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    • Emeline nodded silently as the rabbit was pointed out, slowly taking the rifle from Barnabas.  She'd done some hunting, but it had been a while, so she wasn't too sure of her skill, especially with and unfamiliar weapon.  At least they weren't going to starve if she missed.   Bringing the weapon up, she took careful aim, but then muttered, "But Barnabas, he's so cute!  Can't we keep him?"   Then she squeezed the trigger, causing the rabbit to jump.  But as he leapt up and spun, he tumbled back and went limp, falling to the dirt in a motionless heap.   "No pet bunny," Emeline sighed, handing the rifle back.  "Build me a fire and I'll cook you a rabbit!"    @Flip        
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Mature Content: No, at least not on Lucinda's part! I can't speak for Hector, though.

With: Lucinda and the Wigfalls; possibly Aoife?
Location: The Wigfall Boarding House
When: June 19, 1876
Time of Day: Evening, after dusk

 

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Lucinda profusely thanked the gentleman who had lugged her trunk over to the Wigfall's boarding house and gave him a flattering smile in lieu of coins, since she was short on those at the moment. She knocked on the boarding house door and was thankful she couldn't see what her hands looked like. They were probably red and prune-like from washing dishes for Emeline that evening. It had been a while since she had worked for so long at one thing, and she was tired but felt like she had done something worthwhile.

 

She rubbed one thumb over the rest of her fingers and was pleasantly surprised to feel that her fingers were not as shriveled as she had thought. That was fortunate, since she would probably need to do some hand-shaking soon. She hoped that the Wigfalls had a room available for her. What if they didn't? The only thing to do would be to go back to the Lickskillet and see if Emeline would let her spend the night there until she could find something else.

 

She certainly didn't want to spend the night anywhere else. Emeline's talk of guns and bank robberies had made her more wary, and she didn't want to be alone for much longer after dark. But at least she was on the steps of a reputable boarding house right now.

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"HEC-TOOOOOOR!!" Silence "HEC-TOOOOOR! GET THE DOOR!!" Silence.

 

Hector slid further behind The Telegrapher, as if having his face hidden from view officially made him deaf. His mother's voice reverberated through the house. "HECTOR!!!" The following silence signalled a gear change.

 

"JEMIMAAAAAA?! JEMIMAAAAAA?!!" It was impossible to know where exactly Mrs Wigfall was in the house: her voice seemed to resonate from the very walls themselves. The same could be said of the following clomping noise of her daughter's boots as they came bad temperedly down the stairs and up to the front door, which she opened furiously, knowing very well that hector had been closest to it all along.

 

Jemima looked down at the blonde traveller on the steps, complete with luggage, like something nasty had been left on their doorstep. She folded her arms.

 

"You wanna room?" she asked, but before an answer could come a booming voice sounded from someplace behind her: "WHO IS IT?!"

 

Jemima stamped her foot with so much force that it was a miracle it didn't go through the floorboards and span around, shouting up the stairs at the top of her voice "I DON' KNOW YET!!!! with as much anger as volume. 

 

She turned around, still cross armed and as placid (one might almost say inert) looking as she had been a second ago.

 

"We gotta room if you want one." she announced flatly.

Edited by Javia (see edit history)
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Lucinda blinked as the loud voices echoed through the house and out onto the porch where she was standing. Was everything all right inside? It seemed that everyone was very busy inside if this Hector was not available to answer the door.

 

Someone did finally answer the door, but it was a girl who looked at Lucinda like she was a hairball a cat had coughed up. She had never been looked at that way before and swallowed.

 

She flinched slightly as the girl stomped her foot...very, very hard...and yelled back into the house. Well, that was perhaps not the most polite encounter she had ever had. But this was the frontier, she reminded herself. Maybe the girl didn't have manners on most days and being sent to answer the door only exacerbated her lack of manners. When the girl turned back, she was back to being lethargic.

 

Lucinda cleared her throat. "Yes, I would like a room. Emeline at the Lickskillet recommended this establishment to me. Am I speaking to the proprietor?" Oh, dear. The poor girl probably wouldn't know what that meant. "...the owner?" she added belatedly.

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Lucinda cleared her throat. "Yes, I would like a room. Emeline at the Lickskillet recommended this establishment to me."

