“I know what happened to her, Arabella,” Brendan said quietly.
He knew, and that was the reason he couldn’t stop thinking about Bridget. Anyone who’d been through what she had didn’t deserve to end up back on the streets.
His news about Crabbe’s supposed death was an even bigger shock to Arabella than he’d thought it would be, and it shocked the breakfast out of her. He looked away while she vomited, trying to block out the horrible heaving noises.
Finally she was finished. He looked back at her. “Huh? Oh, sorry.” He hadn’t thought about her long hair getting in the way.
“No, it weren’t nice.” He grinned a little bit. “Arabella, your face looks like green cheese.”
Maybe green cheese didn’t actually look like her face, but her face was green. Now was the time to make his move. He stood up.
“I’m goin’ to talk to her. I want you to come with me.”
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
Arabella's head was, frankly swimming. Lorenzo dying? Brendan in love, it seemed, with Bridget? Well, he couldn't stop thinking about her, that spelled l.o.v.e. in her book. Phew!
At least he did his best to make her feel better.
"Arabella, your face looks like green cheese.”
Not that his best was that great.
"Thanks!" she said sarcastically. "And yours looks like... ah, let's face it, it looks all stupid and handsome like it always does!" she shrugged. Even she had to admit that.
He stood up.
“I’m goin’ to talk to her. I want you to come with me.”
She jumped up. She had mixed feelings about this, everything had gone topsy-turvy and was moving way too fast. The only thing more unsettling than the idea of going with the good-looking cowpoke to see her half-witted, crippled friend was the idea of him going on his own, and her not knowing what happened between the two of them.
"Wai-wai-wait! All right Mississippi, I'll come with, just hold on and let me get decent." she implored him. 'Getting decent' didn't take too long, as it involved pulling on her poke bonnet and shawl and grabbing her shopping basket. "Don't want folks thinkin' we're walkin' out together" she muttered. She swilled out her mouth with water, too, to remove the sick taste.
She found Brendan ready to go.
"Listen, she won't be at home this time of day" she told him "She'll be all gussied up and wanderin' round town lookin' through folks windows by now" Arabella calculated. The act of 'getting decent' had given her time to reflect.
Gosh, if Brendan knew 'all about' Bridget, he must also know about the surgical corset that kept her up straight during the day. And the terrible scarring on her body. He was so handsome, she reflected, he could have had the most beautiful girl in town - scratch that, he DID have the most beautiful girl in town, Caroline. She couldn't believe he was that way about Bridget, it... why, it was so noble. She was welling up inside, she could feel it. It was all so romantic, and she just felt so proud of Brendan: proud of him for him seeing the beauty, the real pure beauty, in her idiot friend.
"All righty. You ready?" she asked.
Stupid and handsome? Brendan crossed his arms and shook his head bemusedly. Yes, he was handsome. But was he stupid? Of course he wasn't.
He gave Arabella time to get herself "decent," whatever that meant. When she finally showed up again, he leaped up from the chair he'd been slouching in. "Ready? I've been ready." He scoffed and headed for the door, and was out on the boardwalk before what she'd said had fully sunk in.
He turned back to her. "She won't be at home?" he echoed, reinforcing the stupid look on his face. He'd wanted to talk to Bridget at home because...well...it would be easier to say what he needed to say without the possibility of people coming around.
He stuck his hands in his pockets and frowned at the boards beneath his feet. Maybe he should have talked to Caroline before he decided to see Bridget. Maybe he should have talked to Crabbe. But Bridget was the one whose future was at stake, and he wanted to talk to her.
Well, he could at least get Arabella's input on his idea. He looked up at her, squinted at her basket, and asked, "You think we could find someone who'd...adopt Bridget?"
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
He gave Arabella time to get herself "decent," whatever that meant. When she finally showed up again, he leaped up from the chair he'd been slouching in. "Ready? I've been ready." He scoffed and headed for the door, and was out on the boardwalk before what she'd said had fully sunk in.
"Hm! Well that's what's called 'a lady's prerogative', we can take as long as we need to make ourselves look our best!" she instructed him. Truth to tell, Arabella still looked like something the cat dragged in, even in her best bonnet and shawl. If this was her best, not looking her best must be very tatty indeed.
But off they went, this odd little couple: the tall handsome cowboy, and the undersized and plain spittoon scrubber.
He turned back to her. "She won't be at home?" he echoed, reinforcing the stupid look on his face. He'd wanted to talk to Bridget at home because...well...it would be easier to say what he needed to say without the possibility of people coming around.
