Phin laughed, "Mister Reeve, Virginia City is a mining town plain and simple. Now Kalispell, for all it's faults, and by God it has 'em, that's plain to see, derives much from the fact that we have some mining, cattle ranching, farming, and recently, pig . Now here's the thing, we do all of this by democratic rule. Folks vote for what they want. I need to tell you this, you go poking the bear that's the ranchers, and there'll be hell to pay!'

"What I'm hearing from you both is you want the implementation of an authoritarian form of town government, am I correct here? You want one person to have control of all that is done here in Kalispell. One man, say who decides what he thinks is good for the community as opposed to the will of the people. Sounds a whole lot like Mister Orr and his designs for our little town. So, as fer as cattlemen being on their way out sir, I'm afraid that theory just don't hold water. No more than your miners down south are on their way out. No sir, Kalispell will never put up with an authoritarian style of government. Better to learn from the mistakes on makes than be subjugated."

 "Mister Pettigrew, I'll not print any of this because you seem to be welcomed by the ladies of our fair community, and an inflammatory article would see you run out of town, or worse. Your views of cattlemen, gentlemen, will result in trouble, I assure you."

Phin laughed, "Mister Reeve, Virginia City is a mining town plain and simple. Now Kalispell, for all it's faults, and by God it has 'em, that's plain to see, derives much from the fact that we have some mining, cattle ranching, farming, and recently, pig . Now here's the thing, we do all of this by democratic rule. Folks vote for what they want. I need to tell you this, you go poking the bear that's the ranchers, and there'll be hell to pay!'

Reeve listened to this dissertation politely, the only comment that caused him any comment was that about pig farming apparently being big in the region. "Pig? Oh,  that's interesting. I saw a whole bunch of sheep on the way in, over to the west, gnawing the grass short and spreading the scab. Didn't see much by the way of pork farming." he nodded, noting the intelligence.

"What I'm hearing from you both is you want the implementation of an authoritarian form of town government, am I correct here? You want one person to have control of all that is done here in Kalispell. One man, say who decides what he thinks is good for the community as opposed to the will of the people. Sounds a whole lot like Mister Orr and his designs for our little town. So, as fer as cattlemen being on their way out sir, I'm afraid that theory just don't hold water. No more than your miners down south are on their way out. No sir, Kalispell will never put up with an authoritarian style of government. Better to learn from the mistakes one makes than be subjugated."

It took a second for Reeve to realise that McVey had stopped talking, he jumped a little "Oh, I'm sorry, Mr McVey, I lost track a little there as to whether you're asking me what I think, or telling me what to think. I was under the impression that journalists were supposed to do the former."

"Well, perhaps you could just print that we, er, I am for strong Government and down on filibustering and petty squabbles standing in the way of real progress. And that I strongly support Samuel J. Tilden for the presidency!" said Pettigrew hopefully. But it was Reeve's hair-raising rhetoric that had struck home, apparently.

 "Mister Pettigrew, I'll not print any of this because you seem to be welcomed by the ladies of our fair community, and an inflammatory article would see you run out of town, or worse. Your views of cattlemen, gentlemen, will result in trouble, I assure you."

Surprisingly, it was now the normally placid Mr Pettigrew who had stream coming out of his ears: he shot up out of his seat like a jack-in-the box and started to berate McVey!

"Are you implying, Suh, that I am unable to defend myself! You print every word of what I said and if any man has an issue with it, well I'm not too long in the tooth to..."

Reeve was now on his feet calming the plump old fellow down.

"Now, now, Whus, steady! Steady I say. Mr McVey didn't mean to insult you. All that stuff about protecting you is just an excuse: he daren't print our platform, he's scared it might swing the vote our way! Isn't that right, Mr McVey?" he asked archly.

"Well, he's right about one thing, Mister Pettigrew," dropping the nick-name, "I didn't mean to insult you, no, I meant to warn you. This is cattle country, run by cattlemen. I realize your political views, well, those I've heard anyway, do not look favorably on the men that built this country. Not America, but Montana. Mining, certainly, but cattle, sir, cattle is what built this territory."

"I certainly could print every word you have uttered today, you and Mister Reeve here, that would not be a problem, and would certainly sell a lot of papers, but what I would print is your statement, let's see here, oh, yes 'I am for strong Government and down on filibustering and petty squabbles standing in the way of real progress. And that I strongly support Samuel J. Tilden for the presidency!' That should state your views adequately."

