"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
Mature Content: Unlikely, but hey, who knows?!
Author: Arabella Sumter Mudd.
With: Charles "Charlie" Wentworth Jnr.
Time of Day: Early afternoon.
Arabella always felt tickled to death and pretty full of herself whenever Mr Flandry was busy in the back and she was left temporarily in charge of the bar. Her Royal Domain was more or less empty this early afternoon in June, when someone she hadn’t seen for a while came through the swing doors: alone, unusually.
She didn’t know whether she was happy or not to see Charlie or, at least, to see him here. This probably meant that he’d fallen off the wagon. On the other hand, she considered him a good friend and it was always nice to see friends. Oh, sure, he was one of those slightly annoying friends that makes you constantly ask yourself ‘why the heck am I friends with this idiot?!’ but still a friend. He was also eminently and infinitely tease-able. Another thing she’d realised: he was completely and utterly uninterested in her as a woman and, well, she was done with fellers for good, anyway: ironically, that made him someone it was actually safe and fun to flirt with.
“Hello stranger.” She said coolly, polishing a glass, as he approached the bar “You come to give me my blue ribbon back?” She reminded him of the small scrap of azure cloth that she had once carried next to her heart, and which had given him by the Lakeside as a sort of amulet to help him overcome his over-drinking habit.
I took an oath for this job. The oath says bring him in. That's what I'll do.
Charlie pushed open the swing doors of the saloon and waited for eyes to adjust. It was rare for him to be in town during the week but it was his and Ben Hall's turn to escort Mrs. Carleton-Thornton into town and to pick up supplies. Miss Sarah, as most of the hands called her, was in the habit of making weekly trips to Kalispell and staying overnight at the hotel, to conduct business and some personal matters. Instead of letting her come to town alone, it was decided that two hands go with her each week and to make the trip worthwhile pick up any supplies that were needed.
Since the supplies wouldn't need to be loaded until prior to them leaving the next day, the trip gave the hands the opportunity to have most of the day and night to do whatever they pleased. After they had left the list of supplies at the general store, Ben had gone off somewhere, he had gone to visit his mother and to have lunch with her.
Now he was left to his own devices for the rest of the afternoon and he had decided to go find his cousin Ben who was teaching him some of the finer points of poker. Ben had initially stayed with his parents for a couple of weeks before he had found lodgings of his own. Charlie had checked there first before going to the hotel. Not finding Ben in either of those places, he was now at the Stardust.
Going up to the bar, he could see that Arabella was there. Even though he had seen her since their trip to the mission, he hadn't really talked to her, preferring to steer clear just in case he ended up promising to take her on another trip back there. The trip had made him realise the trouble he could get into by drinking strong spirits, especially whiskey, so now he was in the process of learning how moderate his consumption by sticking mainly to beer. He had also enlisted the help of his brothers and a couple of the other hands to make sure he didn't overdo it.
“Hello stranger.” She said coolly, polishing a glass, as he approached the bar “You come to give me my blue ribbon back?”
He frowned as she reminded him of the blue ribbon she had given him. It was somewhere but he couldn't remember where he had put it. So, he feigned a smile and said, "Hello Miss Arabella. I'm actually looking for my cousin, Ben Simons, you haven't seen him around today?"
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
He frowned as she reminded him of the blue ribbon she had given him. It was somewhere but he couldn't remember where he had put it. So, he feigned a smile and said, "Hello Miss Arabella. I'm actually looking for my cousin, Ben Simons, you haven't seen him around today?"
“Oh, Mr Fancy Pants? Uh-uh.” She shook her head. “He’s cleaned this place out, nobody’s got any money left to win or to pay fer their drinks.” She lied merrily “You havin’ a beer?” she asked. She’d noticed, with approval, that on his few visits he had studiously avoided the hard stuff. Talk of Ben reminded her:
“Oh say, I met your Mama the other day, at the Hotel. She sure is a nice lady! Well, you know that already, o’ course. Even old Fancy Pants is all right, really, he took me there. Oooh, but that Matt, he was SO rude to me! ‘Ooooh, your tea went cold, Mrs Devereau won’t know where you are, YOU’D better go home!’” It wasn’t really an accurate impersonation, just her generic dumb male voice.
“I never been so insulted: and that’s sayin’ some!” she concluded, pushing the beer toward him and holding out her hand for the money robotically.
"But he sure kept that big dummy Bridget there to talk to! And she can't string more than three words together! Hmmph! Maybe he likes her!" she said, cattily. "Well, serve him right if he tries to get ornery with her and comes back cryin' with a splinter in his hand!" she declared roundly, picking up another glass to polish.
