“I am Arabella Sumpter Mudd, of the Tazewell County Mudds, Old Dominion.” she almost sang it.
Mike pretended not to see the hand offered in what he suspected, waiting for him to bestowed a kiss upon it. Growing up in Washington D.C. society, he knew that a kiss on the hand could be interpreted in a number of ways. Due to the experiences he had had in the past, he had made up his mind long ago that the only women, whose hands he would be kissed would those he was romantically inclined towards and Miss Mudd was not one of them. Instead he opted for a half bow, hoping that would satisfy the girl. "It's nice to finally know your name."
“Are you by perchance, doing a little shopping, Mr Wentworth?” she asked, looking at his wagon full of supplies from the General Store, although if he wasn’t shopping, then he must certainly be robbing the place! “Oh, how helpful for your wife!” she added with a gay and surreptitiously probing air.
Your wife? Raising an eyebrow, Mike was about to say something when she suddenly invited Clara to come and inspect the goods he had in the wagon. Then she was chattering about where she worked and what she did there. There was some mention about him not drinking spirits, which was sort of true. He preferred beer but now and then he would have a whiskey when he felt like having something stronger. Somehow, it was beginning to look like one of those times. Looking over at Clara, he suspected that if she had been old enough, she probably would have one herself.
“Oh, how I do run on Mr Wentworth, you must think me a terrible chatterbox!” she cried, fishing for him to say how she wasn’t.
Part of him wanted to tell her yes but since he was raised to be a gentleman, he shook his head slightly, "No, Miss Mudd, I think you have an unique way of saying things."
In a way it was the truth but since he probably wouldn't be seeing her again any time soon, he thought that her behaviour might be a result of the ordeal she had been through. If her prattling on was a way to deal with what happened then he didn't right in making her upset. Hopefully, the people at the Stardust would help her out.
Knowing that time was running short and that he needed to start heading back to Lost Lake, he smiled graciously, "Well, I hate to cut our time short, Miss Clara and Miss Mudd, but I do have to get the rest of the supplies loaded."
Clara just stood there as the scene played out, or rather Arabella flooded the poor man by going on and on. She felt badly for Mr. Wentworth, having had to endure this herself back when the girl stayed with them. Oh she was harmless alright and had suffered some very hard times so it was hard not to feel sorry for her but still she was .....well, annoying to say the least. Not that Clara was going to say anything. In fact she decided she needed to break away from this and go on with her business.
"I am certain his wagon is quite full, Arabella," Clara did not wish to examine any of the items within, none of her business or interest for that matter.
"Oh, how I do run on Mr Wentworth, you must think me a terrible chatterbox!” Arabella cried.
The foreman was a true gentleman though, unlike his youngest brother.
"No, Miss Mudd, I think you have an unique way of saying things."
Oh Clara so wanted to jump in with a crack but Christian forebearance won over.
The man smiled graciously, "Well, I hate to cut our time short, Miss Clara and Miss Mudd, but I do have to get the rest of the supplies loaded."
"Oh yes, I do too, I need to get back to work soon at the diner. Nice talking to you, Mr. Wentworth. Please give my regards to those at the ranch, I do miss them. Most of them," Clara now seized on the opening to make her own strategic retreat.
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
"No, Miss Mudd, I think you have an unique way of saying things."
Oh Clara so wanted to jump in with a crack but Christian forebearance won over.
Arabella giggled and waved a hand at him “Well, fan my brow, Mr Wentworth, you’re making me blush. ‘Though it has been said I do have a way with words, some have even opined that I could one day become a novelist, after they read some of the stuff what I have wrote.” She informed him.
The man smiled graciously, "Well, I hate to cut our time short, Miss Clara and Miss Mudd, but I do have to get the rest of the supplies loaded."
“How selfish of us to hold you up, but it has been such a delight! I was only just…” but Clara cut her off. Arabella could understand why she might be in a hurry to move on, if she was late back to the diner with whatever it was she’d been sent out for, that ogress Ms Blakesley, she imagined, would probably whip her, or chide her, at least. Her Mammy Cookie, on the other hand, would just give her a big hug and tell her that she’d been worried about her coming back late.
"Oh yes, I do too, I need to get back to work soon at the diner. Nice talking to you, Mr. Wentworth. Please give my regards to those at the ranch, I do miss them. Most of them," Clara now seized on the opening to make her own strategic retreat.
