"Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see the shadows" - Helen Keller
"Thank you for your trust Miss Grimes." The statement allowed him a smile in an unsavory situation of bearing bad news. "In fact I do have offices, just down the street a ways. And I dare say that my office is where I'm likely to find Mister Vaughn." He offered, "I can escort you there if you like. It's not far."
The thought of leaving the apartment - now! - made her realise how deep in shock she was, the idea seemed horrifying somehow, and she was about to demur for a later time, but she also realised that she had to live now by the old adage "Gather your rosebuds while ye may." Guyer was here, now, offering help: she must immediately take him up on it.
"Yes, thank you Mr. Guyer." she said resolutely, standing. Her steps toward the peg that held her shawl were practiced and firm, she also took up her stick. Apart from that wanton, Caroline Mundee, and the crossdressing Addy Chappel, Frances was about the only full grown woman in town who eschewed the wearing of a respectable bonnet when out and about in public. There was too much danger of upsetting her eye bandage in pulling such a head-dress on and off.
"Shall we?" she asked the Marshall. She knew he had stood up.
"The law is the law."
"Mining's not everyone's choice of hobbies, it just happens to be mine."
"Yes, ma'am, we shall." Speed agreed, "May I get the door?"
As a man with vision the landing and stairs looked to be a challenge, considering her condition, but he was there to support her if in fact she needed to be supported. It was clear she had made both the descent and ascent many times since she came to town, so he relied on her asking for his help without verbally offering it.
Once to the bottom and the boardwalk he guided her across the street as that was where his office was, and for the moment traffic was light, and easily traversed to the opposite boardwalk. they made their way to his office without incident, Speed opening the door and ushering her inside, as he stepped through behind her and closed the door.
"Miss Ada Fetterman, Miss Francis Grimes. She is here to see Mister Vaughn about his legal expertise."
"Welcome Miss Grimes. Mister Vaughn should be back in just a few minutes. If you'd like to have a seat?" She offered, having seen her on the street before she was not taken aback by the cloth over her eyes. "He's just across the street."
"Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see the shadows" - Helen Keller
Frances felt strangely 'on the spot' and under scrutiny, with Marshall Guyer walking along side of her and occasionally helping her. To be honest, the only really useful parts of that were when he helped her across the street: she usually just had to rely on listening out and making it clear she was crossing to any silent approaching horsemen (vehicles she could usually hear coming, no matter how well oiled their springs and how jangle free their harness) and, of course, he knew where exactly they were going.
The room they finally reached, she knew she had never entered before: it had the faint odour of the bookshop she had sometimes visited back home where a pitiful few titles produced in 'New York Point' braille could be purchased, along with a hardly discernible smell of some feminine perfume.
"Miss Ada Fetterman, Miss Francis Grimes. She is here to see Mister Vaughn about his legal expertise."
With no point of reference, Frances had to content herself with saying "Hello" to the room at large.
"Welcome Miss Grimes."
"Thank you" Frances smiled to the area where the small but firm female voice had come from.
"Mister Vaughn should be back in just a few minutes. If you'd like to have a seat?" She offered, having seen her on the street before she was not taken aback by the cloth over her eyes. "He's just across the street."
Another "Thank you" and then "Could you lead me to the chair please? I don't know this room yet." It was the sort of polite but firm request for help that she was used to making... when she needed help.
Once she was seated, she asked "What is the name of this office, please. I might have to ask someone for directions, if I need to come here again." Because the Marshall had led her here, she had not been able to try and memorize the route as she normally would.
"The law is the law."
"Mining's not everyone's choice of hobbies, it just happens to be mine."
"Mister Vaughn should be back in just a few minutes. If you'd like to have a seat?" She offered, having seen her on the street before she was not taken aback by the cloth over her eyes. "He's just across the street."
Another "Thank you" and then "Could you lead me to the chair please? I don't know this room yet." It was the sort of polite but firm request for help that she was used to making... when she needed help.
"Of course, please excuse me, Miss Grimes, I forget myself sometimes. Here," He led her to a chair and assisted her in locating the armrests. He was glad that the chair had arms and was not just a perch with a back
Once she was seated, she asked "What is the name of this office, please. I might have to ask someone for directions, if I need to come here again." Because the Marshall had led her here, she had not been able to try and memorise the route as she normally would.
