Arabella just shook her sadly. "Oh Mr McVay. And I thought we could be friends." She shrugged and looked at Sarah. "It ain't us you need to talk to, Mrs Carlton-Thornton-Carlton" she said "It's HIM what needs a talkin' to!" she concluded, pointing an admonishing finger at Phin before exiting behind Caroline.
Actually Caroline closed the door quite calmly, she could have slammed it. But she was calming down now, she'd had her say and even better she'd gotten just about the only sort of vengeance she could have gotten for Lorenzo. She knew the newspaperman would never have agreed to write a second kinder gentler article about her old friend. Which is why she never even asked.
"Thanks for holding me back, Ara. I lost it there for a bit," she smiled at the girl she was now arm and arm with.
"When I'm dead and gone, I can only imagine what the paper will say about me," she smirked, "Not that I give a damn."
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
As Caroline left the Newspaper Offices and walked back along Kalispell Main Street to The Stardust, Arabella hung onto her for dear life.
"Thanks for holding me back, Ara. I lost it there for a bit," she smiled at the girl she was now arm and arm with.
"Oh, I was so scairt when you thumped him one, you was SO brave! Lorenzo will be lookin' down from Heaven so proud of you." cooed the younger girl, clearly impressed with Caroline's martial prowess. "Hehe, the look on his face!!" She held up the slugger's right hand and pouted "Oh your poor hand, we'll need to put it in cold water when we get back, them knuckles is bound to bruise after a hit like that. Oh! Wait till we tell Ralph! Don't let's tell Fortner, though, he wouldn't understand. He might say we've brung the Saloon into disrepuke." she prattled on.
"When I'm dead and gone, I can only imagine what the paper will say about me," she smirked, "Not that I give a damn."
"Tsk! You ain't never gonna die!" Arabella assured her "Don't talk that-a-way. Now me, I'm gonna die and when I do, I'm gonna have six black horses with black plumes and a glass coffin on the hearse and everyone's gonna see me lyin' there in my beautiful white shroud and say 'oh wa'n't she soooo beautiful! Why'd she have to die so young!?' And they'lll all be cryin' and wailin' up and down the street. And that nasty old McVey will say 'he he he, now I'll write some nasty stuff about her, but you'll come up and say 'I told you once, I ain't tellin' you again!' and then you'll bust him in the snook again!" she daydreamed.
Sarah watched the two ladies leave the Union office. A plan was already formulating in her mind.
She turned to her boss, "Looks like the late Mr. Crabbe had some admirers after all. Most of the stories I heard about him, weren't that flattering but there are lot worse people around. Even Elias Steelgrave has his supporters."
Walking back to the counter, she sighed, "I do think we should offer those two a peace offering of some sort. I know that you probably don't want to but I think it might wise, especially if either of them have any sway with regular saloon going crowd. After all, they're potential subscribers to the newspapers as well and in a town the size of Kalispell, we can't afford to lose too many."
"Every town needs a newspaper."
She turned to her boss, "Looks like the late Mr. Crabbe had some admirers after all. Most of the stories I heard about him, weren't that flattering but there are lot worse people around. Even Elias Steelgrave has his supporters."
"Oh he does, not that many, but yes even Steelgrave has those that think he's a good man." Phin said wiping away an errant trickle of blood. "I'll stand by my column, however. They may eulogize him all they want, I disagree. In fact, it is good he is gone."
Walking back to the counter, she sighed, "I do think we should offer those two a peace offering of some sort. I know that you probably don't want to but I think it might wise, especially if either of them have any sway with regular saloon going crowd. After all, they're potential subscribers to the newspapers as well and in a town the size of Kalispell, we can't afford to lose too many."
"Really?" he asked, "and how, might I ask, are we to do that after the display we have witnessed? I realize those that frequent the saloon to see Miss songbird may or may not subscribe, or even buy the paper." He snorted, "I doubt most of them can read. But, just what is it that you have in mind to sooth their tempers?"
"Mr. McVay, I think you underestimate those who frequent the Stardust. While it may be true that some of them can't read, there will be plenty who can as it is the only saloon in town that most working men can afford to go to," she answered, "The bar at the St. Belle is way beyond the reach of many of them."