 

The girl frowned and sniffed "You mean Missus Pike." she corrected Lucinda shortly.

 

"Am I speaking to the proprietor?" Oh, dear. The poor girl probably wouldn't know what that meant. "...the owner?" she added belatedly.

 

"Nope." replied Jemima, marching down the steps and grabbing hold of the traveller's trunk, which she hefted up like it was full of nothing heavier than feathers and carried it into the house with the terse instruction "Come on."

 

Alexander Graham Bell and Thomas Alva Edison had wasted their time inventing telegraphs and telephones, the Wigfalls had already perfected the art of effective communication: it was called loud shouting.

 

"CUSTOMER!!!" shouted Jemima as she re-entered the house, trailed by the sophisticated Mrs Dietrich; Mrs Wigfall was just coming down the stairs. "All right dear, no need to shout!" she admonished the homely and impressively strong girl. 

 

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Mrs Wigfall beamed at Lucinda.

 

"Oh do come in Miss! Do come in, oh my poor dear you must be exhausted from your dusty travels!" came the hearty welcome that she gave to all paying guests.

 

"No she ain't!" countered Jemima "She just come from the Pie Store."

Edited by Javia (see edit history)

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"Yes, yes, Mrs. Pike." Lucinda was frustrated that she had neglected to refer to Emeline properly. What was wrong with her? She was tired, but that was no excuse for losing her manners. She followed Jemima inside, silently marveling at the girl's strength.

 

It was a relief to be inside a place that seemed homey again. She had opened her mouth to respond to Mrs. Wigfall's warm - if formulated and often-repeated - greeting when Jemima interrupted. Well. The girl certainly had some nerve and a distinct lack of propriety.

 

She cleared her throat and addressed Mrs. Wigfall. "I have come from the Lickskillet Café, but prior to that I was traveling." Although she emphasized certain words to make sure her point got across, her tone was even, a direct contrast to the Wigfall's earlier shouting. It was important to her that Mrs. Wigfall knew her circumstances; her true circumstances and not just half of them. And it was important that neither Jemima nor Mrs. Wigfall felt slighted in any way by her words. "And I am rather tired. Your...daughter informed me that you have an available room?"

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She cleared her throat and addressed Mrs. Wigfall. "I have come from the Lickskillet Café, but prior to that I was traveling." 

 

"Really dear? I see." beamed Mrs Wigfall, who wasn't particularly bothered whether the woman had come from the Lickskillet or Timbuctoo as long as she could pay the rent and didn't want to have gentlemen callers. 

 

At the sound of the lady's voice, Hector had finally lowered his copy of The Telegrapher and it didn't go back up again. In fact, the technical journal went flying and he himself leapt to his feet straightening his neck tie-less shirt and trying to make himself look half-decent.

 

"And I am rather tired. Your...daughter informed me that you have an available room?"

 

"Yes" Mrs Wigfall nodded, "Jemima, take the lady's trunk up" but Hector got there first and giving Lucinda a winning smile, chirped "Allow me, Miss, I'm Hector Wigfield. I'm the... hurrggghh!!" he nearly gave himself a hernia trying to lift the trunk. ".... man of the... hurrgghhhh.... house..." he couldn't lift it, so he was dragging it across the floor.

 

"HECTOR!" yelled Mrs Wigfall "Stop being ridiculous, you're ruining the carpet! Let your sister do it, you know she's stronger than you!" There then commenced a scuffle over the trunk, the result of which was a foregone conclusion which left Hector anting on the stairs as Jemima carried the heavy piece of luggage up to the room.

 

The Landlady smiled apologetically at Lucinda "I'm sorry about that, you know how boys are, always trying to show off. Now Miss...or is it Mrs?"

 

@Bailey

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Lucinda smiled at Hector's "showing off" and quirked an eyebrow, impressed once again by Jemima's strength. "A pleasure to meet you, Hector," she called to the nearly-collapsing boy. Hopefully that bit of attention would satisfy him and he wouldn't follow her around like a puppy.

 

"It's Mrs...technically, I suppose. I'm...newly widowed." That was something she didn't remember learning at school. Maybe she had learned it but had just forgotten it. After all, who would have thought that her husband would die so soon into their marriage?

