" ... - - - ... "
Miss Mudd's next visit to the Lickskillet had been a whirlwind of black crepe and questions: had 'that slow poke' asked her to the theatre yet? Yes? Good!; did Miss Stroud know the date of the opening night? Well, it had been decided upon; did Miss Stroud know the name of the play? Why, here was the programme, all nicely printed up, care of Mister McVey's printing press; Could she let the Slow Poke know? No?! Oh, Arabella would fix that - just be ready to go after Church on Sunday afternoon! Then whoosh, she was gone!
Luckily, the person who was to convey Constance out to see her Theatre Date, and give him the good news, was respectable enough to be entrusted with Joseph Straub's out-of-town niece, for the late Mrs Straub had been a friend of Mrs Mary Wigfall, mother of Constance's cicerone, and Uncle Joe knew Hector to be a sensible lad, in stark contrast to sister.
If he could be trusted with the town's secrets via the Western Union Telegraph, he could be trusted with his niece. Surely.
So it was on that crisp March afternoon that Heck knocked on the nicely painted house door, wondering if old man Straub or this niece Arabella had told him about would answer.
It was Constance who opened the door, she already had a coat on and a hat too. She took in the lad then wondered if she should invite him in? No, that made no sense, they were just going to leave promptly anyhow. She settled for a nod of acknowledgement and a smile.
"Hello, I take it you are Hector Wigfall?"
"I should come right out and thank you for being kind enough to give me a ride out to the Pike ranch," she already forgot the fancier name for it. It seemed all these cattle ranches went by various names - family then something more decorative?
She stepped out, closing the door behind her. Then it hit her.
"Oh, excuse me, I am Miss Straub."
" ... - - - ... "
"Hello, I take it you are Hector Wigfall?"
"Yes Mam, you take it right!" he smiled. Not a bad looker, he decided. He mentally undressed her, as was his wont, being a young man who really felt his oats. Yep, plenty to get hold of there. To be fair, he mentally undressed most women he saw, sometimes, like with Granny Miggins, to his regret. It was a bad habit, along with many others, that he needed to shake... one day.
"I should come right out and thank you for being kind enough to give me a ride out to the Pike ranch," she already forgot the fancier name for it. It seemed all these cattle ranches went by various names - family then something more decorative?
Hector knew that the new place was officially called 'The Rocking P', which was also the cattle brand that pokes like Justus were busy right now scorching onto the hides of the new stock out there, but most folks still referred to it to 'the Pike Place'. That said, whenever Hector saw Mrs Pike he always, after first mentally undressing her, of course, pregnant or not, asked her 'How're things getting along at the Rockin' P, Mam?' He knew she'd like that.
She stepped out, closing the door behind her. Then it hit her. "Oh, excuse me, I am Miss Straub."
"Yeah, that's all right Miss Straub, Arabella told me." he smiled, friendly enough.
"You all right getting on up there?" he asked holding out a hand to steady hers as she clambered aboard the little rig. He was temped to grab her backside and push her up a little at the same time, but stayed his hand. She had a nice big rump, too. He liked that. Miss Straub's was nice and big and grabbable, but all the other girls in town seemed to have skinny little asses. Even Miriam, whom he loved best of all. But Miriam was water under the bridge, he needed to move on.
He came round the other side of the little buggy and hopped on squishing up close to Constance with a shy smile.
"Oh, I'm sorry. These little buggies... I'm afraid you'll have to put up with me squashed against you, Miss Straub." he apologised hypocritically, enjoying the feel of her thigh, under about 20 petticoats, of course, pressed against his.
He gee'd up the pony and it started to pull them along the street and in less than two minutes they were out of the little town.
"Arabella tells me you gotta see a feller works at the ranch." he said as they trundled along the not so-great dirt road that led across the country to the Pike's place, making conversation. "It's not Mike Wentworth is it?" That was the only name he knew that worked there - Mike's 'defection' to the new place from Lost Lake being the talk of the town.
@Wayfarer
"Yeah, that's all right Miss Straub, Arabella told me." he smiled, friendly enough.
"Oh very well. Miss Mudd is very nice. And generous, she provided me with free tickets to the theatre," Constance remarked. Little odd, but nice.
"You all right getting on up there?" he asked holding out a hand to steady hers as she clambered aboard the little rig.
"Yes, I'm fine, thank you," she made it up without issue.
He came round the other side of the little buggy and hopped on squishing up close to Constance with a shy smile.
She realized it was close quarters so thought nothing of it.
"Oh, I'm sorry. These little buggies... I'm afraid you'll have to put up with me squashed against you, Miss Straub."
"That will not be an issue, don't worry about it," she dismissed it with a smile, he was too nervous about everything, poor young man.
"I'm not made of crystal glass," she assured the young man, settling in for the ride.