I took an oath for this job. The oath says bring him in. That's what I'll do.
Charlie raised an eyebrow at Arabella's assessment of his older brother, Matt. It was no secret within the family, that Matt these days only had eyes for Miss Sarah. They usually shared a meal together on the days she was in town, so it probably wasn't much of a secret with some of the town's residents either. Since Arabella lived in a world of her own making most of the time, he wasn't surprised that she didn't know.
As it wasn't his place to inform or correct Arabella on something where the outcome was still unsure, he decided to turn the subject back to the person he came here to find in the first place. "I reckon Ben doesn't mind being called Mr. Fancy Pants as he's probably been called a lot worse due to his line of work."
Now that he was here and the offer had been made, he decided that it would be okay to have one drink, "And as for that beer, I think I'll have just one. Maybe cousin Ben will make an appearance while I'm drinking it. They do say that if you stay in one spot long enough, you usually find what you are looking for."
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
As it wasn't his place to inform or correct Arabella on something where the outcome was still unsure, he decided to turn the subject back to the person he came here to find in the first place. "I reckon Ben doesn't mind being called Mr. Fancy Pants as he's probably been called a lot worse due to his line of work."
“Oh I know!” nodded the Virginian girl “I heard what them fellers calls him when he wins all their money. Not to his face, o’ course, but when they come to the bar afterwards, countin’ their coppers, tryin’ to work out if they can still afford a drink!” she laughed. “Come to think of it…” she frowned “… he’s kinda bad fer business.” Oh well, that was Matilda’s problem, not hers.
Now that he was here and the offer had been made, he decided that it would be okay to have one drink, "And as for that beer, I think I'll have just one. Maybe cousin Ben will make an appearance while I'm drinking it. They do say that if you stay in one spot long enough, you usually find what you are looking for."
Her clear blue eyes looked at him with an interest that she rarely showed in anything he said. There was something that she was looking for, maybe if she stayed here long enough she would finally find it.
Arabella was then distracted by a white handkerchief being waved above the swing doors of the saloon, and then Lorenzo Crabbe’s head poking in, risking getting blown off by Ralph Flandry’s shot gun.
“Psst! Mudd!” he hissed “You seen Ben Simons this mornin’?” The professional gambler was the quarry in many people’s hunt this morning.
“Why don’t cha come in and have a drink?” Arabella suggested “They say that if you stay in one spot a long time, why, you always find what you’re looking for. Don’t worry, Mr Flandry’s forgotten all about you trying to recruit me fer your house of ill repute!” she lied brightly. She nodded to Charlie. “This here’s Fancy Pants’z cousin, Charlie Wentworth.”
Crabbe risked it, it was worth it for the suggestion he had for Simons or whatever Bent St. Clair was calling himself these days.
Crabbe nodded a howdy to Charlie “She’s only kidding about the… er.. thing. Even I couldn’t find a customer fer that o… anyway, so, yeah, how’s it going there, Mister Wentworth!”
I took an oath for this job. The oath says bring him in. That's what I'll do.
Charlie did a double take when he heard Arabella mentioning about being recruited for a house of ill-repute. For a moment, he wondered why Crabbe would have been interested in having someone like Arabella working for him as a lady of the night but when the man came up closer he could see that man wore glasses with thick lenses and that answered his question. The poor fellow probably had troubles seeing anything properly.
He had seen Crabbe around town a few times (Matt had pointed him out one day, explaining who he was) but this was the first that he had ever been up close to talk up. It didn't surprise Charlie, that the man knew his cousin. Even though Ben was generally a good person, his profession did allow him to be involved in some unusual things. Most of the times it was unintentional but sometimes it wasn't. Charlie didn't know which one of these, Crabbe fell under.
Seeing that Crabbe was being pleasant, Charlie decided not ask too much about what he did and just stick to being cordial, "It's going fine, other than the fact that I'm looking for Ben as well. It seems we both had the same idea that he could be found here."
Seeing that Crabbe was being pleasant, Charlie decided not ask too much about what he did and just stick to being cordial, "It's going fine, other than the fact that I'm looking for Ben as well. It seems we both had the same idea that he could be found here."
Arabella poured Crabbe a beer and insisted on him paying for it there and then, rather than set up a ‘tab’ that would never get paid off. She had learned to do that in her dealings with him early on.
“Hmmm.” Said the bespectacled man, moving back and surveying the youngest scion of the Wentworth family with some interest. “Say, er, Charlie..” he said, venturing to use his new acquaintance’s familiar name, “… you seem like a pretty nicely set up young feller. You ever been in a fight?”