"Whether you like it or not, the blonde-haired woman would probably be very influential and we need to keep her on our side, not just for financial reasons but for anything else that may eventuate."
Sarah went over to take her seat at her desk, "What I propose is that we show her some goodwill and allow her to tell us her side of the story. Considering what I've heard about the late Mr. Crabbe, it may be doubtful that many will believe it but we must print it nonetheless."
"Every town needs a newspaper."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Now the Stardust Saloon may be the focal point of the world to some, but it's hardly where Kalispell's world revolves around. The new owner, Franklin Fortner, and his crony, Hiram Priest, who believes he should be mayor, are not exactly the creme of Kalispell society." He expounded. "And I will agree a great number of men in town do utilize the establishment, that's a fact. But not like it's the pulse of the town. Actually far from it. Oh it garners the men that go there for a number of reasons, information, range conditions, mining news, and yes to that extent some stay to listen to the quavering songbird."
He shook his head, "Print what? What is there to print? What facts are there to dispute what is already common knowledge of the man? It's not she would offer up these facts if I asked, and I no cause to print a retraction. But tell me, how would we print anything more about Lorenzo Crabbe?"
Sarah sighed. Phinn was obviously still too angry to understand what she was getting at. "The point is not what we write about Crabbe, it's that we write about him."
She paused momentarily to gather her thoughts, "I assume that want this newspaper to be seen as unbiased and not just a mouthpiece for one particular person or group. That is why it's important to print both sides of the story, even if we don't agree with what is being said."
"Every town needs a newspaper."
Phin stood, contemplating the idea. "I had actually not given much thought to the saloon rabble, including the women as to what should be printed regarding Lorenzo Crabbe, and perhaps what should not. They do very little for the town. It has gone down hill since Matilda Devereau sold out to this Fortner character, but, yes, perhaps there are some good things that should be written about the departed."
It could be done, he supposed, there was the girl he had taken in, yes there were some things he should put in the next issue.
"Every town needs a newspaper."
Phinn sat, a fresh cup of hours old coffee in his porcelain cup, Yes, the idea of qyelling the rabble with an issue about Lorenzo Crabbe highlighting any good he may have ever done, not that there was a great deal that he was actually aware of, other than the Monahan girl, though when he thought of that, who would have come forward to care for here other than perhaps Arabella Mudd and the blind girl, whose name escaped him momentarily.
Grimes, sister of the deceased Frank Grimes. Francis, yes that was her name, and together the three were going to open the old funeral home for young ladies who needed a refuge from the hostile world. Hostile world, accurate description of the west, and Kalispell in particular. Though it certainly did not appear to be hostile to those who passed through, even those that decided to settle, such as the Poteets. A sad story to be sure.
However most of that was not Crabbe's story, far from it. The funeral home? That was simply where he had lived and died, and would be bequeathed to Miss Monahan after his passing, hence the three disabled young women banding together there, though that was no longer a possibility what with The Wentworth's stepping in to care for Miss Monahan and the slippery-slick Mister Lewis Cass Reeves, supposed attorney at law who was handling the Crabbe estate. Which brought to mind, for who?
"Go ahead and hang me, it was worth it!"
There was a sharp rap at the door to the office, which then opened without the caller being bidden to enter. It was a young woman of around 20 years of age whom the Editor of the Kalispell Union would, perhaps, have recognised as Zenobia Matthews, daughter of the town's now reclusive and defunct barber, Abraham Matthews. Indeed, her little brother Raymond often delivered telegrams to the newspaper office, bringing news from the rest of the United States, not to mention the wider world at large.
She could have been attractive; what stopped her being so was not the slight defect of a slight turn in her left eye or a somewhat tubercular skinniness, it was her snappy and sniffy manner: a trait not helped, it had to be said, by the stresses and strains of her mother's year long decline, brought on by chronic and now terminal heart failure.
She walked in all business.
"Mr McVey. Good Day to you. I wish to place an advertisement in your newspaper."
It was about the nicest thing she had said to anybody in the last twelve months.