A good person is like a good gun: Reliable to the Last.
It was six 'o'clock sharp when Roland arrived on the street in front of Miss Thornton's cottage house. His muscles still ached a bit from the work he'd put into settling his possessions into his new shop and home. The space was a good one for both purposes, with an expansive lower area for his shop and a bedroom on the upper floor with a window that faced the street. He'd found that the building even had some leftover amenities from the previous owner, not the least of which was a bed. And a stove he could put his kettles onto!
He'd drunk the last bit of his Darjeeling before setting out today. It was likely to be the last of that leaf he'd enjoy for a while. Though... perhaps the restaurant at the local hotel would surprise him. The beauty of the local reporter already had.
Roland had done his best to be presentable in these environs with the materials available to him. He still only had the one dinner suit, which he'd brushed carefully to excise all dust. Doubtless it would need a new brushing by tomorrow, but at least it was decently presentable this evening.
He himself was bathed, shaved, beard-trimmed, and combed under his black hat. His boots were polished, and his socks were new. Everything he could do to tip the odds in his favor had been done.
Now all that was left was to knock.
He approached the small home and paused for a moment at the doorstep to check his breath by cupping a hand to his face. The minty powers of Hood's Tooth Powder were still ably freshening his breath.
He cleared his throat, reached out, and lightly rapped the door.
Not one for wasting too much time, Sarah was ready by the time she heard the knock on the door. She had gotten home shortly after five o'clock, which had given her plenty of time to change clothes and have a quick wash. Thankfully, she had a job that didn't involve too much heavy labour, so there wasn't much to do.
Tonight, would be the first time in a while that she would be having dinner with a gentleman. Usually, her dinners were simple and quick affairs as she didn't like cooking all that much. At times she wished she back in San Francisco where she had a cook and a housekeeper. Even though she could still afford to hire someone to cook and clean, she had decided not to so far for various reasons. One was that, even though she had plenty money and a small income from her the articles she was still sending to various eastern and west coast magazines. There was also the income from her job at the Union but she didn't know how long it any of it would last.
As for dining alone, well that came with the territory of being a widow and single woman. For a while there, she had the company of Matt Wentworth at dinner and for the occasional lunch which they partook mainly at the hotel restaurant. However, recently he had stopped courting her and she was a bit perplexed as to why. Maybe it was his decision to run for mayor or maybe it was something or more to the point someone else. Whatever the reason, she was glad that she was free to get to know other men.
Getting up, she walked to the door and opened it. A gracious smile crept on her face, "Good evening, Mr. Smith."
@ [Cuban Writer]
A good person is like a good gun: Reliable to the Last.
Roland's eyes lighted with bright interest upon Miss Thornton's comely countenance.
"A good evening indeed, Miss Thornton, now that I lay my eyes upon you."
He gestured vaguely at the street, "I hope you don't mind that I've left my horse stabled. I thought we might enjoy a walk to the hotel. The evening breeze is steady but light, and the setting sun is warm enough to take the edge off of any chill. Plus, I so rarely get to share a leisurely stroll with a lovely lady."
Never mind the fact that- while he would certainly enjoy lifting her up into his saddle, such contact might be too intimate for a first meeting. Miss Thornton had the hallmarks of a learned and refined lady, unlikely to appreciate the sorts of casual roughness his recent wagoner took for Tuesdays.
Roland assumed a position and prepared to chart a course that would steer Miss Thornton clear of any unpleasant street debris, while keeping his gun-hand free. After recent events, he was unwilling to accept that even the town might be free of danger. Kalispell was the line where civilization ended... and he suspected that the line was somewhat blurred.
"A good evening indeed, Miss Thornton, now that I lay my eyes upon you."
Sarah raised her eyebrows slightly before giving her escort a smile. After her husband died, she had been courted by a few men and so she knew how easy these sorts of compliments were thrown. Still it was nice that he gave her.