"You are in the offices of Wood and Guyer Mining Company. My business, that Miss Fetterman pretty much holds together while I'm occupied with my job as Marshal. Mister Vaughn is new to my employ, but has good deal of legal knowledge, hopefully the type that you need."
"Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see the shadows" - Helen Keller
Frances nodded her understanding of this information.
Then there was a bit of a strained silence. It was a little more difficult for Frances to make small talk than for others: she couldn't ask about a curious map on the wall or say 'nice little place you've got here'.
"He's English, you say?" she asked of Vaughn, not that it really mattered. It was just the only thing she could think of to say. She was also a little self conscious, should she seem more upset than she was about Frank's shocking demise, should she be more the grieving sister?
Actually, she was beginning to feel a tremendous amount of relief and freedom and she, somewhat guiltily, started to worry that there might be some mistake, and she might suddenly hear his voice drawl "Ha ha! Joke's on you Sis! Me and some pals were just havin' some fun with you, don't worry, I ain't dead at all!!"
Frank often played tricks and practical jokes on her, his favourite was to move the furniture around, so she would trip over things. That really used to make him laugh.
She certainly wouldn't miss that.
His errand done, James waited on the edge of the street for the stagecoach to pass down the road before he started across back to the surveyor’s office. Once he reached the door, James paused a moment, smoothing down his hair before he turned the knob and walked in. The sight of the young woman with the cloth tied over her eyes, sitting in one of the chairs. “Hello.” James said, his words betraying his origins, even as he gave a slightly puzzled look at the Marshall and Miss Ada. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m James Vaughn.” Raised to be polite, he started to offer his hand, flushed when it hit him that she must not be able to see, and clasped his hands behind his back, watching her with a slight smile on his face.
James hadn’t had any real experience with the blind before, so he did his best not to stare. She might not have been able to see him, but it felt rude to the young man. Rather like the way that his schoolmates had treated him back at boarding school. He’d hated it so doing anything of the like to someone else was out of character for him.
"Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see the shadows" - Helen Keller
Convention dictated that a lady receive a gentleman seated: but Frances stood and thrust out a hand in the direction of the softly spoken 'hello' : she relied as much on the feel of a hand as the tenor of a voice, when it came to getting to know a new person: especially important in one who might figure large in her life as she tried to settle her late brother's tangled affairs.
To the softly spoken man, out there in the darkness somewhere, she said exactly the same thing that she had said to the Marshall: "Please take my hand, I can't see yours."
She always said that. It was an invitation to come in: come in to her world of touch, smell and sound, and it disposed of the elephant in the room that people often skirted in the most elaborate of ways to avoid mentioning: her blindness.
When James took her hand, she clasped it with the other, too: and felt. It was soft, yes, this man worked with his mind, not his hands and he was diffident in his manner: but his hands were dry and with an underlying strength that perhaps he himself did not realise he possessed, she fancied.
"I am hopeful that you will be of great help to me, Mr Vaughn. I have just been informed by the Marshall that my brother has been killed. I wish to employ your legal talents in tidying up his affairs..." a mundane if messy task, in Frank Grimes' case. But the next part was not so straightforward "... and investigate whether I cannot prosecute the killer for damages."
The Marshall had declared that it was a pure case of self defence, but she had come across this live-and-let-live complicity between the law and more well to do miscreants in new York, Denver City and Portland: everywhere she had lived. She did not expect Kalispell to be any different.
"The law is the law."
"Mining's not everyone's choice of hobbies, it just happens to be mine."
Speed listened to the opening of her discourse with James, and felt comfortable that he would be able to help her. He wished that Dutton Peabody was on hand for this situation, to offer his advise to the young man, then too, having Peabody in town would have been a boon for James, as he could have worked for both he and Dutton. But here he would find himself handling Miss Grimes matters on his own, which Speed had great confidence he would do well.
He had other matters to attend to, for one, to deliver those confiscated guns to Oskar Winter, see what he could get for them, either outright or, on consignment. How ever that went, the money would go to Miss Grimes for her support. Then too, the matter of the horse and tack. The proceeds of that too would be rightfully hers and Gunther Schmidt would do the best he could.