"Uh-uh" Arabella shook her head. "Let's try the General Store first: she likes lookin' through the window at the candy. She's barred from actually goin' in since she walzed in there and ate a whole bunch of it onct without payin': right in front of the man behind the counter, too. Now if she wants to buy from there, me or Jemima has to go in and get it for her." she explained.
Well, he could at least get Arabella's input on his idea. He looked up at her, squinted at her basket, and asked, "You think we could find someone who'd...adopt Bridget?"
"Whoa there, Nelly!!" Arabella skidded to a halt and slowly, and somewhat balefully, turned her head and looked way up at him with a frown on her pale little face.
"Just a cotton-pickin' minute cowboy! Number one: no, no one's gonna adopt her! They can't find folks to adopt cute little babies and toddlers, never mind a growed-up, one-legged, gingerbread-haired, candy-guzzlin' knot-head like our Bridg'. Why d'ya think they're building an orphanage round here? And, er, Number two: I thought you wanted to marry her!"
That had seemed the obvious conclusion when he said 'I can't stop thinking about her'. He hadn't said 'I can't stop thinking about getting her adopted'!
She fixed him with her hardest basilisk stare.
"What exactly did Lorenzo say to you?" she asked, her voice replete with suspicion.
Brendan knew, as he listened to Arabella, that his suggestion had been a bad one. Deep down, he'd known before he said it. Finding someone to adopt Bridget would be like finding someone to adopt a three-legged horse. Impossible.
"I just thought..." He began, but once Arabella got going, there was no stopping her. He did try to jump in again at her Number Two (I thought you wanted to marry her), but got nowhere with that, either.
"I didn't..." He closed his mouth and jammed his hands into his pockets. It wasn't that he didn't want to marry her. He couldn't stop thinking about her, and felt somehow drawn to her, but those things were separate from the desire that he had figured would go along with wanting to marry someone.
He squirmed under Arabella's intense stare, and squirmed some more. He had the feeling that he really ought to have Caroline along right now. Caroline could tell Arabella when to shut up, and could tell him when not to say anything else stupid.
"He...uh...he said he was dyin'. That's what he said." Glancing up, he met Arabella's baleful stare and the words tumbled out of their own accord, all mushed together. "Andhewantsmetomarryher."
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
"He...uh...he said he was dyin'. That's what he said." Glancing up, he met Arabella's baleful stare and the words tumbled out of their own accord, all mushed together. "Andhewantsmetomarryher."
That made the skinny girl frown. "He wants you to marry her. Hmmm." she shook her head. Bridget could tell them nothing useful, and as for Crabbe...
"I don't know, Mississippi, Lorenzo's not as bad a feller as he likes to make out he is, but he is kinda slippery, Caroline'd tell ya the same. I mean, I got a kinda funny relationship with that feller... I, er... well anyway, at the end of the day I'm not sure I trust him far'n I kin throw him."
She thought for a long hard second.
"Got it! Come with me, big boy. I know who we can talk to." she announced, dragging him off the main High Street of Kalispell and down a back alley until they came to the back door of the Old Funeral Parlour where Crabbe and Bridget lived. To Arabella's suprise, the person she wanted to talk to was already there, dressed for the trail and just putting the finishing touches to loading a mule.
The little fat Chinese man looked up at Brendan, but he didn't have to look down too far at Arabella, they were pretty much the same height.
"Charlie Fa wonder how long it take Arabella Mudd and Big Handsome Cowboy to come to him. You nearly Miss Charlie. Charlie going to New York." he announced.
Arabella selfishly forgot everybody else in an instant and blurted. "Oh, please take me with you!!" Charlie chuckled and shook his head. "You go one day, Arabella Mudd. It not your time yet." No, of course it wasn't, and she felt a little ashamed at her outburst: they were here for Bridget and Brendan, how could she forget them so quickly and easily?
The Chinaman looked again at Brendan. "I know why you come. It true. Crabbe be dead soon." the next part was less expected "Miss Bridget be dead soon. Bad idea to make Big Handsome Mr Connelly marry. Ruin two lives."
Arabella gasped at this prediction, Bridget seemed well, considering her various conditions, but Mr Fa knew all sorts of mysterious medical type stuff: he could even calm Bridget's terrible phantom leg pains by shoving big long needles into her stump. One time he even cured her own really awful period pains: just by touching the side of her leg above the ankle.
She frowned and jerked a thumb between herself and Brendan "Will WE be dead soon, too?!" she asked.
So Brendan had been right to want Caroline with him when he'd talked to Lorenzo. Caroline had never mentioned anything about Lorenzo being slippery, but now that he thought about it, he could see what Arabella meant.
