Soon enough the wagon was unloaded, and Justus pulled off his gloves and tossed them on the seat. "Thanks fer th' help." He smiled and gave Constance a nod, allowing how she'd pitched in and pulled her share without shirking. Not every lady was willing to do that sort of work, and he admired that.
"I'd like that pie now, if it ain't no problem, and some coffee, too. I can take it out here." He didn't mind having to sit on the tail of the wagon, where it would be quieter, but he'd go inside if she insisted. "If I knew when that show was, I'd see 'bout gettin' th' time ta come ta town an' go. Sounds kinda fun. An' I got them two tickets..."
He just couldn't quite ask her, he didn't know her well enough, and he wasn't sure what 'date protocol' might be, if this even would be considered a date, which he didn't want because he wasn't ready, but he'd be happy just to go with her, since he had the two tickets...
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
"Ah, well, that might be Missus Redmond, yes, it could be." He stammered. "You did know that Aurelian married Lucinda Deitrch recently, right?"
Arabella’s newly acquired and thin veneer of gentility cracked at this and she made the sort of noise a cat does, just before it throws up a furball on the front room carpet.
“Don’t I know it! Ugh! Men are such fools… he could have had Jemima Wigfall!” she declared.
"But dear Arabella, it is on rare occasion that I darken the door of Pastor Evans's' church. No sense in tempting fate, or a lightning strike." He sort of shook his head.
She shook her head, not in admonishment, but in pity. “You should really take more care of your soul, Mr McVey, especially with you being in a business that involves breaking the Ninth Commandment every fifth line of news-type!”
She smiled and patted his hand again, she always was the touchy-feely type “Well, at least I keep you in my prayers, Mr McVey – specially on an opening night. Oh, you will come to our shows this season and write some nice glowing reviews about me won’t you? I’ll fix up free tickets for you and… well, any special lady you might wish to bring along” she beamed.
"You know it seems either Elias or Cases Steelgraves' men attacked the Redmond farm not long ago, not sure you were still in town at the time, but they burned his barn and shot up the place. The Redmonds did manage to kill one of the desperados. Or so I was told."
Arabella shrugged. “Oh well, boys will be boys! This whole tame ‘range war’ business makes me laugh – now, when I was a girl…” (she was all of 17 now) “… back in the Old Dominion, feuds really were feuds!”
"Every town needs a newspaper."
"You know I might be convinced to attend, I mean opening night just might bring out the whole town. Entertainment is so hard to come by out here that I am sure that Kalispell will welcome your productions with open arms and open purses." He said with a knowing smile. Folks surely would turn out for the event. It would be fun, entertaining, and allow them all to see everyone else.
"Yes, I'm afraid that this range war threat is simply that. A threat. The Lost Lake Ranch is a natural fortress, so attacking it head on is simply a fool's errand." He agreed. "Though I believe that there could still be trouble between the two, not that I would leave Case Steelgrave out of the mix, but then again we will see the return of cattle rustling."
Then he smiled again "As to the God shop, and my soul, thank you for your concern, but when I might find myself in need of a Skypilot, Evan's would certainly be the man for the job. I would most deffinately call on him in that event."
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
Arabella was highly gratified with Mr McVey's confirmation that the Range War was nothing to get one's bloomers in a twist about, and that he would come along to what was bound to be a great opening night for the new theatrical season.
And Our American Cousin was a contemporary play, so there would be no scandalous wearing of 'Authentic Ancient Costumes' or theatrical tights.
But as for religion, she had to disagree with his assessment.
Then he smiled again "As to the God shop, and my soul, thank you for your concern, but when I might find myself in need of a Skypilot, Evans would certainly be the man for the job. I would most definitely call on him in that event."
"What's a skypilot?!" she asked, wrinkling up her nose in confusion.
Astin, quiet but listening, had chuckled a little at that and explained "Like a pilot ship that leads the big ships into harbour. A preacher leads his flock into the port of Heaven."
