"Every town needs a newspaper."
"Oh Mister McVey, how wonderful to... ow, what a rotten shave you had this morning! Say, you know Mr Cox has reopened the barber shop, you should step in there sometime!" she advised him “But please sit down! I’ve so much to tell you! I’d have bought you lunch but we’ve already eaten and paid, I’m afraid. Oh, do you know my fellow thespian, Mr Astin?”
The handsome young man rose and gave a little bow.
It was not quite the greeting he had expected from the ever-surprizing Miss Mudd, well the crack about his shave notwithstanding. That was vintage Arabella. He smiled, turning to the young fellow and offering his hand.
"A pleasure sir, I've heard good things about you, but Arabella. So good to see you again." He said, unsure if he actually was or not, so he seated himself, "No need to supply lunch, and I am all ears to hear all these things you have to tell me." He was actually unsure what to make of the greeting or the statement, but it would be interesting nonetheless. "I suppose I would have a cup of coffee though, and I'll pay for it." After all, what were a few cents?
"I am anxious to hear these things, so pleas Arabella, do tell me." He said with a genuine smile.
The editor was busy being greeted by the young actress and her companion but he did manage to respond to her inquiry about wanting something to eat or drink.
"I suppose I would have a cup of coffee though, and I'll pay for it," was his request.
"Very well, sir. One coffee then, be right back," Constance nodded then went back into the kitchen to get the pitcher and a cup. Clara was talking with that delivery man from the ranch.
Clara noticed her entry, "Oh, good. Constance, if you can spare a bit of time?"
"I am just getting a cup of coffee is all, the place has pretty much thinned out for now,"Constance answered.
"Capital! Then when you have served that coffee, please get back in here and help this young man with unloading our supplies. If I hear the bell outside, I will go check on it then," Clara directed.
"Yes, ma'am," Constance nodded then spun about to get back out to Mr. McVey.
"Here you are, sir," she set the cup down then poured it to the brim, careful not to get it over the top, "It's quite hot just so you know."
And with that it was right back into the kitchen. Well, she was used to all the steps and bustle by now, a waitress job was not for the slow nor lazy.
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
"I am anxious to hear these things, so please Arabella, do tell me." He said with a genuine smile.
“Well…” the little gamine started a clearly prepared speech “The Excelsior Theatre Company has just returned from an extremely successful tour of the Territory, Mr McVey, it might make a good story for your newspaper. Under the direction of Miss Evelyn Hardy, thirty-one, and starring that seasoned Methuselah of the stage Mister Edward Darling and Mr Astin here, of course, they were able to bring enthralling performances from both teeming metropoles of Montana, to rude mining camps and all points in between. Miss Hardy and Mr Darling brought their usual exquisite…”
Suddenly, the seemingly shy and retiring Mister Astin broke in with some choler grabbing the Editor of the Union by the arm.
“Ignore her, Mister McVey, she’s lying!!”
Arabella gasped “Oh John!! You promised…”
“The fact is, Mr McVey, that none of the rest of us were the great successes of the tour, we were just so much scenery – it was Miss Mudd that stole the show on every single night!!” he declared in an impassioned voice.
“Oh, please John… I promised Miss Hardy that I would say that she…” Arabella pleaded.
“NO!” boomed Astin, in stentorian tones, “… the truth must out, the press must not be sullied with falsehoods, it was Miss Arabella Sumter Mudd who stole the show and won the hearts of the red-blooded men of Montana on the stages of Helena, Butte and Virginia City. Why Mr McVey, did you know that Miss Mudd received THREE proposals of marriage on the tour?”
“Oh please John, you’re embarrassing me!” Arabella pleaded.
Justus smiled and glanced at the baby. "Word is Mrs.Pike's gonna have her baby soon. We're puttin' bets on if it's gonna be a boy or a gal." Realizing how that sounded, he quickly amended, "Just little wagers, nothin' much, just fer fun. I'm bettin' on a gal, just like that pretty one there."
He nodded to the crib, a little fascinated, but more intimidated. The infant was so tiny, and this one wasn't even brand new!
"I'll get those things, Ma'am, an' be right quiet about it."
Justus was accustomed to flinging about bales of hay and bags of feed, so the task was tedious more than anything, but the promise of pie and coffee when he was done made up for it. He had most of the bulky things unloaded when Constance came out it was a good excuse to take a break.
"Miss." Grinning, he nodded. "What manner of pie is there today? Mrs. Lutz makes some real good ones."
Constance had only served McVey his coffee then returned to the kitchen, more specifically the storeroom but it seemed the young man worked fast. Was he finished already? No, a second look and he still had some items in the back of the wagon to unload.
"Miss." Grinning, he nodded. "What manner of pie is there today? Mrs. Lutz makes some real good ones."
"That she does, that she does," she smiled.
"I believe we still have some apple pie and also a few slices remain of the blueberry," she quickly answered.
She then leaned and whispered conspiratorially, "Since you're doing all this work, I bet Miss Lutz won't even charge you for the pie. Or at least I won't....unless she makes me."