 

She shook her head once as if to clear the gloomy thoughts away and focused on Mrs. Wigfall again. "How far in advance must I pay for my room?"

 

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Lucinda smiled at Hector's "showing off" and quirked an eyebrow, impressed once again by Jemima's strength. "A pleasure to meet you, Hector," she called to the nearly-collapsing boy. Hopefully that bit of attention would satisfy him and he wouldn't follow her around like a puppy.

 

To give him his due, Hector pulled himself together pretty quickly after having been thrust aside like a rag doll by his twin sister. "The pleasure's all mine, Miss'!" he smiled engagingly, while tucking his shirt in.

 

"It's Mrs...technically,..."

 

Hector's face fell. Damn, why were all the beautiful ones snapped up!?

 

"... I suppose. I'm...newly widowed." That was something she didn't remember learning at school. Maybe she had learned it but had just forgotten it. After all, who would have thought that her husband would die so soon into their marriage?

 

The 19 year old's face lit up again at this good news, then he remembered to dampen it down again: you shouldn't really be grinning like a Cheshire cat on hearing somebody had been recently been widowed. Still... yippeee! 

 

"I am so sorry to hear that, Mam'" he simpered, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on her arm which Mrs Wigfall immediately slapped away. "Hector, what have I told you about touching the guests?!" she told him off "Go to the kitchen and put the kettle on!" Off he trotted, after one last sympathetic and warmly understanding smile at the new peach in the orchard.

 

She shook her head once as if to clear the gloomy thoughts away and focused on Mrs. Wigfall again. "How far in advance must I pay for my room?"

 

"Come and sit down, my dear, and we can take care of all that unpleasant business. I only make Irish and foreigners pay in advance, you can pay in arrears. Now how long would you like to stay for, and will it be full board or just bed and breakfast?" she enquired in a kindly but business-like manner as she led the lady into the parlour.

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Lucinda had not expected Hector to be so engaging...or so touchy. She was startled when he touched her arm and moved sideways slightly, but Mrs. Wigfall came to the rescue and sent the boy - he was closer to a man, really - to put the kettle on.

 

She followed Mrs. Wigfall into the parlor and sank gratefully down into a chair. It felt wonderful to take a load off her feet. That wasn't a very proper expression, but it did the trick. She wiggled her toes in her boots and listened to Mrs. Wigfall. "Fortunately I am neither Irish nor foreign," she said with a small smile. She supposed she might be foreign, very distantly - after all, both her English ancestors the German-descended family she had married into hand been foreigners once. She took a moment to think over her plans and the options Mrs. Wigfall had given her.

 

Finally she looked up, searching the older woman's face to see how shrewd she might be. "I am unsure how long I will need to stay. I do plan to stay in Kalispell for a time - a month, at least - but I am not sure if another living situation will present itself. Shall we say full board for the time being and then we can amend our agreement if need be after the first month?"

 

That was a graceful way of not committing to a long stay, and of offering the landlady a sweetening of full board.

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"Fortunately I am neither Irish nor foreign," she said with a small smile. 

 

Mrs Wigfall nodded, that was indeed fortunate, for both of them. She had a small confession to make: "We do have one Irish girl saying, Hector had more or less invited her in, so I had to take her. I'd taken the sign down to clean the inside windows..." Mrs Wigfall was obsessed with cleanliness "... but she had turned out to be a good, clean girl: she is a nurse over at Dr. Danforth's and pays her rent on time." came the glowing tribute to Aiofe. It was an unfortunate side effect that she now couldn't really put the "No Irish" sign back up in the window.

 

Finally she looked up, searching the older woman's face to see how shrewd she might be. "I am unsure how long I will need to stay. I do plan to stay in Kalispell for a time - a month, at least - but I am not sure if another living situation will present itself. Shall we say full board for the time being and then we can amend our agreement if need be after the first month?"

 

"Very good, as long as you give me good notice if circumstances change." replied Mrs Wigfall as they went on to fix rates and the date of payment. 

 

Hector reappeared with a tea tray but before he had a chance to smarm around the pretty new inhabitant of the boarding house, his mother sent him to fetch the guest-book. "What name shall I enter?" asked Mrs Wigfall.