"Ohhhh!" cooed Arabella "I like that, that's a nice si-mi-lee" she pronounced the relatively new word in her vocabulary with care.
"But I'm afraid... oh, I do hate to say it... I'm afraid Reverend Evans is, well, a little dull. I try to enliven proceedings a little..." yes, they'd all heard Arabella playing accompanying music to the Reverend's sermons, whether he wanted it or not, and her random shouts of 'Testify, brother Luke! Testify!!' at unexpected and often inappropriate moments "... but it isn't like the charismatic preachers and... oooooh that feeling of the living spirit of The Lord moving amongst you like we used to get at those old time Southern Camp Meetings..."
She looked wistful.
"You're a Southerner, Mr McVey, you know what I mean!" she assured him.
He thanked her for her help, Constance nodding, "It was easy enough and a break from waiting on tables." Not that she minded waiting on tables, so far the job was decent enough. Besides, she was in Kalispell for the long run more than likely. It would be a cold day in hell when her father would invite her back. And about that....she would respond with a definitive 'NO'. The only people she missed in her family were her two younger sisters.
"I'd like that pie now, if it ain't no problem, and some coffee, too. I can take it out here," he now requested.
"Certainly. Are you that noisy an eater you're afraid you'd wake the baby?" she kidded.
"If I knew when that show was, I'd see 'bout gettin' th' time ta come ta town an' go. Sounds kinda fun. An' I got them two tickets..."
"Well, like I said, once the theatre reopens now that the troupe is back from their tour, then they'll advertise with newspaper ads, bills around town, and that signboard I talked about," Constance wondered if he'd forgotten what she'd said earlier.
"And the theatre is fun, it's easy entertainment, one sits and listens and watches. I like a good comedy or a Shakespearian tragedy too. I went a lot back home," she related her own experiences.
"And yes, you have two tickets for one of you. Most young men ask out a lady but I suppose you could show up with one of your ranch hands in a pinch," she then gave a theatre-worthy shrug of her shoulders.
"Get enough of them ol' smelly cowhands at work," Justus chuckled, "I surely wouldn't want ta spend time here with them none." He wasn't sure who of the other hands would be interested in the theater, anyway. "Nah, would just give th' ticket to a nice gal instead...but she'd have ta sit with me, I reckon."
Well, he wasn't sure on that, chances were good you could sit wherever you wanted to, but he was hedging. "I mean, if you wanted to..." He dug out the tickets again and held one out to her. "You can have one, if ya like...but ya might hafta sit with me...I'd clean up, of course!"
He didn't want her to think he'd be in his grubby work clothes! "One thing, though...ya'd hafta tell me when it is...I don't much get inta town, ya see...an' I can't read noways."
May as well let her know that part.
"Nah, would just give th' ticket to a nice gal instead...but she'd have ta sit with me, I reckon," Justus now figured aloud.
Least that was progress thought Constance, "That's usually how it's done you know."
"I mean, if you wanted to..." He dug out the tickets again and held one out to her. "You can have one, if ya like...but ya might hafta sit with me...I'd clean up, of course!"
Finally! Constance smiled as she took the offered ticket.
"Thank you, I'd like," she declared, "I'll sit with you...of course."
"One thing, though...ya'd hafta tell me when it is...I don't much get inta town, ya see...an' I can't read noways."
Ahhhhhh, there it was! He couldn't read, part of his reluctance about finding out performance dates and such was now explained.
"You don't? Well, I can do that then. I will make it my charge to find out everything about when the new season starts, what play is on, the times - anything we need to know," she assured him, it would be easy anyhow.
However......
"One fly in the ointment though, getting out to your ranch. I do not know how to ride a horse and obviously it follows I do not own one either."
She was still confident they could come up with a work around for that issue though.
"You don't? Well, I can do that then. I will make it my charge to find out everything about when the new season starts, what play is on, the times - anything we need to know," she assured him, it would be easy anyhow.