"Apple and blueberry?" Justus let out a low whistle of appreciation. "Don't know which is best! 'Specially since my favorite is any! Well, except fer rhubarb, that's kinda..." he frowned, "bitter?" Pulling some smaller boxes from the wagon, he handed them to Constance, then grabbed a couple of larger ones. "'Course, I can't cook but ta boil water, so there's no room ta complain, but," he gave her a quick wink, "I surely do appreciate a good meal set in front of me!"
That was another aspect of working at the Rocking P -- the food was really good, and sometimes Mrs. Pike even made them treats. "Not sure what all this is, but if it helps out here ta make goodies for folks ta try, that's a good thing, right?"
As they passed the crib, he quieted, and didn't start again until they were outside. "Do ya know that little gal that's all gussied up? Th' one with th' pretty tenderfoot...looks like he ain't never seen a cow that wasn't well-done."
"Your favorite is any, huh? Not very picky are you?" Constance smiled.
But she had to agree with him on rhubarb, "Yes, don't much care for it either."
It was back to unloading for him now only this time she could help. She didn't mind in the slightest. He seemed pleasant enough to chat with while they moved the remaining supplies to the storeroom.
"'Course, I can't cook but ta boil water, so there's no room ta complain, but," he gave her a quick wink, "I surely do appreciate a good meal set in front of me!"
"I'm not much of a cook either, grew up in a home where we had a cook so no need. Now Mrs. Lutz has been teaching me some basics though," she replied.
"Sorry I don't think I can provide you with a free meal though unless Mrs. Lutz gives permission, besides she'll have to make it," she pointed out.
"Do ya know that little gal that's all gussied up? Th' one with th' pretty tenderfoot...looks like he ain't never seen a cow that wasn't well-done."
"Just as a first time customer, she said she is...lemme recall...oh, Miss Mudd. She...well both of them are actors. They were just on some big tour performing.
"Mudd? Really?" If this had been the bunkhouse, with just the other men, Justus would have, in the very least, laughed out loud, and he may even come up with some creative quips. But he didn't want to seem rude, although he was having a hard time not snickering!
"She seems pretty...posh, dressed up all fancy like that, an' havin' them airs, but..." he shrugged, not sure he should be engaging in gossip or speculation, "she's in th' theater," he whispered, as such a thing was scandalous for a lady! "Says somthin' about a show in town. An' she give me these."
He pulled the tickets from his pocket, crumpled now. "Not sure if I'll go, don't know when it is, or if I can be in town anyway." He didn't bother mentioning that the girl had wanted him to ask Constance to go with him.
"Every town needs a newspaper."
“The fact is, Mr McVey, that none of the rest of us were the great successes of the tour, we were just so much scenery – it was Miss Mudd that stole the show on every single night!!” he declared in an impassioned voice.
“Oh, please John… I promised Miss Hardy that I would say that she…” Arabella pleaded.
And why did this all sound so familiar? Arabella? The scene stealer? The show stealer? Now, that rang a bell to be sure for the editor. Yes, that was Arabella Mudd alright, but then too, this was not his problem to solve, not at all. This was the director's bailiwick and headache to rectify before he had no cast.
"So Arabella, please do go on. Let me have all the details of the tour, where you went, what you saw, the crowds that came to see your performance." He prodded, though not much of that would be needed if he knew her at all. And this Mister Austin was keen on telling on her for her behavior, but then, Phin was hardly surprised.
"What shows did you do, and will the company be playing here now that you're back in Kalispell?" He asked, notebook and pencil in hand. This would be good.
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
"What shows did you do, and will the company be playing here now that you're back in Kalispell?" He asked, notebook and pencil in hand. This would be good.
“Well…” Arabella wiggled her bustle and got comfy on her seat “… I must tell you, of course, that our Spring programme for the White Rose Theatre, Kalispell, is incredibly SECRET, Mr McVey, for commercial reasons, but that we shall open in a week’s time with a revival of “Our American Cousin” and we sincerely hope that nobody gets shot this time!” she jested, in rather poor taste “Let’s hope that Miss Wigfall doesn’t part Mr Steelgrave’s hair for him again, halfway through the second act…”
Arabella got a little distracted here.
“Oh, and Mister McVey, may I please make it clear that I am not related to that Doctor Samuel Mudd who aided that handsome assassin Mr John Wilkes Booth upon his flight from Ford Theatre after the sad death of the late President Lincon. He was of the Maryland Mudds, not the Virginia Mudds, though his practice was in Northern Virginia at that time…”
Mr Astin kicked her under the table to get her back on track.
“Ahem, oh yes, our recent tour: well, we performed a number of pieces which illustrate our company’s amazing versatility: everything from The Old Curiosity Shop to The Rivals. However, our standout success was our ‘Selections from Shakespeare’ show.”
“Miss Mudd was a big hit with the trappers and the men in the miners’ camps in that.” put in Astin, nudging Phinn “Those fellers hadn’t seen a woman in months, let alone one dressed in next to nothing as the Queen of the Nile”
Arabella nodded primly. “Oh yes, Mr McVey at first I was worried that the men would just stare at my bare feet and legs, but my performance soon turned their minds to higher things!”
She rummaged around in her bag “Look, here’s a hand-tinted daguerreotype of me in my costume” she smiled demurely as she handed him a picture of herself, too scrawny in shape for the tastes of the day, to be sure, but as scandalously attired as could be.
