Mature Content: No, maybe language
With: Clara, Arabella, Caroline, anyone in saloon
Time of Day: Early evening
Now that she had finished with Emeline, Clara now had one more invitation to attend to. Unlike Emeline, this particular individual filled Clara with worry. Unlike what Jacob thought, she did too like Arabella. It's just that they were such different types of personalities. And the younger girl was such a loose cannon to use the old sea-going phrase even if she did mean well. Clara really didn't have many (OK any) friends her own age, not that it ever bothered her all that much - her life was a full one, so Arabella alone qualified. Oh there was Bridget too, who was sweet in so many ways but not quite all there.
It did not help that once more Clara had to visit the saloon. This was a part of life she had no experience with and no desire to experience. Saloons were awful places. Her father had said dangerous places even for young ladies. But Clara figured since Arabella worked there that would be the place most likely to find her. Her mind so full of wedding plans, worries, and what have you, Clara wasn't even thinking straight though as this time she went right thru the swinging doors of the front entry as opposed to going around the back entrance.Only once she was in did she realize that might not have been the right thing to do.
There were maybe a good dozen customers, most of them leaning against the long bar, and her entry drew quite a few looks, mostly of puzzlement. Being the object of such a focus did not help her confidence any as she tried to ignore everything but searching for Arabella. She knew the girl played the piano here but no one was sitting by it at the moment.
"Hey there, sweetheart. You lost?" a deep voice spoke up and as her eyes swiveled to see who was speaking it was some dusty cowpoke she'd never seen in her life.
"No, I am not," she replied then resumed her searching. There was only one female even in the whole place, some blonde lady in a bright red and low cut dress. Must be one of the whores?
"You ain't huh? That's good cuz you come to the right place, missy. I'll buy ya a drink then," the cowpoke offered, as another next to to him chuckled.
"I do not drink but thank you for your offer," she informed him as calmly as she could.
"Well, then, are you here for drummin' up some business, I'll bite. How much you cost?" the cowboy obviously had his own idea what sort of young miss this was.
"I beg your pardon?" Clara looked wide eyed, she suddenly had an inkling of what he was referring to.
"Playin' hard to get are ya?" the cowpoke took a step closer to the girl.
"Alright, alright, finish yer drink, Lester, she ain't interested," suddenly that blonde woman stepped on in between them.
"She's old enough ta speak fer herself..." the cowboy started.
Caroline didn't let him finish but snapped, "I said....FUCK OFF! "
Lester hadn't expected the words or the fire from the normally congenial saloon gal and did a quick retreat. He did not want to attract the attention of the bartender, Ralph Flandry already had a reputation of being very protective of the singer/dancer.
Clara went wide eyed at the foul language but was grateful it worked and the man was no longer a threat. She swallowed then said softly, "Thank you."
"Sure thing, hon! I never saw you in here before and you don't seem the type to spend time in these kinda places so why ya here?" Caroline smiled, trying to put her at ease.
"Umm...I am looking for Arabella Mudd," Clara managed to get out.
"Oh sure! Well, ya came to the right place. She'll be out here in a minute. I'm about to do on that there stage and sing. Arabella plays piano for me," Caroline explained.
"Oh, I see. Do you think I would have time to talk to her for just a few minutes? It is quite important but will not take long," Clara requested.
"I don't see why not, hon. Why don't you go and take a seat at the piano? No one will bother you, they saw what just happened here," Caroline waved her hand in that direction.
"Very well, thank you, miss," Clara nodded.
"None of that 'miss' or 'ma'am' stuff. I'm Caroline," the saloon gal then marched her over to the piano.
"She'll be out here any minute now. She loves playin' the piano, she's really quite good at it," Caroline declared.
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
The trick to getting everything done on a busy night in the bar was to do stuff on the move; thus, as Arabella entered the main part of the saloon from the back where she had finished pressing the laundry with a hot smoothing iron, en route to the piano, she picked up two freshly pulled beers from the bar with an almost inaudible “Where?” to Ralph who gave an equally imperceptible nod in the right direction.
That arch pain in the ass Lester moved in on her as she weaved in between people and around tables with his usual “give me a kiss, skinny!” routine, to which she gave her usual reply of “Sure! I’ll give you a big one right on the lips” and chased after him, still carrying the beers and not spilling a drop. That bluff called, she deposited the drinks and looked up to see Caroline pointing toward the piano.
When she saw who was sitting there, as prim as a daisy in a field, Arabella gave an ear-splitting scream of excitement and ran over to Clara. Two visits in one day! But it did seem odd seeing her out here with this crowd of no-good skunks, as she lovingly and smilingly called them to their faces.