This had gone off the rails loang ago, and continuing to hammer at one another was not going to come to a resolution. And then it came roaring back to him, 'I'm interested in what Mr McVey has to say - what he sees as the ideal solution to Kalispell's woes!' "An idea solution to Kalispell's woes, Mister Reeve, is not to found in some iron fisted power grab by some 'appointed' individual who will no doubt do the bidding of only a segment of the population, that being the upper class in town. No, the 'ideal' solution can be found in the election results, and then in the lessons men learn from their mistakes while doing their best for the people of Kalispell, all the people of Kalispell!"

"Well, he's right about one thing, Mister Pettigrew," dropping the nick-name, "I didn't mean to insult you, no, I meant to warn you. This is cattle country, run by cattlemen. I realize your political views, well, those I've heard anyway, do not look favorably on the men that built this country. Not America, but Montana. Mining, certainly, but cattle, sir, cattle is what built this territory."

"I do not deny that, Mr McVey, but we cannot live in the past! And the situation is changing. Why, beef prices have been depressed for the last three years and no sign of things improving any time soon. Why if..." Pettigrew started, his use of the journalist's more formal appellation reflecting the frostiness of the argumentative McVey's invective.

But then Reeve jumped in "... I'm not criticising the product, just the means of production. Cattle raising needs to be done on a more restricted basis, like the smaller ranches down in the  Madison Valley... they bring 'em out of winter feed much later, and...

"I certainly could print every word you have uttered today, you and Mister Reeve here, that would not be a problem, and would certainly sell a lot of papers, but what I would print is your statement, let's see here, oh, yes 'I am for strong Government and down on filibustering and petty squabbles standing in the way of real progress. And that I strongly support Samuel J. Tilden for the presidency!' That should state your views adequately."

"Print what you like... you usually do! That newspaper is just a expression of your own personal views on everything, anyway..." Pettigrew had his dander up now: the remains of his fiery red mane standing up on end almost with ire.

This had gone off the rails loang ago, and continuing to hammer at one another was not going to come to a resolution. And then it came roaring back to him, 'I'm interested in what Mr McVey has to say - what he sees as the ideal solution to Kalispell's woes!'

Uh? Oh, he was drawing on something Reeve had said a while back before the conversation got nasty.

"An idea solution to Kalispell's woes, Mister Reeve, is not to found in some iron fisted power grab by some 'appointed' individual who will no doubt do the bidding of only a segment of the population, that being the upper class in town. No, the 'ideal' solution can be found in the election results, and then in the lessons men learn from their mistakes while doing their best for the people of Kalispell, all the people of Kalispell!"

"Oh what sanctimonious clap-trap!" bellowed Whus "If you know so much about it all, why don't you stand for Mayor, McVey?!" Oh dear: it wasn't even Mr McVey, now. "Oh, he wouldn't put his money where his mouth is!" Reeve hissed, serpent-like.

"Sure! Shut up or put up!" shouted the dressmaker, and was just about to give Phin a nice juicy poke in the chest to drive home his point when the door cracked open and Jemima poked her head in and looked at the three of them undecidedly. She'd been told to come in with coffee and cigars for the three men after a certain amount of time, but with all the heated arguing discernible from outside the door, she wasn't so sure what to do now.

"What d'you want me to fetch, Mister Pettigrew, the cigars or the shooting irons?" the plain girl asked. She herself usually carried a Smith & Wesson Schofield revolver chambering a short .45 round in her apron pocket; but that was for her own personal use, in case a band of redskins happened to come to town. 

"Neither, Mr McVey was just leaving!!" huffed the insulted ladies' outfitter indignantly.

"Oh what sanctimonious clap-trap!" bellowed Whus "If you know so much about it all, why don't you stand for Mayor, McVey?!" Oh dear: it wasn't even Mr McVey, now. "Oh, he wouldn't put his money where his mouth is!" Reeve hissed, serpent-like.

Phin simply shook his head at the notion he would even consider running for office, any office. If he did, that would end his situation with the Union being viable, and, as much as posisble, unbiased.

"Sure! Shut up or put up!" shouted the dressmaker, and was just about to give Phin a nice juicy poke in the chest to drive home his point when the door cracked open and Jemima poked her head in and looked at the three of them undecidedly. She'd been told to come in with coffee and cigars for the three men after a certain amount of time, but with all the heated arguing discernible from outside the door, she wasn't so sure what to do now.

"What d'you want me to fetch, Mister Pettigrew, the cigars or the shooting irons?" the plain girl asked. She herself usually carried a Smith & Wesson Schofield revolver chambering a short .45 round in her apron pocket; but that was for her own personal use, in case a band of redskins happened to come to town. 

"Hello Jemima." Phin greeted the woman pleasantly.

"Neither, Mr McVey was just leaving!!" huffed the insulted ladies' outfitter indignantly.

