"We know that there's four of you who don't want go to the dance but there are still twelve that do. Since we need another four to stay behind the only way to do this fairly is by lottery."
Mike looked over at the hands gathered in the bunkhouse. The annual Spring Dance was a popular affair and most of the men were eager to go. He could see that they were all in agreement about whether or not they go would be a game of chance. He picked up the upturned hat that was on the table. "Inside this hat are twelve pieces of paper. Four of them have a cross on it. If you get one of those you're staying behind."
Ben raised his hand, "You part of this too?"
"Yes, me included," Mike answered in a slightly sarcastic tone, "Afterwards if you want to negotiate with one another than that's up to you."
As the men made their pick from the hat, the reactions to what they got ranged from joy to displeasure. Charlie, who even though still doing chores around the main house had already started his training, smiled as he looked at his piece of paper. He glanced over at Sam, who had obviously drawn one of the pieces with a cross on it. Seeing that Charlie was going, Sam got up but before he even reached his brother, Charlie put a hand up, "I'll save you the trouble. There's no way I'm giving this one away."
Sam frowned before going over to Mike. "Well?"
Mike smiled, "Sorry, it's a no from me as well."
After a few minutes, Mike raised his voice, "All right, men. Now that we've got that sorted out, it's time for those of you on duty tonight to get out there. Don't want ole Sage thinking that we've gone and forgotten all about him. Remember, to keep an eye out for any suspicious activity."
The men who had been assigned night duty, left the bunkhouse with a few of them trying to wrangle a deal that would let them go to the dance. Those left behind spent the remainder of the evening catching up on their mending or socialising with the others.
"Who broke their leg?" Emeline asked as she came in from the root cellar, where she'd been collecting some onions and dried herbs. She smiled at Clare, then glanced at the young woman. "Looks like Frankie has taken a shine to you, young lady. Now, I know he can't dance a polka, but he is pretty talented."
As she set the things on the table, she looked the girl over, than asked Clara, "Who is your friend? Is she helping, or just keeping Frankie out of the way?"
Clara dismissed the other girl's arguments with a simple, "I enjoy working here. And I am being paid for it."
Then the child mentioned somebody named Bridget whom Clara did not recognize.
Her employer now made her appearance, Clara smiled right back. It was amazing really and doubtful Clara even realized it but she actually was doing more smiling as they grew accustomed to each other. The young lady loved her time spent with Emeline.
"Some girl who was dancing with Arabella. How one could break their leg doing such a simple thing is beyond me..." Clara left it at that but shrugged.
Emeline did not know Arabella so it seemed appropriate for a quick introduction.
"Oh this is Arabella Mudd, she stayed with this for a short time after the Whitefish tragedy. And this is Mrs. Emeline Blakesley." Frankie was already known to both parties now.
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
Who broke their leg?" Emeline asked as she came in from the root cellar, where she'd been collecting some onions and dried herbs. She smiled at Clare, then glanced at the young woman.
“Some girl who was dancing with Arabella. How one could break their leg doing such a simple thing is beyond me..." Clara left it at that but shrugged.
“Oh, Mam!” said Arabella, curtseying, somewhat wary of Ms Blakesly, never having met her before, although she’d seen her through the windows of the diner from afar. “It was my friend Bridget Monahan, but … ooof!” Frankie had turned around in Arabella’s arm and sniffed at her ear, which sent a tickly shiver down her spine.
"Looks like Frankie has taken a shine to you, young lady. Now, I know he can't dance a polka, but he is pretty talented."
“Oh, he can dance the polka all right!” Arabella assured the lady and launched into a dance around the kitchen with the unimpressed fluffy grey and white cat putting up with it for a few seconds before digging his thick back claws into Arabella’s bony chest and launching himself over her shoulder, running down her back and scarpering out of the back door.
“Can you do the Polka? Yes I can do the .. YOWIIEE!!” cried the girl as the cat made his deft escape. “Oh tarnation, there goes my day-colly-targy!!” she yelped, referring to her now scratched chest. She had rather fancied, in her imagination, turning up at the ball in an alluring low-cut ball gown displaying a pure white décolletage, although she hardly had the figure for it.