"Arabella tells me you gotta see a feller works at the ranch." he said as they trundled along the not so-great dirt road that led across the country to the Pike's place, making conversation. "It's not Mike Wentworth is it?"
"I do but no, never heard of any Mike Wentworth. Is he a friend of yours? Or relative?"
" ... - - - ... "
"I'm not made of crystal glass," she assured the young man, settling in for the ride.
No, he could well believe that; he imagined she was nice and soft and squishable, especially in some places more than others.
"Arabella tells me you gotta see a feller works at the ranch." he said as they trundled along the not so-great dirt road that led across the country to the Pike's place, making conversation. "It's not Mike Wentworth is it?"
"I do but no, never heard of any Mike Wentworth. Is he a friend of yours? Or relative?"
"Nah, just some feller. One of the Wentworths, they're kinda a big noise around here, the Pa owns the Bank and a lot of the sons work at Lost Lake Ranch, 'cept for the youngest, Charlie, he's the Deputy Marshall. He's a little, er... what's the word?... oh I don't know, Arabella's kinda friends with him for some reason, though. Then again, she likes lost causes. Must be the 'Secesh' in her. And she idolises Mike Wentworth, he saved her life once when she was buried under a collapsed house. I'd never say a word against 'Saint Mike' while she's within ear-shot" he laughed.
He looked sideways at the girl.
"She's pretty keen on you, too. Oh, not that you're a 'lost cause'." he quickly added "Quite the opposite. When she ordered me to bring you out here today she said "Now Hector Wigfall, I want you to take this nice young lady out to the Pikes' to see her young gentleman..." (Arabella had much improved her elocution and diction under Miss Hardy and Mr Darling's tutelage, but she still spoke with an extremely strong Virginia accent, and Hector could take her off to a tee) He carried on with his impersonation. "... and no monkey business, Miss Stroud is a lady. I can't think why she's working at that smelly old diner. A very beautiful young lady of quality, and believe me, it takes a piece o' white trash like me to know a real lady when she sees one!"
Constance made a silent note about the Wentworths, important folks in town, OK, good to know. Then he mentioned Charlie? Yes, Charlie the deputy, she hadn't even recalled his last name. While she neither knew a thing about this Mike nor cared to, Charlie had been a nice enough fellow. Maybe a bit in over his head when it came to being a lawman, she put it down to his youth not a lack of competence though.
"Well, I'd hardly say he is a lost cause, seems a bit harsh," she frowned.
"She's pretty keen on you, too. Oh, not that you're a 'lost cause'." he quickly added.
"Well, I most certainly hope I am not," Constance raised one eyebrow, though her father probably would second that assertion. Hector went on though, not at a loss with words this one.
"... and no monkey business, Miss Stroud is a lady. I can't think why she's working at that smelly old diner. A very beautiful young lady of quality, and believe me, it takes a piece o' white trash like me to know a real lady when she sees one!"
"Wait! Smelly diner. If she thinks the smells of freshly baked bread and pies or a sizzling steak or any of our fine soups are anything but wonderful, well I don't know what to say," Constance found herself defending her place of work she suddenly realized.
"I am glad she thinks so highly of me at least, nice of her. But she is being rather hard on herself. She is a lady, who has made herself a fine career. Granted one that many folk do not think highly of....but I say more power to her."
Her father would lump any theatre people in one category: low life. One of his favorite descriptions of most people who were not rich and even some who are, if they got their money the wrong way.
She had to smile at Hector, "Monkey business huh? Well, you don't strike me as someone who would engage in monkey business. You seem quite the gentleman."
" ... - - - ... "
"Well, I'd hardly say he is a lost cause, seems a bit harsh," she frowned.
Hector shrugged. “Feller with his advantages? Someone told me he was at Yale or Harvard or some fancy place and then just threw it all up to come out here and… well, do what? Laze around with a tin badge on? If I had those advantages, oh boy. You know what, I save up a couple of dollars every month to do a correspondence course in applied sciences, you know mathematics, engineering, that sort of thing… things beyond what they can teach you at a little town school. And I read, oh boy do I read. I’m trying to improve myself. Arabella’s the same, that’s what I admire about her, for all her peculiarities. She’s dragged herself up from nothing.” he’d gotten a little serious there for a moment.
They talked a little bit about Miss Mudd, and one part of his impersonation of the said little actress certainly grabbed Miss Stroud’s attention.
"Wait! Smelly diner. If she thinks the smells of freshly baked bread and pies or a sizzling steak or any of our fine soups are anything but wonderful, well I don't know what to say,"
Hector laughed out loud “Well, she said it not me!” He looked at Constance admiringly “That was pretty good, you know, you should write the advertising copy for the Lick Skillet!” he suggested.