“Clara! What you doin’ here?!” she gawped, slack jawed. “Don’t tell me: your Pa shot Hayseed and threw you out and now you gotta come live with me! Well that’s all right, I got plenty of room in my bed, and we can live here together and go on adventures together and you can join our act! Say, can you play the banjo at all? Cause we was thinkin’ we should get a banjo player!” she asked excitedly, not really stopping to bemoan the fate of poor old Jacob, shot down dead in his prime.
Clara sat on the piano bench and tried to look relaxed though she did sputter out a bit of a cough what with all the smoke wafting about the place. Her father was not a smoker and the diner did usually have smokers as people went there to eat. Just then there was a high pitched scream which startled her - though surprisingly most of the rest in the saloon simply seemed to ignore it. Then Arabella came charging up to her.
“Clara! What you doin’ here?!” she gawped, slack jawed.
"Well, I am..." that's as far as Clara got.
“Don’t tell me: your Pa shot Hayseed and threw you out and now you gotta come live with me! "
"Gosh, no!" Clara frowned.
"Well that’s all right, I got plenty of room in my bed, and we can live here together and go on adventures together and you can join our act! Say, can you play the banjo at all? Cause we was thinkin’ we should get a banjo player!”
"I do not even own a banjo," Clara settled that matter firmly and immediately.
"Will you calm down please and let me get a word in edgewise?" Clara requested but kept right on going so she might actually arrive at her point for being here.
"After a bit of a discussion, my father has given his permission. Jacob and I are going to be married....tomorrow. And I came here to ask if you would be my brides maid for the ceremony?"
Caroline had of course been listening and smiled then, "Hey Ara, that should be fun!"
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
"I do not even own a banjo," Clara settled that matter firmly and immediately.
“Oh, well that don't mind, I know this feller’ll sell us one cheap, see, cause his fingers got all cut off in…” but the older girl cut her off instead.
"Will you calm down please and let me get a word in edgewise?" Clara requested but kept right on going so she might actually arrive at her point for being here.
"After a bit of a discussion, my father has given his permission. Jacob and I are going to be married....tomorrow. And I came here to ask if you would be my brides mate for the ceremony?"
Caroline had of course been listening and smiled then, "Hey Ara, that should be fun!"
“I’ll say!!” yelped Arabella, clutching her little fists together in joy and jumping up in the air. Then she put her leather lungs to good use and shouted out so loud that the rest of the saloon stopped in mid-sentence (or mid-slurp, or mid-belch) “Listen you fellers! My friend Clara here’s getting’ married tomarra!” Whoops and cheers greeted this, though few of them knew this wholly respectable farm girl from Adam “And guest [sic] what? – I’m a gonna be CHIEF BRIDE’S MAID!!!”
She yelled this so loud and with such a jump in the air and such a frantic waving of arms that the small crowd of cowpokes, gamblers and layabouts, who were always an excitable bunch anyway and who, even at this early hour, were already half-tight, erupted into a frenzy of cheers, yeeee-haaaas, and whaaaa-hooos, some dancing around with each other and others shooting off their six shooters at the ceiling. Arabella laughed her head off at this rumpus (which actually bordered on being a ruckus) and some voice cried “Let’s have a whip round fer the bride!!” “Yeah!!”
Suddenly money was being collected in a battered old hat and presented to Clara by a dewy eyed-rounder and noted fist merchant who normally looked like he ate babies for fun. Somewhere at the back of the bunch, an old prospector could be heard weeping into his beer: “It shouldha been me!”
The men all then wanted to kiss the bride, of course, but Arabella repelled them by offering herself up instead, puckering up her lips and going crosseyed so they all fell back cussing in disorder, which made the pot girl hiccup with laughter again. It sure was fun working in the saloon! Arabella always slightly pitied Clara, working in that dull diner where everybody was always on their best behaviour and never had rumpuses or ruckuses.
“Ooh, there must be nearly twenty dollars here!” she cooed, shaking out the hat. “So what time shall I come and get you ready in the morning?” she asked, still wildly excited about the whole thing, but professionally holding up five fingers to Caroline to say she’d be on that pianna in a few minutes, hold tight.
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
As she should have known, Clara simply watched wide-eyed at the girl's reaction, make that over reaction.
“I’ll say!!” yelped Arabella, clutching her little fists together in joy and jumping up in the air. Then she put her leather lungs to good use and shouted out so loud that the rest of the saloon stopped in mid-sentence (or mid-slurp, or mid-belch) “Listen you fellers! My friend Clara here’s getting’ married tomarra!”
