It's not a question of who's right. It's a question of what's right.
"Wentworth! Do something about these women before your place is wrecked!"
Contrary to what Doc Boone was thinking, Matt was already doing something about the melee that had broken out in his hotel. He had sent Simpson to get O'Malley the cook to help out and both men were now in the middle of the room trying to break up the crowd. O'Malley had already carted a couple of women out and was now picking up another one. Poor Walter was doing his best to stop two elderly matrons by shouting at them and reminding them that were ladies.
As for his part, he was just about to go back in and thinking of what he could do to stop the fighting as soon as possible. He looked over to where Sarah was standing, only to see her scribbling something down in the notebook she always carried with her. Shaking his head, he smiled as this incidence would no doubt make it into a lot of newspapers and ladies journals.
Seeing that the ladies weren't going to stop any time soon, Matt decided it was time to end this. Going over to the reception desk, he pulled out a pistol. Firing once or twice over the ladies heads might gain their attention more quickly than anything else they were trying. There would be probably a hole or two to mend but that would be a small amount compared to the damage that would be done if this kept going.
After manoeuvering his way to the stage, he fired once, which caught the attention of some of the ladies. A second shot ensured that he had all of their attention. "Ladies, I declare this meeting to be over. Now if you will kindly...and orderly make your way out, it will greatly be appreciated."
"Ladies should be seen and not heard"
The Hotel Bell Boy, not wanting to miss out, ran into the mêlée too. His actions were not entirely altruistic: he picked the prettiest girl he could see to try and carry out, and the most obvious one of those was the golden haired, white frocked Miss Anaesthesia Orr, standing at the front of the large room, brandishing a gavel. Being a couple of inches shorter than she, it was with some effort that he rushed her from behind and grasping his hands around to any parts he could get a grip on, lifted her from the ground with a grunt.
On feeling this midget strongman lift her so, she gave a rather breathless and excited “Oh!” and kicked her little white boots in the air, whist keeping a tight grip on her gavel.
Both of them looked a little disappointed when Mr Wentworth’s gunplay brough the whole fracas to an end, and he lowered her back to the carpet. Not sure what to say in such a circumstance, the bell boy went with his usual “Will that be all, Miss?” and she, on a reflex, managed to find a copper or two which she placed in his hand with pink cheeked and slightly panting “Something for your trouble, boy.”
She then moved to Miss Steelgrave’s side.
“Oh, the nerve of that beastly boy, putting his sticky hands all over me!” she puffed indignantly, yet somehow looking as pleased as punch about the whole affair. She gazed benignly, perhaps a little sadly, at Leah.
“I am sorry that this did not go as planned, I am afraid that my attempts to help only made things worse.” She said, fishing for compliments.
Then something caught her eye and she nodded to Leah: the mysterious woman on the front row was scribbling furiously in a notebook. Outraged, Anaesthesia stomped right up to Sarah for the second time today.
“Madame, I hope you will permit me to ask a question, for I have ever dealt with you with the utmost candor! … Are you ... spying upon us?!” she asked, in no uncertain terms.
The Hotel Bell Boy, not wanting to miss out, ran into the mêlée too. His actions were not entirely altruistic: he picked the prettiest girl he could see to try and carry out, and the most obvious one of those was the golden haired, white frocked Miss Anaesthesia Orr, standing at the front of the large room, brandishing a gavel. Being a couple of inches shorter than she, it was with some effort that he rushed her from behind and grasping his hands around to any parts he could get a grip on, lifted her from the ground with a grunt.
On feeling this midget strongman lift her so, she gave a rather breathless and excited “Oh!” and kicked her little white boots in the air, whist keeping a tight grip on her gavel.
Both of them looked a little disappointed when Mr Wentworth’s gunplay brough the whole fracas to an end, and he lowered her back to the carpet. Not sure what to say in such a circumstance, the bell boy went with his usual “Will that be all, Miss?” and she, on a reflex, managed to find a copper or two which she placed in his hand with pink cheeked and slightly panting “Something for your trouble, boy.”
