Caroline now made an appearance, she had heard all about the commotion from some saloon customers though one could seldom rely on their versions of anything especially depending on the amount of alcohol they might have consumed prior. But it was obvious the saloon's negro cook was involved. And supposedly a badly beaten or even shot woman? And........the new owner of the gun shop? Well, this simply had to be checked out.
So quitting the main floor for the time being, Caroline ascended the stairs to the second floor and then to Messalina's room. Sure enough a woman occupied the cook's bed and there was Mr. Smith too.
"Hon, what the fuck is goin' on here? Who is she?" Caroline stepped closer for a good look. Oh geezus! That look reminded the veteran saloon gal of the time back in Helena when one of the saloon girls in the place she had worked had almost been beaten to death. Gal was never the same even though she survived.
"So has anyone thought to go get the damn doctor?"
Finally she had a question for Mr. Smith, "Please tell me you had nothin' ta do with this?"
"Hon, what the fuck is goin' on here? Who is she?" Caroline stepped closer for a good look. Oh geezus! That look reminded the veteran saloon gal of the time back in Helena when one of the saloon girls in the place she had worked had almost been beaten to death. Gal was never the same even though she survived.
"Now Miss Caroline, you mind your language in front of Mister Smith!" the large black lady chided the saloon singer. "He's a gentleman!" she added, mistakenly. "And keep it quiet!" Messalina used her considerable bulk to try and block Caroline's access to the room but she was slippery as an eel. "Miss Zenobia's had a little contretemps with her father about Mr Smith here's marrying her..." Messalina was going along nicely with Roland's rewritten version of history "... and well, someone got shot. And it wasn't either of these two." she said, indicating the supine Miss Matthews and the attentive Mister Smith who, despite his devotion to his fallen 'fiancé' could surely not help hearing this conversation.
"So has anyone thought to go get the damn doctor?"
Messalina didn't like her tone; she felt that Caroline was casting aspersions on her own ability to treat Miss Matthews' wounds with her plantation remedies.
"Oh, Doctor so-called Danforth, I suppose? That's all I ever hear around these parts. Doctor Danforth this, Doctor Danforth that. I just stubbed my toe, better call for Doctor Danforth, I just got a headache, better call for Doctor Danforth. Well, he might be alright for neuralgia and fainting fits, but you tell me how many cases of a poor girl whipped half to death he's ever dealt with!!"
She threw up her hands. "Oh but you just call him if you want, Caroline, you always do what you want anyway!"
Finally she had a question for Mr. Smith, "Please tell me you had nothin' ta do with this?"
@[Cuban Writer]
A good person is like a good gun: Reliable to the Last.
The ladies went back and forth on the matter at hand, and the potential need for a doctor.
For Roland's part, it seemed to him that this big black woman had a good handle on things. He hadn't caught her name in the midst of this, but she seemed energetic, positive, and helpful. Thankfully so, because Zenobia positively needed the aid.
"They taught us a bit of French in school," Roland commented on Caroline's cursing, making the barest stab at humor to lighten the horror of the proceedings at hand.
But soon the time came to explain himself, and weave the next part of the tapestry designed to preserve Zenobia's reputation. And perhaps also his own. If the right seeds were planted now, they might serve her both in the court of public opinion and the court of law.
"Please tell me you had nothin' ta do with this?"
Roland sighed, "I am afraid I have everything to do with it." He tried to imagine what had happened in the Matthews household to result in the old man's violent eruption. Knowing the details would have been useful in guiding his falsehoods. But he couldn't see how Zenobia's father had caught wind of their interludes. He felt sure that Mudd would not have betrayed the truth. Not with knowing what it would cost everyone involved. She was as much a scoundrel as he, but he didn't see her as cruel.
"I wanted to approach her father myself, but she said that it would be better if she did it. She told me he was persnickety, and that she could navigate his moods best. Fool and coward that I am, I went ahead and let her broach the engagement with him. And this is clearly the price of it all. It should have been me."
He'd done some plays in school. He hoped that the experience would serve him well, now. It helped that he was legitimately upset and trembling with emotion. The cause of it all lived under his skin, so he hoped he could successfully put the label he preferred onto it.
@[Javia]
@[Open]
I took an oath for this job. The oath says bring him in. That's what I'll do.
After the initial shock of what was taking place, someone had the notion to go get the law. Since Charlie was the only one at the office, it would be up to him to find out what all the fuss was about. Well, at least it was something like that from what he could make from the fellow who had come to fetch him. The young man's words were all running into each other and Charlie couldn't make sense of what he was saying. All he knew that someone was going to be shot.