"You'll excuse me, I've some pressing matters to attend to. If I may, I'll leave you in Mister Vaughn's capable hands." Speed said. No need to explain for the moment.
When the young lady rose, thrusting her hand in his general direction, James moved forward, his own hand reaching out towards her smaller one when she spoke, directing him to take her hand. “Yes of course.” James said, his tone apologetic for not realizing it sooner.
When her other hand came to rest against the back of his hand, James gave a gentle squeeze, not wanting to hurt the delicate fingers in his grasp. James didn’t consider himself particularly strong by any stretch of the imagination but her slender fingers made his hand feel big and rough in comparison.
“Oh….” James breathed, faintly relieved by her request. “I can certainly guide you through handling his affairs. Though I should tell you that while I did study law I was not able to complete my studies so I fear that I may not be the best person for prosecuting anyone.” He laid his other hand atop their still clasped fingers. “That being said, I know the law well enough to help defray the cost of an actual practicing soli… err lawyer.”
When the marshal announced that he had to going, commenting that he was leaving the young blind lady in James’ capable hands, James flushed, touched by the confidence shown him by the marshal. “Yes sir.” He murmured, then turned his full attention back to Frances even though she couldn’t tell. “Shall we sit?” He suggested, “My desk is back here.”
James looked at the distance between where they stood and the location of his desk. “Um… I think I’ll need a moment first. To bring the other chair to my desk. Wait here?” He eased his hand free of hers, then hurried to move the chair over to the other side of his desk. Then he returned to her side, “Here.” He said so she would know he’d returned, then took her hand again, guiding her to the chair he’d moved for her. Once she was seated, James took his own seat, drawing a piece of paper and a pen towards him. “Tell me about your brother’s affairs.”
"Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see the shadows" - Helen Keller
“Oh….” James breathed, faintly relieved by her request. “I can certainly guide you through handling his affairs. Though I should tell you that while I did study law I was not able to complete my studies so I fear that I may not be the best person for prosecuting anyone.”
She smiled reassuringly. "I only need you to find out the truth, Mr. Vaughn. Once I have that, I can make certain... decisions." she announced confidently.
He laid his other hand atop their still clasped fingers. “That being said, I know the law well enough to help defray the cost of an actual practicing soli… err lawyer.”
Frances nodded and smiled some more. "I think you will find that we are less fussy about titles in our Republic, than in your Island home. And you will not have to wear a wig... unless you are bald, of course." she explained. She had heard about English Judges and certain lawyers - barristers or Queen's Councils or something - who had to wear powdered white wigs like George Washington.
“Shall we sit?” He suggested, “My desk is back here.”
"Thank you." agreed Frances, letting go of James' hand only reluctantly. People made assumptions: she was blind, therefore she was inert to any feelings, those very normal longings that any young woman might feel. Feelings of romance... a hope to find true love... to marry well. You could almost hear them say 'But how can she fall in love? She cannot see if a man is handsome or ugly?' But there were other senses: she could hear the wonderful lilt of a voice, an intriguing foreign accent; she could feel the touch of a hand: soft, diffident, but undeniably male; she could smell the musk, the pheromone laden scent beneath the usual embellishment of soap cleaned skin, shaving lather and pomade. These jigsaw pieces added up to a picture in her head that needed not sight to complete it.
James looked at the distance between where they stood and the location of his desk. “Um… I think I’ll need a moment first. To bring the other chair to my desk. Wait here?” He eased his hand free of hers, then hurried to move the chair over to the other side of his desk. Then he returned to her side, “Here.” He said so she would know he’d returned, then took her hand again, guiding her to the chair he’d moved for her.
"Mr. Vaughn, you need not worry so, I am not made of china." she smiled modestly: but she liked his care of her.
Once she was seated, James took his own seat, drawing a piece of paper and a pen towards him. “Tell me about your brother’s affairs.”
"That I do not know." she started simply enough "My brother: Francis Grosvenor Grimes Junior: all I do know for sure is that he seemed always to be short of money: yet able to acquire items, very expensive items, I might add, out of the blue, on occasion. Did he borrow, did he steal? If he owed money, then I feel it incumbent upon myself, as his next of kin, to repay those debts or to right those wrongs" she proclaimed, with noble resolve.