"You don't have to tell the world," hissed Clara but the floodgates had already opened.
Whoops and cheers greeted this, Arabella then bellowed, “And guest [sic] what? – I’m a gonna be CHIEF BRIDE’S MAID!!!”
"Calm down, please," why she was even bothering Clara realized even as she pleaded.
It all went downhill from there as the customers joined in the near hysteria, good Lord, guns were even going off. Clara was appalled, she could end up being shot here in this den of iniquity and never get hitched!
Both Ralph and Caroline had to wade into the celebration, both of them hurrying to see to it guns were once more holstered. Geezus, Matilda was upstairs and these yahoos were shooting into the ceiling. Caroline used convincing but Ralph used a combination of intimidation (he did have a short club of sorts which used to be a stool leg in one hand) and force. One man resisted and Ralph marched him to the swinging doors and bodily tossed him onto the boardwalk.
Needless to say Clara had not wanted this at all, this was what comes with dealing with Arabella. She had real fears about what the girl might do at the wedding...or rather ....TO the wedding! There was one good thing that came out of this near riot though.
"Ooh, there must be nearly twenty dollars here!” Arabella cooed, shaking out the hat. “So what time shall I come and get you ready in the morning?” she asked, still wildly excited about the whole thing, but professionally holding up five fingers to Caroline to say she’d be on that pianna in a few minutes, hold tight.
Clara wanted to scoop up the money and run but that would be rude. Instead she answered the girl's question.
"No, I talked with Emeline and she is getting me ready for the wedding. She was married once herself and she is older and wiser in this sort of thing than I am. One person helping me is plenty. You just show up at the church before one o'clock," Clara directed.
“So what time shall I come and get you ready in the morning?” asked Arabella as she handed the assorted coins over to Clara.
"No, I talked with Emeline and she is getting me ready for the wedding. She was married once herself and she is older and wiser in this sort of thing than I am. One person helping me is plenty. You just show up at the church before one o'clock," Clara directed.
Once upon a time Arabella, full of awe, had considered Clara to be the wisest person in the world, never mind Mrs Blakesley: well, maybe this slip with Hayseed had shown that her idol had feet of clay but, ironically, she loved her all the more for it. It brought her down a little peg or two to nearer to her ramshackle level of existence. Arabella made blunder after blunder, but now even the sainted Clara had made one, too; she was human, and somehow that made her more attainable as the bosom friend the displaced orphan had always wanted her to be.
“Oooh, well, you know best!” beamed the Clinch Mountain girl, not at all put out that she didn’t get to help put Clara together; give Mrs B. her due, she’d sure done an amazing job on Clara for the Dance: she’d been a picture, a heart stopping vision who turned the heads of all the men present, including Lutz’s. If Kalispell’s Queen of Shortcrust could pull off something similar tomorrow, it would be her crowning achievement.
“Say, what color dress’ll you be a wearin’?” she asked “I’d better make sure we don’t clash!” Considering that the girl only had two dresses to choose from, the answer was somewhat irrelevant.
This matter decided, it seemed Clara was eager to leave this rather spit and sawdust environment and Arabella was aware that she was meant to be tickling the ivories about now. It seemed fitting to give her a kiss and a hug goodbye on this occasion, something that she had ceased to attempt, knowing the Redmond girl’s aversion to such overfamiliarity. But she took a risk now, with a bright “See ya tomorra!” to disguise how much such a connection meant to her.
As Clara exited, Arabella sat and played her out with a brief stanza of “Here comes the bride” on the piano, which once again drew the attention of the crowd to her and another chorus of cheers, although six shooters stayed holstered this time. Mudd then caught the eye of Mundee and, given the nod, launched into the introductory bars of their very own rewritten re-gendered version of “The Girl I left behind me” which ended with a rousing chorus of:
“Oh that boy, that funny little boy
The boy I left behind me,
The curly hair and the vacant stare
Of the boy I left behind me!”
Want... dolls!
Bridget wasn’t allowed to go into the saloon, but she liked to hear her friend Arabella play the piano and listen to the other lady singing, so she sometimes used to hang around outside, standing in the street, listening to the music, looking up and watching the clouds roll overhead. Her favourite was when they did they “The Mulligan Guard” with its regimental sounding calling of orders and rollicking pace. When they played that song she liked to march up and down the boardwalk outside using her parasol as a musket on her shoulder.
She didn’t recognise the first tune they played tonight and frowned hard at the swing doors of the saloon. She didn’t like new things. She shouted at the swing doors.