 

 

 

Edited by Javia (see edit history)
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"Well, I'm sure all of them aren't as bad as they're made out to be." Lucinda was prepared to give the Irish nurse a chance, but her voice was dubious. There were some Irish families who had made good names for themselves back east, but they were few and far between. Most of them had reputations as drunks and brawlers. But Mrs. Wigfall obviously knew that already.

 

The landlady seemed like she would be amenable, as long as Lucinda gave her advance notice of any changes to the rooming situation. "Of course. I should be glad to do that."

 

"Lucinda Dietrich." She leaned forward to watch as the woman wrote her name down and then looked at the tea tray. "Might I pour you some tea, Mrs. Wigfall?"

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"Lucinda Dietrich." She leaned forward to watch as the woman wrote her name down and then looked at the tea tray. "Might I pour you some tea, Mrs. Wigfall?"

 

Mrs Wigfall had shoved the completed guest-book in Hector's direction, but he had unceremoniously dumped it on the antimacassar and bustled in to take over the tea pouring duties.

 

"Please allow me, Mrs Dietrich, after all, you are our guest, even if you're a paying guest!" he beamed. "And may I say, how very brave of you to come to a new town and make a new start so soon after your sad loss. You must please, please tell me if there is ever anything I can do to help. Even for a very beautiful young widow it must... yow!!" 

 

Mrs. Wigfall had reached for a toasting fork and shoved it in his backside.

 

"Hector! Stop drooling in Mrs Dietrich's tea cup and go to work! She'll have to deal with enough mashers like you outside of here, don't add to her troubles when she's at home!" Hector tramped off, rubbing the affected area and Mrs Wigfall shook her head.

 

"I don't know what to do with him, Mrs Dietrich, girl mad he is! Oh, I've tried all the usual remedies: bromide in his cocoa, cold showers, bible readings, nothing seems to work."

 

@Bailey

Edited by Javia (see edit history)

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Lucinda was rather amused at Hector's behavior until his mother told him to stop drooling in her tea, which was enough to give anyone pause. It was figurative language, of course, but it was not pleasant to think about.

 

Was Hector really figuratively drooling over her? He had seemed so polite. Maybe his politeness was meant to...well...woo her? Ugh. He was...well, maybe not that much younger than her, but she had been married before and he obviously had not.

 

She tried not to make a disgusted face as Mrs. Wigfall listed the many cures she had tried for Hector's "condition," but couldn't help tightening her lips slightly as she sipped from her teacup and set it down. "I'm sure it is just a phase. He has no father to help you with his...troubles?"

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She tried not to make a disgusted face as Mrs. Wigfall listed the many cures she had tried for Hector's "condition," but couldn't help tightening her lips slightly as she sipped from her teacup and set it down. "I'm sure it is just a phase. He has no father to help you with his...troubles?"

 

"His Father?!" queried Mrs Wigfall, somewhat dizzily, before recovering herself "Oh, you mean my husband!" she smiled wafting a hand breezily to a monochrome Daguerreotype on the mantle that showed a slight, bald, snub-nosed bespectacled man who looked nothing like either of the two dark haired children.

 

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"I might as well be a widow like yourself Mrs Dietrich for all I see of him: he works day and night at that telegraph office and sneaks home at night after I'm asleep and hides himself in a spare bedroom. You'd think he was scared of us all! I've had to bring those two children up virtually alone!" she informed her guest.

 

"Not that I miss him particularly, I mean, it's not as if we..." but then the door opened and Jemima clomped in.  "Case's in your room, Missus." she informed Lucinda and looked around like a cat who thinks there might be a mouse in the room. "Where's Hector?" she asked suspiciously.

 

"Oh, I've sent him off to work, he was bothering Mrs Dietrich here."  explained Ma Wigfall.

 

Jemima sniffed and nodded. "Yeah, he'll do that. He's a dirty little rascal." she boomed in her deep, flat contralto voice. "You should start making him wear that thing again, Ma! Where is it?" she declared, referring perhaps to some god-forsaken surgical device of the type then in vogue at the time to prevent uninvited and unwanted, ahem, physiological reactions to the fairer sex.