Arabella couldn’t help remembering seeing Charlie’s brother Mike, much to her shock and disgust, giving the young man a knockout punch to the jaw at the barn dance. On the other hand, Charlie had been totally drunk at the time and probably would have had difficulty defending himself against an ant. She carried on with her glass polishing duties, humming a tune, but listened with interest to his reply to Crabbe’s question.
I took an oath for this job. The oath says bring him in. That's what I'll do.
A slightly amused look appeared on Charlie's face, "I've probably been in couple of fights while I've been drunk but I can't remember any of them. As for any fights while I've been sober, then answer is no."
He leaned against the bar, "If this has anything to do with what Ben was talking about the other night while he was playing poker with me and Sam, the answer is still no. Even if I wanted to, my brothers and father would make sure that I didn't. Part of the problem of being the youngest in the family, there's always someone who's been there and done that already."
Looking over at Arabella, he smiled and asked "How's that beer coming?" before turning his attention back to Crabbe, "Thanks to Arabella, I'm trying to turn over a new leaf and getting involved in any fights wouldn't be a good idea. After a few months of clean living, and most people including Clara Redmond won't recognise me."
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
A slightly amused look appeared on Charlie's face, "I've probably been in couple of fights while I've been drunk but I can't remember any of them. As for any fights while I've been sober, then answer is no."
“Well, I reckon a well-built feller like you would be a natural in the ring!” said Crabbe, starting into a line of patter that would soon have the young man convinced that he was going to be a second Tom Allen or Jem Mace.
He leaned against the bar, "If this has anything to do with what Ben was talking about the other night while he was playing poker with me and Sam, the answer is still no. Even if I wanted to, my brothers and father would make sure that I didn't. Part of the problem of being the youngest in the family, there's always someone who's been there and done that already."
“Wha..? Oh! Old cousin Bent’s been talking, has he!” grumbled Crabbe, annoyed that his guns had been spiked even before he’d started, and forgetting that St Clair was gong under a new name now. At this rate the boxing match would comprise of Simons and Crabbe belting seven bells out of each other which, to be fair, some people would pay to see!
Looking over at Arabella, he smiled and asked "How's that beer coming?" before turning his attention back to Crabbe.
Arabella just had to swipe off the excess foam with a ruler-like doo-dad before she plonked it on the bar in front of Charlie with a cheery “There ya go!”
"Thanks to Arabella, I'm trying to turn over a new leaf and getting involved in any fights wouldn't be a good idea. After a few months of clean living, and most people including Clara Redmond won't recognise me."
Arabella nodded proudly but rolled her eyes at Clara’s name, friend though she was.
“Yeah, I know this Clara gal, Redmond, Clara Redmond. Sure, nice girl, stood up for my Bridget when some bullies were mean to her.” Well, that was his public description of the pie-store assistant: in his own private notation, she was:
- Age: 16, legal in most States and Territories of the Contiguous United State
- Looks: A little pug-nosed and heavy browed, large feet, but attractive enough for regular work
- Temperament: Serious, prudish and humorless, but nevertheless might get herself into trouble, given luck, and come onto the market
He sighed, still regretting the lack of available local talent that had stopped him opening his planned bordello.
“Oh, Clara, Clara,Clara! That’s all I hear!” grumped Arabella. “Well, you’re out of luck anyway, Charlie boy, because Clara’s got a regular beau now. Yep, while you was in the beer tent at the dance, she was getting swept off her feet by Jacob Lutz!” She let that little bolt hit home, enjoying watching the reaction, but hoping it didn’t send her pet reformed drunkard back to the bottle.
I took an oath for this job. The oath says bring him in. That's what I'll do.
"Jacob Lutz...that scrawny farmer boy related to Granny Miggins?" Charlie frowned. This is what he hadn't expected. Clara, it seemed to him at least, wasn't too interested in romance and in particular too young for anything serious. However, getting all dressed like she was on the night of the dance must have went to head and she picked the first boy who had gushed all over her. From what he knew about the Lutz boy that was probably the case. There was a hand at Lost Lake who was a cousin or brother, he couldn't remember which, to some girl that Lutz had a dalliance with a while back. The hand had mentioned that Lutz was rather fond of sprouting poetry and that the girl in question had been quite taken with it until her father had intervened.
Still, Clara was a sensible girl and Charlie hoped that she had enough sense not to do anything she would regret in the future. Maybe, he should have ignored his decision to wait until she was older and knew some more about life before he started courting her. He had wanted Clara to experience what it was like to be young, carefree and do all the things girls her age should be doing.
There was one thing he needed to find out. Ignoring Crabbe, he looked at Arabella, "Just how serious is this relationship between Clara and Lutz?"