“Oh well, at least I can show you what happened to Bridget now!” she announced, lifting her skirts and displaying a pair of skinny legs in white pantalets that came just bellow the knee. “See, she was all right when she was doin’ like this!” she said hopping about on one leg and swinging the other back and forth in a kicking motion.
“But when she tried this…” Arabella carried on hopping, but waggled the foot from left to right this time “… there was this funny noise and her foot and shin dropped off! And she fell on the ground! Like this … urrgghh.” She fell to the ground, mimicking Bridget’s collapse.
As she set the things on the table, she looked the girl over, than asked Clara, "Who is your friend? Is she helping, or just keeping Frankie out of the way?"
"Oh this is Arabella Mudd, she stayed with this for a short time after the Whitefish tragedy. And this is Mrs. Emeline Blakesley." Frankie was already known to both parties now.
Arabella clambered to her feet.
“Howdy Ms Blakesley!” the girl beamed “I’m surprised you ain’t heard of me, I’m Clara’s bestest and most bosom friend. I was just tellin’ her about this here dance at the big barn, and the noodle headed ninny don’t want to go! Did you ever hear of such foolishness? I bet you’re goin’ Ms Blakesley, ain’t ya?!”
It was all Emeline could do not to burst into laughter at the girl's antics, but she managed to keep a straight face as she nodded. "Oh, well, I can see how one could break their leg doing that! Fortunately, I do know how to polka...I can muddle through a few dances."
That was something she hadn't really discussed with Barnabas, although she knew he could at least waltz, but things like a polka or mazurka, she wasn't sure. Of course, it had been a few years since she'd done much by way of dancing, but she figured she could pass.
"Oh, indeed, Clara has told me quite a bit about her new friend, I just hadn't realized that would be you!" Emeline grinned, glancing at Clara...she would keep any conversations they had had confidential. "And yes, of course I'm going to the dance, but I'm to be married soon, so I am going with my betrothed. And besides, we're providing some of the food."
So, she figured Clara was going, at least to help with that, but she wasn't going to make any commitments for the young lady.
Arabella proceeded to explain how the other girl broke her leg, all retold in that over dramatic obviously overstated manner of the girl. Clara wanted to believe it but the cynical part of her had doubts. No matter.
She also declared to Emeline that she, Clara, was her 'bestest most bosom' friend. Gosh, her grammar was awful. Clara glanced toward the woman and the look in her eyes silently signaled - no, that wasn't really true. It suddenly struck Clara then that she didn't actually have any friends in this world any more than she had any boys interested in her. It was sobering.
When Arabella criticized her decision to forego the upcoming dance, Emeline responded.
"And yes, of course I'm going to the dance, but I'm to be married soon, so I am going with my betrothed. And besides, we're providing some of the food."
Clara was happy for Emeline, she really was but, in truth, she just could not warm to the man whom Emeline was marrying. There was something about him that seemed......untrustworthy or even risky. But far be it from her to tell someone how to live their life. Emeline also brought up the fact that the diner was responsible for some of the food to be served at this dance. Oh right, she hadn't considered that.
"Well.....of course if you need me there to help, I would not refuse," she instantly assured the woman but thought on it a few seconds before adding, "Say, would I be getting paid for that evening then?"
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
And yes, of course I'm going to the dance, but I'm to be married soon, so I am going with my betrothed. And besides, we're providing some of the food."
Frankie had decided to sneak back into to the kitchen and try his luck again, but the ear-splitting scream that Arabella emitted on hearing of Mrs Blakesley’s upcoming nuptials sent him scampering, his ears buzzing, and he gave the whole thing up as bad job. He headed off to the wagon stables to have a stand-off with Buster instead.
Even though she had only just met her, Arabella had thrown a pair of delirious arms around Ms Em with an excited cry of “Oh that’s WONDERFUL news!!!” Then she stood back, taking it in that MRS Blakesley was getting married. She held both her hands to her heart and assumed a far-away, misty-eyed, distant stare, off into the regions of fancy.
“'She thought she would never find love twice, but then he came along!' Oh Ms Blakesley, it’s just like a romantic novella!”
Then she snapped back into focus “Oh! And there’ll be so much to do! Flowers and arranging the wedding breakfast and the dress! Oh, THE DRESS!! Now some folks’ll say it’s a pity you can’t wear white, but I think it’s better ‘cause then you can pick any color you want, Prussian Blue’s a-la-modey this year, they reckon, I heard Ms Deveraeu say so, and the music: I can help with that, you know that girl as always plays the harmonium in church on Sunday; well, that girl’s me! I’d better start practicin’ the wedding march.”