“Mullygan Gard!!”
This magically made them open and her friend Clara, who had saved her from the bully boys appeared through them, looking a bit ruffled, not her usually calmly comported self, it had to be said.
“Clara!!!” Bridget beamed. She shrugged her shoulders as she smiled, as if to say why do you appear out of the saloon swing doors nowadays?
Clara was grateful for the sudden intake of funds the impromptu collection had netted her - correction: Jacob and her - but also very much in a hurry to get out of there. It was obvious Arabella was quite at ease at her workplace which she supposed was a good thing but it was not a place for her. The blonde whore was nice enough though, that was a bit of a surprise.
Clara was just about to put her arm forward for the swinging doors of the entrance when a vaguely familiar shout came from outside?
“Mullygan Gard!!”
This magically made them open and her friend Clara, who had saved her from the bully boys appeared through them, looking a bit ruffled, not her usually calmly comported self, it had to be said.
“Clara!!!” Bridget beamed.
Clara stepped out. Yes, Bridget, she had not considered her (shamefully but not because of spite just so much going on in her mind) as a possible guest for the wedding. Poor thing, Clara didn't just pity her lack of mental capacity though but genuinely liked the other girl. Yes, she would ask her if she wanted to come.
"Hello, Bridget, you sure are looking nice today, as always might I add," Clara greeted her.
"Let us step away from all that noise, I have something to tell you and to ask you also," Clara shepherded the girl off to the side for a bit.
"First off, I am getting married for your information," she announced proudly.
"Secondly, the wedding is tomorrow. And I was wondering if you would like to come to it? There would be a big dinner afterward," she now got right to the point. Clara knew the girl loved food though looking at her almost rail physique one wondered where she put it all?
Want... dolls!
Hello, Bridget, you sure are looking nice today, as always might I add," Clara greeted her.
“Got new hat!” Bridget beamed back, pointing at said chapeau, which seemed to have a good deal of (hopefully) wax fruit attached to it.
"Let us step away from all that noise, I have something to tell you and to ask you also," Clara shepherded the girl off to the side for a bit.
Bridget looked back a little longingly at the saloon doors, they were playing The Boy I left Behind Me. She liked that one, especially as all the men in the saloon joined in with the chorus. She tried to do it, too, standing outside but, sadly, could never quite keep up.
"First off, I am getting married for your information," she announced proudly.
The ginger girl gasped and instinctively threw her arms around the slightly shorter girl. She eventually released her and smiled.
“Clara! Pretty bride!” she laughed happily.
"Secondly, the wedding is tomorrow. And I was wondering if you would like to come to it? There would be a big dinner afterward," she now got right to the point. Clara knew the girl loved food though looking at her almost rail physique one wondered where she put it all?
“Where is wedding?” she wondered, sort of looking around, like it was going to be in the street they happened to be standing in.
“Who you…” this was a tricky one “Who you marry?” she eventually released the question.
“Marry Bren-dan Con’ly?” she asked, her face falling a little. She wanted to marry him.
“Got new hat!” Bridget beamed back, pointing at said chapeau, which seemed to have a good deal of (hopefully) wax fruit attached to it.
"It's very..." Clara paused for the right word............garish? Nope, better not use that one.
"Unique," she settled for.
Clara then announced her upcoming marriage which got an enthusiastic reaction.
The ginger girl gasped and instinctively threw her arms around the slightly shorter girl. She eventually released her and smiled.
“Clara! Pretty bride!” she laughed happily.
"Oh, thank you," Clara replied, she was really getting used to all these hugs lately in her life. Then she issued her invite to the wedding coming up fast.
“Where is wedding?” Bridget wondered, sort of looking around, like it was going to be in the street they happened to be standing in.
"In the church, well the ceremony that is of course. But the wedding dinner will be at my father's farm. We will make certain you have a ride to get there and back," Clara answered.
“Who you…” this was a tricky one “Who you marry?” she eventually released the question.
"Oh right, I almost forgot to mention that detail," Clara realized, though she doubted Bridget even knew Jacob.
“Marry Bren-dan Con’ly?” Bridget asked, her face falling a little.
"Oh no, hardly ....not him," Clara shook her head, she would leave out the grim details that Brendan's fellow cowpokes tried to shoot her while she conversed with the admittedly handsome but also obviously lacking in morals Brendan as he had not even seemed to be shocked by such a murderous act.
"His name is Jacob Lutz, you might have seen me dancing with him at the barn dance? He is a farmer, like my family," Clara explained.