Arriving a few minutes after the fatal death, Charlie could see the crowd that had gathered. He could also see the town's undertaker, Mister Jolly already taking measurements and Ray Matthews seated on the ground next to the body. Arabella was there too, trying to do her best to help both Jolly and Ray out.
When he reached the body, he was surprised to see it was Ray's father. The man had been shot twice and when Charlie asked the bystanders what happened, he was peppered with so many stories it was hard to tell what was true and what wasn't. All he knew was that Roland Smith and Zenobia Matthews were involved. Knowing he had to find the two of them to try and work this out, Charlie asked where he could find them. This turned out to be the only thing most of them agreed on.
As he made his way into the saloon, he wished that Marshall Guyer was handling this instead. Unfortunately, the man was still recovering from getting shot about a month ago and the responsibility of the town had fallen upon him. At twenty-one, Charlie knew he still had a lot to learn and was thankful for all the advice he got from Guyer. In morning, after he had assessed the situation, he would have to go and see Guyer to work what to do next.
Inside the saloon, one of the patrons was quick to tell Charlie that what he was looking for was out the back in the kitchen. Once he got there, he could see no-one but he heard noises coming from a small room where the door was slightly ajar.
Not knowing what to expect, Charlie went to the door and knocked.
@[Cuban_Writer] @[Javia] Wayfarer
Not knowing what to expect, Charlie went to the door and knocked.
"You can't go in there!" a female voice sounded behind him. It wasn't one that anybody would associate with the saloon, it was someone who never went in he place because she was a respectable girl, Jemima Wigfall. Not only was her presence in the building unusual, what she was holding in her hands was even more unusual: a pair of lady's underdrawers that had been ripped to shreds to such an extent that they were hardly recognisable as such. They had been Caroline Mundee's best, newly laundered, pair of pantalettes: but Jemima had ripped them up for bandages.
When Charlie noticed them, she quickly bundled them up and hid them behind her back. After all, he might think they were hers.
"Who you looking for, Deputy?" she asked trying to look innocent, but ending up looking furtive instead. The Wigfall girl was usually honest and disarmingly frank. She spoke her mind and told the truth. Subterfuge was not in her usual line.
Then the door opened and Messalina popped her head out "Jemima you got... OH!" Damn. It was the law.
She exchanged glances with the knicker-ripper and then sighed.
"I suppose you better come in Deputy, Lawd knows everybody else has. But if you upset or try the move that poor girl you'll have me to answer to!" she warned. Jemima skedaddled, but even so, there were now enough people in the room, the restlessly sleeping Zenobia, Caroline, Mr Smith, Messalina and now Charlie, to make it feel like the Black Hole of Calcutta.
The large cook had seen Deputy Wentworth at his worst: dead drunk. She had even sometimes had to scrub up his vomit or help carry his inert body out of the place with the other saloon staff. Yet she felt a certain affection, even pride in him: he seemed to have turned a corner. Still, she wouldn't put up with any nonsense from him about her patient
A good person is like a good gun: Reliable to the Last.
Roland looked up as an unfamiliar man walked in.
A man with a badge.
They'd never had occasion to meet under routine circumstances. Never shared a conversation that might have made a good first impression. No... this deputy's first impression of Roland Smith would be this. A scandal and a shooting. It was not a good way to brand yourself into a person's mind.
"Deputy. I'm Roland Smith. I believe you know my fiance' Zenobia. She recently shot a man who had been beating her to death in the street."
There were certain facts he wanted to cement into the psyche of everyone. The details that mattered: Fiance. Being Beaten to Death. Shot the man who'd done it.
Never mind who the man was. Never mind any other details. Those were the facts that mattered. Or at least they'd matter towards keeping Zenobia out of a prison cell.
"I'll quiet up and let you set the pace of the conversation, now. I know you'll have questions for everyone."
He looked on at the fellow and shut his trap, just as he'd promised.
@[Javia]
@[Charlie Wentworth]
@[Open]
"Now Miss Caroline, you mind your language in front of Mister Smith!" the large black lady chided the saloon singer.
"I live here too, I'll say any goddamn thing I want," Caroline knew Messalina had heard her curse virtually every day. Why was she acting so high and mighty about it now?
"He's a gentleman!" the negress added, mistakenly. "And keep it quiet!" Messalina used her considerable bulk to try and block Caroline's access to the room but she was slippery as an eel.
Roland made a little joke about French, Caroline was too fixated on the poor woman lying on the bed to react to it though as she adroitly side-stepped the cook's valiant attempt to keep her out. She then asked a few questions. Messalina got all bent out of shape because she mentioned the doctor. Yes, Messalina knew some good old fashioned natural cures but if that woman had a broken skull or other serious internal injuries a doctor would better be able to cope. Roland also explained what was going on.