She took a deep breath. “This is so darlin’! You’re getting married, Missus B.” she’d already decided that Blakesley was too big a mouthful for a girl like herself, who had a lot to say, and was in an awful hurry to say it.
“… and old party-piker Clara there’s GOTTA go to the dance to serve up the pies. That all’s made my day, I don’t mind tellin’ you!”
“Well.....of course if you need me there to help, I would not refuse," she instantly assured the woman but thought on it a few seconds before adding, "Say, would I be getting paid for that evening then?"
“Oh, Clara, Clara, Clara: don’t you know it says in the Bible that ‘love of money is the root of all evil?’" quoted Arabella, wagging an admonishing finger. "You should just be glad that you’re helpin’ Mrs B. get together enough pennies for her trousseau: you know, her pretty little ‘hope chest’." she giggled, thinking of all the fancy frillies that would contain.
"Say, though, you won’t be Mrs B. any more I guess: what’s this fellers moniker? I mean, pardon my asking Mrs B., but who IS this dashin’ and handsome groom what’s swept you off of your feet?!”
"Oh, well, um..." In recent memory, Emeline could not recall being quite so dizzy and disoriented, and she didn't even know where to start. She gave Clara a desperate glance, but saw there was no aid coming from there!
"Yes, if course I will pay Clara to help at the dance, it's what happens with employees," she commented evenly, "and..." What else was there? "As for my dress, I've been working on it all Winter, and it is nearly done, and the arrangements are nearly arranged for the ceremony..."
But could she disappoint the girl and squash her enthusiasm, so Emeline just nodded and muttered, "We'll see what can be arranged, any help is certainly appreciated."
There was something else...Oh, right!
"The gentleman's name is Barnabas Pike, he is from Nevada, and he is a deputy. We have some property up by the falls where we're building a house and starting a horse ranch."
Why was she offering so much information? Oh, well, no harm done, right?
Clara could tell that Arabella was way too high strung for Em to be comfortable with, well she always had that same reaction so she well understood it. Arabella meant well, Clara did not dislike the child but something about her was so.... wearing, tiring. Meanwhile Clara felt her and Emeline were much more peas in a pod. The woman struggled thru with her answers though, most of them for Arabella of course.
Clara smiled, a little, when Emeline assured her she would be paid for her presence at the dance, she figured as much for the woman was always more than fair with her.
"Thank you, I will go then," Clara nodded. If she had to be a wallflower at this silly affair, at least she would make some money at it.
Now Clara knew the man's name, she had seen a number of times now when he dropped by the diner while she was working. There was obvious attachment between the pair. However one nugget of information surprised her.
"He is a deputy? I did not know that," Clara blinked.
She also had another question, "If you are starting up a horse ranch, what about the diner?"
It suddenly hit her she might just be out of a job if Emeline chose to live on the ranch and close this town business.
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
"Thank you, I will go then," Clara nodded. If she had to be a wallflower at this silly affair, at least she would make some money at it.
“Yipppiee!” cheered Arabella, throwing her arms in the air triumphantly and jumping up and down on the spot. “First the dance, then Mr an’ Mrs Pike’s wedding! Sorry, Deputy Pike! And then, who knows? In a year or two, a whole bunch o’ minnows!”
"He is a deputy? I did not know that," Clara blinked.
“Sure, I know the feller you mean now, Mrs B.” piped up the Southern girl, thinking of the only man she’d ever seen wearing a lawman’s badge in Kalispell, Marshal Guyer. “Old boy, long scraggly grey hair? Oh well, never mind: it’s amazing what a good wash an’ a shave an’ a new suit’ll do to a feller’s appearance. Besides, everyone’s gonna be looking at you, not him, on the big day.”
She also had another question, "If you are starting up a horse ranch, what about the diner?"
It suddenly hit her she might just be out of a job if Emeline chose to live on the ranch and close this town business.
“Oooh! I know!” shouted Arabella, jumping up and down again “Me and Clara can run it for ya! She can make the pies, and I can be out front, showin’ people to their seats and asking them what all they wanna be a-scoffing!”