Well, at least she hadn't teased him about not being able to read. A lot of cowboys didn't anyway, they started ranch work at a young age, and school was an afterthought. Besides, there was no writing on cows, and a cowboy could read the land and the cattle and horses...the things that were important to cowboying.
"That'd be right helpful."
"One fly in the ointment though, getting out to your ranch. I do not know how to ride a horse and obviously it follows I do not own one either."
"Oh, well, there's always someone comin' inta town one time'er another? Might even send word back with Miz Pike, I don't think she'd mind." After all, carrying a note didn't take any effort. "She ain't gettin' ta town as much, she's due ta have her baby any day now."
He shrugged. "I come inta town on days I don't have ta work, I could check here then. Could show ya some'a ridin', if you've a mind. Can ya drive a team?"
Riding a horse was one thing, but most folks could at least handle the lines of a buggy or buckboard, just out of necessity.
"Oh, well, there's always someone comin' inta town one time'er another? Might even send word back with Miz Pike, I don't think she'd mind." After all, carrying a note didn't take any effort. "She ain't gettin' ta town as much, she's due ta have her baby any day now."
"Sure, that makes sense," Constance nodded. She knew there'd be a work around.
"Clara men...I mean Mrs. Lutz mentioned that too. I wish her the best," she added.
He shrugged. "I come inta town on days I don't have ta work, I could check here then. Could show ya some'a ridin', if you've a mind. Can ya drive a team?"
Constance blinked wide-eyed and she did have big eyes.
"Riding? Umm..." she decided to tackle the second question first.
"This is probably embarrassing but...no, I cannot. You see back home, I lived in a fancy mansion. My father had a carriage and a driver. And in town, you could hail a buggy and get a ride long as you had money to pay for one. So drive one, my father would have been shocked at that."
Was she scaring him off with all this rich person talk?
"Don't take that wrong, I am not rich anymore. Those days are gone. It's why I work here. But I still have zero experience with horses."
"Every town needs a newspaper."
"What's a skypilot?!" she asked, wrinkling up her nose in confusion.
Astin, quiet but listening, had chuckled a little at that and explained "Like a pilot ship that leads the big ships into harbour. A preacher leads his flock into the port of Heaven."
'Right as the mail Astin. That is exactly what the term refers to." Phin agreed, "I believe that the term originated with the mountain men, as they saw preachers as guides. But your use of the plot ship is just as worthy."
"Ohhhh!" cooed Arabella "I like that, that's a nice si-mi-lee" she pronounced the relatively new word in her vocabulary with care.
Phin snickered at her response wanting to say something but refrained
"But I'm afraid... oh, I do hate to say it... I'm afraid Reverend Evans is, well, a little dull. I try to enliven proceedings a little..." yes, they'd all heard Arabella playing accompanying music to the Reverend's sermons, whether he wanted it or not, and her random shouts of 'Testify, brother Luke! Testify!!' at unexpected and often inappropriate moments "... but it isn't like the charismatic preachers and... oooooh that feeling of the living spirit of The Lord moving amongst you like we used to get at those old time Southern Camp Meetings..."
"So I have heard that he is not much for the fire and brimstone approach to church services, but then the services are not the camp meetings of yore, though I can say, the camp meetings are alive and well, just not here in Kalispell." Was the explanation he offered.
She looked wistful.
"You're a Southerner, Mr McVey, you know what I mean!" she assured him.
"I am, and I do. In fact, I had the honor of serving in the Third Virginia Cavalry, and then the Army of Tennessee under General Nathan Bedford Forrest, and followed him in his commands as Forrest's Cavalry Corps." Phin stated proudly. "Now Forrest had him several fire and brimstone preachers with his commands over time. Men who preached as well as fought. It was a time, I'll tell you that."
It was seldom that Phin would discuss his time during the War of Northern Aggression. It was a time many Americans wished to forget. Not that he was not proud to have served because he was, very proud of his service.