But he didn't have long to think about what that might mean for the stipend Crabbe had promised him, because Arabella was off down an alley with him in tow. He was surprised to see Charlie Fa, and was just the tiniest bit flattered by the moniker given to him. "Big Handsome Cowboy." That sure did sound good.
Brendan gaped at Fa's prediction about Bridget dying, too. His heart thumped as he stared down at the Chinese man, his whirling thoughts nearly blocking out Arabella's next question. As soon as he could string words together, he demanded, "What d'you mean Bridget'll be dead soon?"
Was it some sort of disease she'd caught from Crabbe? And if it was, was it catching for big handsome cowboys? He felt all right. Well, he felt kind of dizzy and disoriented at the moment, but that was because he'd just been told poor Bridget was going to die.
不要輕視蛇，有朝一日它可能會變成一條龍
Brendan gaped at Fa's prediction about Bridget dying, too. His heart thumped as he stared down at the Chinese man, his whirling thoughts nearly blocking out Arabella's next question. As soon as he could string words together, he demanded, "What d'you mean Bridget'll be dead soon?"
Mr Fa was puzzled by the B.H.C.'s puzzlement. "Charlie Fa mean that very soon... she die." he explained, as simply as he could. "He means what will she die of?" Arabella interjected.
The Chinese man frowned "Perhaps she die of a Tuesday, perhaps she die of a Wednesday, the book not give detailed answer!" he answered, starting to weary somewhat of these pointless questions but cheerfully staying to try and answer.
She frowned and jerked a thumb between herself and Brendan "Will WE be dead soon, too?!" she asked.
Charlie shook his head.
"Already say! Arabella Mudd live long life like tortoise; big success on stage; big hit in New York. Charlie Fa see her there one day. Many years from today. Year of White Dog." he predicted, like he was arranging to meet up for coffee and biscuits the next day.
"How bout him?" she asked next, grabbing Brendan protectively round the arm.
Charlie frowned at Brendan and then did some odd calculations on his hand, counting off his finger joins with the thumb of the same hand. He shook his head.
"No. He no big success on New York stage!" he said sadly "But he meet us in New York, same time, Year of White Dog - if he follow right destiny, no marry Bridget Monahan. He marry her, it upset Heaven, three grave in Boot Hill not two."
Brendan frowned at Arabella, then at Charlie. Neither of them was helping him understand the matter any more than he already did. Charlie's predictions for Arabella were favorable, so why couldn't Bridget's fate be better?
The worst part about it was that he didn't understand why Bridget was going to die, or how it was going to happen. He restrained himself from grabbing the little man by the collar and shaking him for as long as he could, but he finally could not hold back any longer after Charlie mentioned three graves.
He tore his arm away from Arabella and stood toe to toe with Charlie, looking down on the shorter man. "Listen here. I want to know what...what will make Bridget die? Is she sick?"
He hoped he was getting his point across. Just because Charlie spoke in broken English didn't mean he couldn't understand, but things were only getting more muddled right now.
不要輕視蛇，有朝一日它可能會變成一條龍
He tore his arm away from Arabella and stood toe to toe with Charlie, looking down on the shorter man. "Listen here. I want to know what...what will make Bridget die? Is she sick?"
"Yeah, she seems so full of life right now!" chimed in Arabella.
Charlie wasn't fazed by the big cowboy stepping in on him. He was no Alistair Fang, but he could defend himself against a slow moving westerner.
"Sure, she happy now: she come to Kalispell, she make nice friends: show off girl Arabella Mudd; monkey girl Jemima Wigfall; promiscuous girl Dolly Kaufmann; handsome cowboy man Brendan Connolly. Happiest time of life. But you seen outside of Bridget Monahan..." indeed, both of them had, at different times seen Bridget's horribly scarred and deformed torso "... inside even worse. And heart get strained. Where you think blood made?" he asked them both.
Arabella had never thought about this, she assumed everybody just had the blood they were born with. "Er, in yer nose?" she guessed: she was thinking about the nosebleeds you got, especially if you picked it too much.
"No, in leg. She only got one leg, not much blood, more work for heart to do. Heart get strained. She have more fits, more pain, she get lot worse. Crabbe not believe Fa either, he take Bridget to 'Merican doctor, he say same." a cloud of sadness passed, yea, even over Charlie's 'inscrutable' Chinese face.
"This time next year: Crabbe dead, Bridget Monahan dead. No use pretend they not." he glanced back at the Old Funeral Parlour. "This house of dead now, bad luck. Charlie Fa go now."