"Whus, ah, Mister Pettigrew, excuse me, first I must say to run for Mayor of Kalispell I would have to forfeit my life's work, being the newspaper business. That I do not agree with you or young Mister Reeve here's political views, is no reason to stop doing what I love. You may say what you will, sir about how I go about that job. That is your right. Rights, gentlemen, it is the foundation of the democracy we live in." He paused. "Freedom of the press and freedom of speech." He smiled.

"You are correct sir, I am leaving, and what you point out about my not putting my money where my mouth is, well, I intend to do exactly that! You may continue to espouse your totalitarian rhetoric until the cows come home, oh, forgive me, the reference to the despised beef, what was I thinking? Good Day gentlemen. And, good hunting."

After this final broadside, Jemima showed McVey out. She looked at him sideways when they reached the bottom of the stairs. "So, is that how these newspaper interviews usually go, Mr McVey?" she asked, curiously.

She'd heard every word through the door, of course. Mr Pettigrew she knew well, of course, working for him day in day out. He was usually a kind and considerate employer; but she had, too, witnessed his explosions of anger: the catalyst never being anything she or Miriam did wrong, the odd little mistakes that might be expected in the running of any business. No, it was sometimes the slightest of things that customers or their husbands said or did, anything that impugned his honour as a gentleman. As far as Jemima Wigfall was concerned, Worchester Pettigrew had acted completely to type in the last half hour. 

No, it was the man Reeve who was an enigma to her.

She peeped at McVey sideways as she pulled apart the curtain and let the reporter into the front of the shop, which was empty now. "What do you think of that Reeve feller?" she suddenly asked, blurted it out loud. "There's something funny about him!" she intoned, narrowing her piggy little black eyes and turning her plain features to McVey "He keeps being nice to me!"

Just prior to leaving Pettigrews shop...

After this final broadside, Jemima showed McVey out. She looked at him sideways when they reached the bottom of the stairs. "So, is that how these newspaper interviews usually go, Mr McVey?" she asked, curiously.

"No, not usually, of course politics can raise the dander." Phin replied. "In fact I was surprised at Mister Pettigrews upset over the subject. I had hoped to garner his thoughts on what he would do for the town, it just went in a different direction."

No, it was the man Reeve who was an enigma to her.

She peeped at McVey sideways as she pulled apart the curtain and let the reporter into the front of the shop, which was empty now. "What do you think of that Reeve feller?" she suddenly asked, blurted it out loud. "There's something funny about him!" she intoned, narrowing her piggy little black eyes and turning her plain features to McVey "He keeps being nice to me!"

"He does, well, Miss Wigfall, why wouldn't he be nice to you? I mean, is he staying here? Not that it's any of my business. I can't say my first impression is a good one, and yes, there seems an undercurrent with him, funny would be an apt description, to be sure." There was something about the man that just didn't set right.

"He does, well, Miss Wigfall, why wouldn't he be nice to you?

She shook her head. "I don't mean just polite, like you're being right now. I mean..." she was so unused to anyone, especially handsome young men, being this to her that it took her a second to fish around for the exact word, but it came to her presently  "... attentive."

"Mr Pettigrew had a, what he called a soiree, the other night. He had Mister Vaughn there and Mr Reeve was being attentive to the girls, and I can understand that, like Anaesthesia Orr, because she's pretty and sorta rich now, and Arabella Mudd because, well for all her faults, she can play the piano nicely, but I was just there to wait on and take their coats and hats, but that Reeve feller was all sorts of attentive to me too!" she said with an undisguised frown of confusion. 

She had actually checked in the mirror when she got home afterwards,  to see if she'd miraculously turned pretty all of a sudden, but it was still the same old frowsy face looking back at her. 

"I mean, is he staying here? Not that it's any of my business. I can't say my first impression is a good one, and yes, there seems an undercurrent with him, funny would be an apt description, to be sure." There was something about the man that just didn't set right.

"He stays over at the Orr's" Jemima shrugged "That cockroach Mister Orr left him some money and property in his will, Reeve was at the reading last week. Left me some, too, for some reason. Don't know why: I hated that dirty great snake!" she spat quite vehemently. 

Her piggy little black eyes suddenly burned intensely and she hissed to McVey as they reached the front door "I'm glad he burned to death!!" Then she opened it for the journalist and said pleasantly "Well, evening Mr McVey. Nice talking with you."

"And to you, Miss Wigfall, Jemima. And yes indeed there is something not quite right, heir to the Orr estate or not. But you have a pleasant rest of your day, and enjoy the mans attentiveness while you have it." He placed his top hat on his head as he stepped outside, then turned. "And should you have any new information concerning our Mister Reeve, I would enjoy hearing it. Not to worry, Mister Pettigrew's mention in the paper will not reflect what was said her today."