check on her, but he focused on the more immediate problem. "Oh, Lordy, here comes Arabella," he muttered in warning to the other hands.
But thankfully, the girl went up to Charlie instead of him. And it seemed he had promised Arabella to go to a Catholic mission with her and Bridget? Or at least Arabella thought he had promised that? Brendan shook his head. He really needed to steer clear of Arabella, or he would wind up promising her the moon.
“Do I smell or sumthin?! My men always run away from me! I mean, look at me: I can sing, I can play the pianna and tell funny jokes; I can dance, I can turn cartwheels; I’m interestin’ to talk to, I’m… pretty.” Her voice faltered at the last part, but she rallied and frowned again “What wrong with all o’ you fellers anyhow?!” she demanded and then looked down at their empty glasses. “What is it, boys, five beers?”
"Uh..." Brendan echoed Charlie's first response to Arabella, because what else could you say to her? How could you tell her that she was much too young - and talkative - to be the object of any normal man's desire? But there was one of her questions he could answer...or try to answer.
"Five beers...I reckon? Could be more, but once it gets past ten..." He shrugged and held up his fingers to illustrate his counting method. It was a joke, of course, so he followed it up with a slightly dopey version of his normal smile.
"What are you doin' here? This ain't no place for little girls."
Posted January 29, 2021 | Clara Redmond Lutz
"Yes, they’re very small you see, people are more impressed by size than anything.” he said, then shrugged. “If I ever get the nerve to show them to you, I hope you aren’t disappointed.”
Actually Clara was oblivious to any other possible meanings except he seemed awfully concerned about the size of poems? Strange but then poets were a bit ....different sorts anyhow. She had to say something so....
"Oh, I am certain I will not be."
Then Clara answered his question about favorite activities she liked to do. Naturally she included reading books but she decided to be bold and point out her very real enjoyment of swimming. Perhaps not very lady like but she knew what liked. He actually seemed to approve though.
“It’s right that women should learn to swim, you know, when a big ship goes down, very few of the ladies survive because they’re weighed down by their crinolines and can’t swim a stroke. I’m a glutton for swimming, too, we just don’t have anywhere suitable near our place.”
Funny, he did not mention swimming before among his favorite activities? Perhaps he was just looking to be agreeable no matter what she said?
"Well then I guess I am prepared when that big ship sinks in our lake," she joked, trying to work on practicing her sense of humor most people claimed she lacked. Perhaps with some truth to it.
“Clara, I can only imagine how you look in your bathing costume!” he opined.
Oh yes, out East women had taken up fancy outfits to swim in. She had seen a few drawings of them in a catalog at a general store once but that was her lone experience with such. They looked as heavy to swim in as most dresses.
"I cannot afford some luxuries. My wardrobe is quite limited I have to admit. As I told you before this is not even my dress but Miss Emeline kindly loaned it to me for the dance," she explained.
She decided not to go into any further detail.
"Yes, Dear"
Posted January 29, 2021 | Jacob Lutz
"Well then I guess I am prepared when that big ship sinks in our lake," she joked, trying to work on practicing her sense of humor most people claimed she lacked. Perhaps with some truth to it.
“Big shi…” Jacob wondered what she meant. No! Surely not! She was making a funny remark.
His lips curled into a smile. “He he” he managed a laugh that was maybe a bit forced but the smile was genuine enough. “That’s a … that’s a good one!” he assured her.
“Clara, I can only imagine how you look in your bathing costume!” he opined.
"I cannot afford some luxuries. My wardrobe is quite limited I have to admit. As I told you before this is not even my dress but Miss Emeline kindly loaned it to me for the dance," she explained.
“So, when you go swimming, you have to…” he followed his natural train of thought, but then looked down the railroad track a piece and saw where that train was heading. “Oh, you wear your, without the, er…” the thought of Clara swimming around in her altogether was having an unfortunate affect on his powers of speech as well as other parts of his anatomy. Damn! This was embarrassing. His old Sunday pants felt suddenly very constricting about the nether regions. He tried desperately to think of something less … arousing to talk about.
“Pies!” he shouted suddenly, then tried to should less strange and abnormal. “Er, you and Ms blakely make an awful lot of different types of pies, huh?” But now, for some reason, he had a bizarre image of Clara, stark naked in the diner making pies and getting flour all over herself. Oh Lord, that was even more erotic than thinking about her swimming without her duds on.
Barbed wire. That was it! He almost sighed with relief at the boringness of barbed wire. He felt things calming down.
“I mean, never mind the pies. Er.. Say Clara! Do you ever get stray cattle straying on your land and ruining your crops?”
Posted January 29, 2021 | Mike Wentworth
For most of the night Mike had been enjoying himself dancing with a variety of both single and married women. Part of his job as foreman at Lost Lake was to maintain good relationships with those who lived in town and he was happy to oblige especially when it came to dancing with the unmarried daughters of various businessmen and landowners.
He was about to head on over to the pit where the last of the beef was being served to get a second helping and to check on some of his men who were gathered there to make sure that they weren't getting into any trouble when he stopped by his father. Charles, Sr. had been keeping a watchful eye on his youngest son for most of the evening but had become distracted by a discussion with some local farmers about the new hospital and orphanage that Leah Steelgrave was planning. They too were a bit wary about anything the Steelgraves were involved in.
By the time, Charles had finished talking to them, he had lost sight of Charlie, but he knew where to find him. Seeing that his son was well on the way to being very intoxicated, Charles had decided to get Mike and enlist his help. Mike agreed with his father that it was time to take Charlie home. Thankfully, both of them could now stay at their father's house instead of Matt's hotel whenever they had to stay overnight in town.
Quickly scanning the room for Matt, Mike could see that he was enjoying another dance with Mrs. Thornton-Carlton and he smiled. The way things were going between those two he wouldn't be surprised if heard an announcement in the near future.
After his father told him that he was going to get his buggy to help ferry Charlie home, Mike headed over to the beer tent. He was approaching the group that Charlie was part of when he heard one of the young men there say...
"What are you doin' here? This ain't no place for little girls."
Mike looked over to the girl, the young man was addressing and was slightly dismayed to see that it was Arabella. It wasn't that he disliked the girl, he just wished that she would get over the hero worship she had for him. Even though he had only interacted with Arabella on few occasions it was enough for anyone else who had happened to be with him to see that she was more than grateful towards him.
Still, he was a gentleman, and he couldn't ignore the child and so when he got near enough, he nodded in Arabella's direction, "Miss Mudd, he's right this isn't the place for a young lady."
Turning to Charlie, he smiled, "And this isn't the place for you either. It's time to say goodnight."