She then moved to Miss Steelgrave’s side.
“Oh, the nerve of that beastly boy, putting his sticky hands all over me!” she puffed indignantly, yet somehow looking as pleased as punch about the whole affair. She gazed benignly, perhaps a little sadly, at Leah.
Leah couldn’t help but smile, which quickly dissolved when Anaesthesia looked to her. Boys will be boys, whether right or wrong, and she remembered the first time she was touched in just such a manner. So she understood.
“I am sorry that this did not go as planned, I am afraid that my attempts to help only made things worse.” She said, fishing for compliments.
“I doubt the punch was a good idea, but whatever damage is done, hopefully your kind words were heard, and will be remembered by those who had imbibed of the punch.” Leah offered. “ I truly appreciate your coming to my aide, very well spoken, Anaesthesia, very gratifying indeed. We should have ea sometime soon.” It was then she saw Jonah coming through the crowd, and she smiled.
Then something caught her eye and she nodded to Leah: the mysterious woman on the front row was scribbling furiously in a notebook. Outraged, Anaesthesia stomped right up to Sarah for the second time today.
“Madame, I hope you will permit me to ask a question, for I have ever dealt with you with the utmost candor! … Are you ... spying upon us?!” she asked, in no uncertain terms.
“Madame, I hope you will permit me to ask a question, for I have ever dealt with you with the utmost candor! … Are you ... spying upon us?!” she asked, in no uncertain terms.
Sarah looked up at the young lady and smiled, "No, I'm not spying just taking down notes. What happened here today will make interesting reading for those in the east or in San Francisco. I make my some of my living writing for ladies journals."
A thought then struck her head that might appease the young lady. "My readers will be eager to know the name of the lady who was bold enough to stand up and defend Miss Steelgrave. Do I have your permission to print your name, Miss?"
Jonah's main regret was that he and Doctor Boone had been confined to the lobby, as they weren't 'ladies', and therefore didn't qualify for the ladies part of the meeting...
Which meant that he missed out on the donnybrook that had broken out, more's the pity! Still, they could hear it, and then it started to spill out toward them, and he stood, ready to dodge any errant swings, finding it all entertaining and amusing...
...Until he saw the look on Leah's face, and his heart went out to her. This was her beloved project, and the 'ladies' didn't seem to be taking it seriously.
Glancing at Dr. Boone, he shrugged, then stood and waited for Leah to come through the waning melee.
The meeting had been a shambles! Her father could not have done a better job of ruining what she had tried to convey to the 'supposed' ladies of Kalispell. Yet even as she thought of the what had happened, and was still happening around her.
The bright spot had been the support of Anaesthesia Orr. She began to gather her things realizing that all was certainly not lost. They could proceed without any support from the community, perhaps it would be a bit more difficult, but with the grants she retained, that were in her name, it would be possible to proceed.
Still she was saddened by what had gone so horribly wrong. Causing Matthew to fire his pistol inside the room, what had been deafening, and certainly caused some damage that would need to be repaired. This had definitely been a day!
It was as she started for the door that she saw both Jonah and Josiah waiting in the lobby, and that was reason enough to smile. A hand touched her arm.
"Miss Steel, Phinias G. McVay, editor of the Union. The paper supports your efforts, Ma'am. Terribly sorry for, for whatever this was supposed to be."
"Thank you sir, you're support is highly valued." Leah replied with a smile , "please excuse me." She wanted away from the room and to confer with her partners.
"Certainly." Phinias replied as he got to his feet. There was type to set and a Special Edition to get out!
"Gentlemen." She greet the Doctors. Shall we step into the dining room?"
Jonah stepped forward to meet Leah, unfortunately too late to block the newsman...for him, there was no love lost with journalists, not that he'd had many encounters, but it seemed that all they were after was a sensational story, regardless of how they had to present the facts to get that.
"Gentlemen." She greet the Doctors. "Shall we step into the dining room?"
Nodding, Jonah offered his arm to escort her. "I take it things didn't go as planned," he commented, smiling, "but did you at least get your message to them?" Leah only needed to reach a few of the more influential ladies, who could help sway things.