He gestured vaguely at the street, "I hope you don't mind that I've left my horse stabled. I thought we might enjoy a walk to the hotel. The evening breeze is steady but light, and the setting sun is warm enough to take the edge off of any chill. Plus, I so rarely get to share a leisurely stroll with a lovely lady."
"A walk would be nice," she replied, "I wish I could take a stroll after the sun goes down, especially on the days when it is hot, but alas for a woman in my position I cannot."
Taking his arm, she smiled again, "Ready when you are."
A good person is like a good gun: Reliable to the Last.
"...I wish I could take a stroll after the sun goes down, especially on the days when it is hot, but alas for a woman in my position I cannot."
"Well," Roland opined with a smirk as he positioned his arm for her to take, "perhaps in time someone will be able to take up a position beside you, at any hour, without drawing any raised eyebrows."
As they began their walk, Roland recalled the circumstances of his arrival here. "Though, I must admit the town of Kalispell has proved to be much more... liberal... than I would have suspected from those stories about the states which we read in British papers. I'd never have suspected a woman to be my wagoner when I brought supplies here from Oakdale. Nor would I have imagined her to be a capable comrade in arms when the situation turned dire.
Now, after also meeting you and discovering which career you call your own, I'm past imagining what a woman might be barred from on this frontier. It seems the only limits are in one's imagination."
He regarded her with appreciation, "And perhaps that is one place where the American West holds something valuable that the rest of the world lacks. Can it be that the people of Kalispell have found better things to do with their time than hold onto old biases about the fairer sex? Or has the acquisition of new biases- against the West Indians perhaps- left no room for the old?"
Perhaps it was the sole gift of old Europeans to heap biases upon each other ad infinitum.
Maybe younger nations had eschewed such dubious powers.
@[Sarah Thornton-Carlton]
"Well," Roland opined with a smirk as he positioned his arm for her to take, "perhaps in time someone will be able to take up a position beside you, at any hour, without drawing any raised eyebrows."
"Maybe," Sarah replied in a neutral tone.
As they began their walk, Roland recalled the circumstances of his arrival here. "Though, I must admit the town of Kalispell has proved to be much more... liberal... than I would have suspected from those stories about the states which we read in British papers. I'd never have suspected a woman to be my wagoner when I brought supplies here from Oakdale. Nor would I have imagined her to be a capable comrade in arms when the situation turned dire.
Now, after also meeting you and discovering which career you call your own, I'm past imagining what a woman might be barred from on this frontier. It seems the only limits are in one's imagination."
"People make do the best way that they can here," Sarah smiled, "and sometimes the only person available to do a job is a woman."
He regarded her with appreciation, "And perhaps that is one place where the American West holds something valuable that the rest of the world lacks. Can it be that the people of Kalispell have found better things to do with their time than hold onto old biases about the fairer sex? Or has the acquisition of new biases- against the West Indians perhaps- left no room for the old?"
"Unfortunately, the biases will always be here for both women and the Indians. Even though most accept a woman working somewhere she isn't meant to, it goes only so far. Once a woman marries...or re-marries she is still expected to give up any work she may have been doing to stay home and take care of her husband and any children they have. Unless she finds a very liberal man, even Miss Addy, the local wagon driver will have to give it up if and when she marries."
She smiled again, "Then again a woman may decide never to marry in favour of her chosen profession and that Mister Smith would be very radical indeed."
@[CubanWriter]
A good person is like a good gun: Reliable to the Last.
Roland considered what she'd said, and the meaning that might be hidden between folds of words.
"It has been much the same in London, where I lived most of my life," Roland replied as they walked along, "but there is a sign the old ways are changing. A household can not always contend with the expenses of their lives on one income alone. And though it pains a man to admit he needs the help, reality can be unforgiving.
And so, married women increasingly take work aside from their role making homes. Perhaps in a generation or two it will even be common..."
He eyed his walking companion, his mind working to ferret out the truth of her from the crumbs he'd picked up thus far.
"But that is altogether different, I suppose, from your situation.
Few are those who fall into the role of a newspaper reporter by sheer necessity alone. There must be some craving for the task. A hunger for truth. A romance with words. A relish in seeing one's words on the page, proclaiming the truth, and changing the world.