 

"Oh do be quiet, you're just as bad with boys!" admonished the mother, before turning back to the shabby-genteel seeming Lucinda. But Jemima got in first. "You looking for work, Missus?" she asked Mrs Dietrich, point blank.

 

@Bailey

 

Edited by Javia (see edit history)

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Lucinda had been about to make a polite comment about how handsome Mrs. Wigfall's husband was, but that was before she saw the daguerreotype. After she saw it, she decided it would be better not to say anything at all. And it turned out she didn't need to, thanks to Jemima's return.

 

"Thank you, Jemima," she said after the girl let her know that her trunk was up in her room. The stocky girl was so...so...mannish. She was almost worse than Hector, who was actually not uncouth, just very...boyish. The way Jemima talked about her brother was most demeaning. Whatever did she mean by "that thing?" It certainly couldn't be anything that should be talked about in polite society.

 

She was taken aback by Jemima's question. It wasn't proper to discuss work at a time like this, and certainly not if it was referred to as "work." More properly, it should be "a situation." She glanced at Mrs. Wigfall and answered, "Why...ah...yes, Jemima, I am looking for 'work.' But I have been promised a place at the Lickskillet by Emeline...I mean Mrs. Pike...if I'm unable to find anything else."

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She was taken aback by Jemima's question. It wasn't proper to discuss work at a time like this, and certainly not if it was referred to as "work." More properly, it should be "a situation." She glanced at Mrs. Wigfall and answered, "Why...ah...yes, Jemima, I am looking for 'work.' But I have been promised a place at the Lickskillet by Emeline...I mean Mrs. Pike...if I'm unable to find anything else."

 

Jemima sniffed, working a few different jobs, she had a good idea about the pros and cons of different employment situations. "Yeah, that oughta be all right: you'll get good tips and all you want to eat while you're working there but, all the same, make sure she pays you the going rate. Downside is you'll be sweating like a horse by the end of the day in the heat from the kitchen and you'll have to be polite to some of the pigs you'll have to wait on, some folks like to go to places like that just to treat the waitress like dirt."

 

She stood back and folded her arms as she took Lucinda in properly.

 

"Hmmm, and no offence, Missus, but you look kinda fancy to me. You might wanna dowdy down a mite before you go to work there: folks won't give you big tips if they think you're rich. I'd spread it around that you've had a tragedy and you're down on your luck, that'll get those tips rolling in." said Jemima, kindly offering the new guest her expert advice. 

 

Mrs Wigfall held out her hand to Jemima's "Such a good hardworking girl, Mrs Dietrich, I don't know what I shall do without her when some fine handsome young fellow comes along and sweeps her off her feet!" 

 

Jemima snatched her hand back with a curt "Get off, Mother!"

 

@Bailey

Edited by Javia (see edit history)

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Had Mrs. Wigfall not taught her children any manners? Young women of Jemima's age ought to know better than to use words like sweat. And sweating like a horse was even worse! Lucinda tried to keep from wrinkling her nose in distaste and tried not to show how unsettling Jemima's words were. Were there really people like that, who would go to a diner just to be unpleasant to the people who worked there?

 

"Thank you, Jemima. I suppose widowhood doesn't count as a tragedy?" she asked with a glint of humor in her eyes. "I don't intend to 'dowdy down' at all, however. I would hope that tips would be based on the quality of my service, not the quality...or lack of quality...of my clothing." There was nothing wrong with her clothes, in her eyes. In fact, she felt dowdy in the clothes she had brought out west with her. They were nothing like what she would have worn back home.

 

She watched the interaction between mother and daughter curiously. It was strange how...normal Mrs. Wigfall seemed and how...abnormal Jemima was. Hector was slightly abnormal, but maybe that was because she hadn't been around young men in a while.

 

After Jemima's outburst, she finished her tea and rose from her chair, then cleared her throat to gently interrupt. "Mrs. Wigfall, are there any rules here I should be aware of? Do you have a curfew for your boarders?"

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"Thank you, Jemima. I suppose widowhood doesn't count as a tragedy?" she asked with a glint of humor in her eyes.

 

Jemima tipped her head. Her smile was so horrible that she did this instead to show what little amusement she found in the world. "Widders and orphans are ten a penny in these parts. And half the widders shot their husbands, and half the orphans worried their parents to death, so no." she replied.