"Ladies should be seen and not heard"
Sarah looked up at the young lady and smiled, "No, I'm not spying just taking down notes. What happened here today will make interesting reading for those in the east or in San Francisco. I make my some of my living writing for ladies journals."
Anaesthesia’s peaches and cream complexion colored a little. She had misjudged the woman, although the step from spy to journalist might not be as great as one might think. However, ladies journals were a different stamp of publication to, say, a scandal sheet like The Kalispell Union. It was an era when women’s journals were starting to offer useful, practical advice to their readers. However, the particular title that Anaesthesia subscribed to, The Young Lady, was still a staunch bastion of maudlin and pious sentimentality.
She wondered for an instant if this woman could possibly be her favourite columnist, Clarissa Clearwater. She sort of hoped not: she had always imagined Miss Clearwater to be a young lady of her own age, her mirror image in beauty and refinement and Christian spirit: but perhaps with black midnight tresses, in contract to Anaesthesia's own locks of spun gold.
A thought then struck her head that might appease the young lady. "My readers will be eager to know the name of the lady who was bold enough to stand up and defend Miss Steelgrave. Do I have your permission to print your name, Miss?"
This flattering offer sent a frisson of excitement down Anaesthesia’s girlish spine, but the words of Miss Clearwater echoed in her head ‘For a young lady of delicate sensibilities, any sort of fame is ill-fame’. She looked to the somewhat dusty and cobwebbed ceiling, now further marred by Mr Wentworth’s bullet holes, for divine inspiration. As so often, God said exactly what she wanted to hear.
“Madame, it is hardly meet for a Young Lady to allow her name to appear in print in any popular publication. However, when I think of the wonderful, I dare say Holy mission upon which Miss Steelgrave has embarked, how can I not sacrifice even my good name to help its cause? I can only pray that you use me gently.” she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, as if steeling herself to leap from some great precipice.
“My name is Anaesthesia Ether Orr, daughter of Mr Richard Armstrong Orr and Mrs Dorothea Bosco Orr, née Dransfield.” She let it all out with a look of beatific martyrdom on her lovely face. She then opened her sparkling blue eyes and peeped over to Sarah’s notebook to make sure she had spelled it right.
“Oh no, with an A E, and if your typographer can possibly manage it, an Ash A” In case the woman didn’t know what the heck she was talking about, she gently and smilingly snatched the pencil from Sarah’s hand and lovingly wrote her own signature in the notebook.
Anæsthesia Ether Orr, Miss.
“And under what by-line and in which journal may I expect to read my name?” asked goldilocks.
"Gentlemen." She greeted the Doctors. "Shall we step into the dining room?"
Nodding, Jonah offered his arm to escort her. "I take it things didn't go as planned," he commented, smiling, "but did you at least get your message to them?" Leah only needed to reach a few of the more influential ladies, who could help sway things.
"That meeting was sabotaged!" Boone exclaimed, "and just what the Sam Hell were those getup's about? I've never seen the like. Shameful. plain and simple shameful."
"What's done is done." Leah ceded. "Yes it was a sabotage, yet I can't for the life of me figure out who might have done it. Obviously we need to begin a defense for the plan with the Town Council, whenever they decide to meet. I doubt we'll have an easy time of it with them."
"It was probably that Miggins woman, mean-spirited, spiteful, old battleaxe!" Boone added. "But you're right. I never thought I'd see such a display of downright delay on such a simple, cut and dried matter as this. What do you think Jonah?"
Sighing, Jonah shrugged. "Does the elegant Miz Miggins have a motive beyond despising your name?' For some...many...that was enough to want to stop Leah, but it was something that could be overcome with facts and education. As for the costumes...
"Not really sure why everyone was dressed up," Jonah couldn't help but chuckle, "someone's idea of a joke, perhaps." Again, he shrugged as he observed, "Or perhaps a way to discredit the event, make it a laughing stock?" If no one took things seriously, Leah would never have her voice heard. But he knew this wouldn't stop her.
At the table, he held the chair for her.