"I wanted to approach her father myself, but she said that it would be better if she did it. She told me he was persnickety, and that she could navigate his moods best. Fool and coward that I am, I went ahead and let her broach the engagement with him. And this is clearly the price of it all. It should have been me."
Caroline now had to try and piece this together since things were being left out alright, she was sure of it.
"So her Pa did this and he's the one that's dead now? Well, gotta admit, the man was piece a horse shit," Caroline would obviously not be mourning that fellow's demise.
Jemima was now let into the room with torn up...............wait a minute!
"Hey, were those mine?" Caroline hissed with a roll of her eyes.
A knock came next. what the hell now? It turned out it was Deputy Charlie, former cowpoke, former drunk, and now a law...well man was pushin' it in Caroline's opinion.
She just listened for a bit. But on one point she definitely would back up Messalina. This poor woman was in no shape to be moved to the jail and good ol' Charlie boy better not try it. He'd be no match for two angry women.
I took an oath for this job. The oath says bring him in. That's what I'll do.
Charlie, for his part was still perplexed at what was going here. After hearing a multitude of different stories on what had happened from the crowd near the body outside, he was getting the same inside.
His first surprise (of sorts) was seeing Jemima Wigfall holding up a shredded pair of ladies' drawers and quickly hiding them. Next was the saloon's cook saying something about not moving some girl, who he assumed must be Zenobia Matthews going by who was mentioned by those in the crowd.
When he entered the room he saw Caroline Mundee and the town's new gunsmith, Roland Smith, a man he was aware of but have never actually met. Looking over at the table, he could see someone lying down on it covered by a quilt. Even from where he stood he could see that Zenobia was unrecognisable and definitely in no good condition to be moved. In fact, the way she looked was very unsettling and Charlie felt sorry for her. He had never seen a woman beaten almost to an inch of death and he surmised that it would be a lot worse under that blanket.
"Deputy. I'm Roland Smith. I believe you know my fiance' Zenobia. She recently shot a man who had been beating her to death in the street."
Now this was a surprise and Charlie's face showed it. From the garbled words he had heard outside, he couldn't recall hearing the word fiance. The gunsmith, who had been in town for little over a month (and for a week or two of that he away on some sort of errand) had found the time to court Zenobia, a girl, most men in town called "one mighty miserable human being".
"I'll quiet up and let you set the pace of the conversation, now. I know you'll have questions for everyone."
"You're right, I have questions and from I've seen and heard so far, there are a heck of a lot of answers," Charlie replied.
As he tried to remember what Marshall Guyer had taught him, Charlie knew that he would have to take statements from all those involved, including anybody in the street who saw what went on. It looked like it was going to be a long night. He took out his notepad and began to write down the names of those present in the room.
While he was writing names down, he glanced over at Zenobia and realised that the cook was tending her wounds. He paused and said, "For now I think Miss Matthews should be taken care of and I can talk to you all later. Has anybody sent for Doc Danforth yet?"
Javia Wayfarer @[Cuban Writer]
"Don't write down my name, deputy. I wasn't even out there, I didn't see anything. Though I suppose I could report some vandalism done to my newest pair of bloomers," Caroline sighed.
As for Charlie's inquiry about sending for a doctor....
"I did bring it up but Messalina got all bent outta shape about it," the saloon girl answered, looking at the cook as she did.
"THERE'S SOMEBODY AT THE DOOR!!!"
While he was writing names down, he glanced over at Zenobia and realised that the cook was tending her wounds. He paused and said, "For now I think Miss Matthews should be taken care of and I can talk to you all later."
"You better think that" Mrs McMahon muttered as she looked after the stricken girl. They noticed that Charlie was writing something down on a note tablet. Caroline raised an objection.
"Don't write down my name, deputy. I wasn't even out there, I didn't see anything. Though I suppose I could report some vandalism done to my newest pair of bloomers," Caroline sighed.
Jemima looked annoyed and held the ragged items up.
"They're not that new." the scrub girl retorted; sharply, for her "Not judging by these stains..."
She looked over Charlie's shoulder "Well you can put me down, Mister wentworth: I saw everything..." she watched him scribble. "No, it's Wigfall... Jemima Wigfall. J.E.M.I.M.A.... I'll come back to the jailhouse with you if you like and give you a statement." she offered the handsome learner lawman.
Has anybody sent for Doc Danforth yet?"
"I did bring it up but Messalina got all bent outta shape about it," the saloon girl answered, looking at the cook as she did.
"I'll bend you outta shape in a minute, Caroline Mundee!" the older black lady continued to chunter.
Jemima tapped Charlie on the shoulder again.
"So, do you want me to come down to the Marshall's Office with you, so you can take down my particulars?"