"I am glad she thinks so highly of me at least, nice of her. But she is being rather hard on herself. She is a lady, who has made herself a fine career. Granted one that many folk do not think highly of....but I say more power to her."
“Well, beats cleaning out spittoons in the saloon and embalming dead folks in the funeral parlour, which is what she did before.” He looked thoughtful for a second “Yeah, I like her.” he smiled and glanced at Constance “… but even she wouldn’t claim to be a lady, by any stretch of the word.”
She had to smile at Hector, "Monkey business huh? Well, you don't strike me as someone who would engage in monkey business. You seem quite the gentleman."
Again, Hector let out a genuine laugh.
“Well, I’m about as much a gentleman as our Arabella’s a lady, I guess. You sure do like to give people the benefit of the doubt, Miss Stroud. But as for monkey business, well according to Mr Darwin over in England, we’ve all got a little bit of monkey in us yet, just the newly evolved civilized parts of our brains keep our inner primitive ape-man – or ape woman - in check.” He seemed to like his science stuff, this one.
He glanced at her in her civilised clothing and hair done up nice, so corseted and constrained by modern mores.
“Don’t you ever feel like dressing up in animal skins and going out to hunt a mammoth, Miss Stroud?” he asked. She was already undressed in his head, so he popped a few furs on her, and some wild bushy hair and armed her with a spear – she looked pretty attractive as a cave woman! All this was giving him primitive urges himself. He needed to change the subject!
"Charlie went to Harvard or Yale? I had no idea. Perhaps university life did not appeal to him?" Constance shrugged. She honestly had barely known the young deputy. He'd been quite helpful to her that first meeting. And then, nothing more came of it.
Hector did a bit of revelation about himself then. He sounded ambitious, nothing wrong with that. In fact her father would find that a most admirable trait. She only commented on his reading habits.
"Always good to be a reader. Of course it depends upon the books. Good for you though."
She also believed him to be a gentleman and told him so.
“Well, I’m about as much a gentleman as our Arabella’s a lady, I guess. You sure do like to give people the benefit of the doubt, Miss Stroud. But as for monkey business, well according to Mr Darwin over in England, we’ve all got a little bit of monkey in us yet, just the newly evolved civilized parts of our brains keep our inner primitive ape-man – or ape woman - in check.”
"Monkeys? Nonsense," Constance had heard of Darwin but certainly never bothered to read anything of his. What she had heard about the man's views, seemed rather ridiculous.
“Don’t you ever feel like dressing up in animal skins and going out to hunt a mammoth, Miss Stroud?” he now asked.
What the ???
"I certainly have not. A mammoth...that was a prehistoric elephant, right? That is a rather...odd question, Mr. Wigfall," she looked at him a bit dubiously.
" ... - - - ... "
"I certainly have not. A mammoth...that was a prehistoric elephant, right? That is a rather...odd question, Mr. Wigfall," she looked at him a bit dubiously.
He shook his head with the certainty of one who knows he is right.
“Maybe so Miss Stroud, but you’ve got to ask questions, that’s the only way science and engineering can progress. And the odder the question the better. ‘Why does the moon change shape?’ ‘Why are trees green?’ or just every day stuff…” he searched his mind for some quick examples “ …why do women curtsey on the dance floor and men bow?” he glanced at her nicely, if heavily dressed, form “… why do women get to wear nice dresses and men have to wear dull suits? Sure, they’re all odd questions – but when you come to answer them, well, you realise that you sort of know nothing about the world you're living in or how it works. We’re all just sleepwalking around, doing the same old things by habit. We need to think, we need to wake up!”
He actually took a breath at last and grinned sheepishly at her.
“Sorry, I don’t usually rattle on like that, honest. Anyway, enough about me, how about you? What sort of books do you like to read? Not Smith and Jessop’s Textbook of Wireless Telegraphy, 2nd expanded edition, I guess. Or stories about cavemen and cavewomen and Mammoths.”
The young man launched into quite a spirited defense, not necessarily of his odd question, but asking questions in general.Constance listened but if he expected her to really get his point..or points, she did not.
"Well, I've got nothing against people asking questions, of course," she assured Hector.
"I guess I probably just do better when conversations are about...what is real as opposed to the 'what if'," she declared.
"Although I wish you the best of luck finding answers to all you ask," she added, not wanting to sound argumentative.
“Sorry, I don’t usually rattle on like that, honest. Anyway, enough about me, how about you? What sort of books do you like to read? Not Smith and Jessop’s Textbook of Wireless Telegraphy, 2nd expanded edition, I guess. Or stories about cavemen and cavewomen and Mammoths.”
"No, none of those," she smiled.
''I do like novels, fiction mostly. The classics of course, oh, and dime novels. Let me think...oh, I've read All for Love of a Fair Face, A Charity Girl, and recently, The Unseen Bridegroom. Romances all if you are unfamiliar."