“I, too, must tear myself away, I’m afraid” Arabella sighed, realizing that this first meeting was drawing to a close. “May I just say, thank you once again.” she pushed out her hand more manfully this time, like a gentleman might: surely he could not refuse to take it.
She just wanted to touch his hand again, that hand that had lifted her from the grasp of death
"Oh yes, I do too, I need to get back to work soon at the diner. Nice talking to you, Mr. Wentworth. Please give my regards to those at the ranch, I do miss them. Most of them," Clara now seized on the opening to make her own strategic retreat.
"And a good day to you Miss Clara," Mike answered as he tipped his hat towards her.
Turning back to the other girl, Mike saw that she had extended her hand as she thanked him. Shaking her hand was a more safer option than the one she had presented him earlier, he took and gave it a slight sake before letting it go.
He was about to say goodbye, when his brother Sam came out, "Mike, Mr. Wilson's finished putting the last of that order together."
"Thanks," he replied, feeling a bit relieved that he could now depart with a more plausible reason. Smiling, he turned to Arabella, "It's been a pleasure to make your acquaintance and once again I'm glad to see that you have recovered from your ordeal."
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
Turning back to the other girl, Mike saw that she had extended her hand as she thanked him. Shaking her hand was a more safer option than the one she had presented him earlier, he took and gave it a slight shake before letting it go.
Arabella grinned like a goon when her hero shook her hand, and she deliberately tried to imprint the feeling of it on her memory, so that she would be able to moon over it later on.
He was about to say goodbye, when his brother Sam came out, "Mike, Mr. Wilson's finished putting the last of that order together."
"Thanks," he replied, feeling a bit relieved that he could now depart with a more plausible reason. Smiling, he turned to Arabella, "It's been a pleasure to make your acquaintance and once again I'm glad to see that you have recovered from your ordeal."
“Oh, it’s mutual, I’m sure!” she beamed, knocking out one last mini-curtsy, just for good measure. She actually considered standing there and waiting until they’d loaded the last of the goods onto the wagon, just so she could wave him off, but she didn’t want to make it too obvious that she was obsessed with him: that could put a feller off. Instead she walked backwards into the store, grinning at Mike and giving another little wave as she crashed into Granny Miggins who gave a yelp and aimed several words at her that weren’t to be found in Webster's Dictionary.
“Why don’t y’watch where you’re going, girl!?” the old lady complained as she exited the place “What’s so gosh darned interestin’ out here to look at anyway?” Then she clocked the two handsome Wentworth men loading the wagon up.
“Oh, I seen it! I seen it!” she shouted back to Arabella, who was now inside “No, you ignore me, child, you just carry on walkin’ backward! I was young m’self oncst, you know!” she cackled, shaking her head and muttering as she moved on: something along the lines of “Why, if I was only fifty years younger myself…he he he.”
I always feel I belong where I am.
As they were loading the buckboard with the rest of the supplies, Sam noticed that every time Mike went inside, the young girl he had seen early would stand transfixed watching his every move. Mike seemed not to notice but that was understandable since he was busy making sure the order was correct and safely loaded.
After everything had been loaded, Sam got up on to the seat and waited for Mike, who was talking to Mr. Wilson. He could still see the mysterious girl every know and then look out the window with a look that he could only describe as admiration. A smile crept on his face as he realised that his older brother had made a conquest. It was still there when Mike boarded the wagon, "What's so funny," he asked.
"Oh nothing," he said looking over to the window, "but I do think you should wave good-bye to your young friend."
Mike looked over to the window and then back again to his brother, "She's still there? I suppose I'd better since I did save her life."
"Saved her life?"
"Yeah, apparently I rescued her from near death in Whitefish. She thanked me earlier and she's probably still feeling a bit grateful." Mike turned back to window, smiled, and waved before picking up the reins to start the horses moving. "I hope that's the end of that."
"The end?" Sam frowned before another smile formed on his face, "You know she is a tad young for you."
The look Mike gave him, made Sam laugh out loud, "C'mon, how could you not see that she thinks you are her beautiful dreamer."
Sam watched the scowl appear on Mike's face and he knew that his brother had noticed. Also, mentioning his favourite song was a sure way of hitting a nerve. Deep down, they both knew that it was friendly ribbing but still he could see that Mike wasn't happy about the prospect of having an unwanted admirer. After a few minutes of silence, he spoke up, "It can't be that bad."
Mike shook his head slightly, "I don't know for sure but one thing I do know is that I aim to avoid Miss Arabella Mudd as much as I can until her feelings of gratitude towards me subside."