Even a small corner of the world like Kalispell surely has its need for truth and change."
He paused to let a horse and its rider clomp by, tipping his hat in acknowledgement of the stranger. He'd become adept at hat-tipping already in his short time in the Americas.
"Perhaps one could hope that- if a man found interest in a woman with such appetites and married her- he would not wish to stifle them. Lest he starve the very thing he loves about her."
He arched a brow, treading more dangerous ground.
"Or perhaps a lady with such appetites is accustomed to sating her hunger outside the bounds of tradition, and seeks no such formality as marriage."
He considered her carefully, "Perhaps there is liberation outside of society's envelopes. Perhaps even joy."
He could scarcely have said anything more scandalous than if he'd cursed at her, despite his delicate choice of language.
The rider was past, and he resumed their walk. Or he would, if she still wanted to be in the company of a scoundrel.
Sarah smiled, "I have no doubt there would be joy but would that joy far outweigh the risk?"
Seeing that the rider had now passed, she wondered for a moment why he hadn't started walking again. Maybe he was waiting for her say something, so she did, "The hotel is just down there. I do hope that it isn't too crowded so that we can continue our conversation."
Feeling the need to clarify her statement, "However, I feel the need to clarify what I just said. While it is true that a liberal and might I say woman who is financially independent might want to satisfy her appetites outside of marriage, the risk is that if the man tires of her and moves onto greener pastures, she may have to pay a price. A man is free to go wherever and do whatever he likes but a woman is tied to social expectations."
@[Cuban Writer]
A good person is like a good gun: Reliable to the Last.
They re-embarked upon their journey after the brief interruption. Roland's brow raised somewhat when Sarah stressed that she was financially independent.
Much like the boundaries of a prairie being marked by a rancher with posts and wire, she was setting the boundaries of her person. It seemed Miss Thornton wanted it clear that she could not be maneuvered by need. Nor would she surrender her security for the mere whimsy of desire.
Roland appreciated someone who knew the bounds of their being. He wished that his understanding of himself rested upon such firm footing.
"I do not think anyone should ever feel pressure to set their foot on any terrain uncomfortable to them," Roland opined, "nor risk a single hair except of their choosing. Courageousness, and the boon of adventure, would have no benefit to a soul except that they should choose it freely for themselves."
He smiled at her as they came to the hotel.
"I am confident that anyone would be honored to be chosen worthy of such risk. I'm equally confident that no one should ever dare think himself deserving or demanding of it, however grand an adventure it would be."
He offered his aid in rising to the boardwalk, "As for tiring... well, with such a clever woman of such fine countenance... that outcome is not within the scope of my imagination."
Proceeding with her into the rather elegant building, he glanced about for the proprietor, host, or hostess who might engage with their new customers.
It's not a question of who's right. It's a question of what's right.
Wednesday nights were the busiest ones during the week for the hotel. Although relatively quiet compared to Friday and Saturday, it was still a good night. For Matt it was a good opportunity to talk to some of the guests and now that he was running for mayor, it was a chance to listen and talk with the voters. He didn't have to worry too much about the hotel itself, as his assistant manager, Kurt Albrecht was doing that. Over the last couple of weeks, Kurt had been learning all about the hotel so that he could run in Matt's absence. The chances of Matt becoming were very high and he needed someone he could trust to look after the hotel and he was glad that Kurt had agreed to do so.
Matt was in the hotel's lobby when Sarah, accompanied by a stranger walked in. For a short time, Matt had contemplated courting Sarah with the intent of maybe marrying her but his feelings for someone else had begun to surface and that was the end of that. Still, he thought of Sarah as a friend and so he was curious to find out who she was with.
Going over to the two of them, Matt nodded at her in acknowledgement, "Good evening, Sarah. It's nice to see you again."
"Thank you," Sarah replied with a smile. Turning to Roland, she said "Mister Smith, may I introduce to you Mister Matthew Wentworth, the owner of this establishment."
@[Cuban Writer]