 

Mrs Wigfall took out a hanky and dabbed her eyes "Well, the second part might be true!" she declared.  

 

"I don't intend to 'dowdy down' at all, however. I would hope that tips would be based on the quality of my service, not the quality...or lack of quality...of my clothing." There was nothing wrong with her clothes, in her eyes. In fact, she felt dowdy in the clothes she had brought out west with her. They were nothing like what she would have worn back home.

 

Jemima shook her head slowly and sniffed. "I like you, Missus, you're optimistic. I wish I was." she said, wondering how the fine lady would get on during Granny Miggins' or some other ornery ratbag's next visit to the diner. She'd like to be a fly on the wall on that day.

 

After Jemima's outburst, she finished her tea and rose from her chair, then cleared her throat to gently interrupt. "Mrs. Wigfall, are there any rules here I should be aware of? Do you have a curfew for your boarders?"

 

Mrs Wigfall rose, too, of course. She had manners and, indeed, had once considered herself a lady, as well: before a passionate love affair and an unwanted teenage pregnancy had put paid to that self-delusion. Still, one could still observe the niceties.

 

"For unmarried girls yes, but not for a respectable widow-lady like yourself, of course. We make an exception for Miss Leane, because she works as a nurse and needs to be out at all hours. I only ask that you inform me if you are expecting a gentleman caller, it helps me to keep away pests."

 

"Except Hector." muttered Jemima.

 

"Ahem!" Mrs Wigfall tried to drown her daughter out with a polite cough.

 

"I will give you a key. This one is for your room, this one for the front door." she said, handing over the sacred objects. "Breakfast is at seven."

 

@Bailey

Edited by Javia (see edit history)
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It was just as she had suspected: widowhood out here was not a tragedy but a normality. And maybe that made it all the more tragic. If this wild land was so deadly to the men, what chance did the women have in it? Her thoughts were much less optimistic than the ones she had voiced to Jemima previously. And speaking of Jemima...

 

Lucinda smiled again. "Thank you, Jemima." She wasn't sure if being called optimistic in this case was a compliment, but it never hurt to be polite.

 

She politely ignored Jemima's aside about Hector and listened to Mrs. Wigfall's house rules, of which it sounded like there were few...for her, anyway. She took the keys from her new landlady and slipped them into her handbag. "Thank you, Mrs. Wigfall. I doubt that I will be receiving any gentleman callers, but I shall be sure to inform you if I do."

 

She moved toward the door. "I hope you both have a pleasant evening. I am going back to the Lickskillet to help out Mrs. Pike, but I will not be out too extremely late. Please give my regards to Hector. I'm sorry he was unable to stay with us." She smiled again and put her hand on the door handle.

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She politely ignored Jemima's aside about Hector and listened to Mrs. Wigfall's house rules, of which it sounded like there were few...for her, anyway. She took the keys from her new landlady and slipped them into her handbag. "Thank you, Mrs. Wigfall. I doubt that I will be receiving any gentleman callers, but I shall be sure to inform you if I do."

 

 

"Oh, you'll be surprised, Mrs Dietrich" Mrs Wigfall laughed. "... a handsome young woman such as yourself: the men around here will be dancing around you like moths round a flame, believe you me! I'll wager the Lick Skillet's custom will go up tenfold in the next week, if I know the men around here!" she joked, rather daringly. Jemima just winced: another rival for the hearts of all the handsome single men in town!

 

"Of course, if that does happen and you want to know anything about any particular gentleman, you just come and ask me!" her new landlady advised. "I can tell you which are the gents and which are the rapscallions!" 

 

"Yeah, like Richard Orr!" spat Jemima suddenly, dodging her mother's hand as it tried to grab her.

 

"Jemima Wigfall, you take that back! Your Uncle Dick has always been more that kind to you!" Mrs W. chided. "He's NOT my Uncle!" Jemima fumed, looking at Lucinda. It just made her mad, listening to that hussy talk about 'gentleman' like that: her mother didn't even know what a 'lady' was.

 

"Oh, children!" sighed Mrs Wigfall, standing along with Lucinda.

 

She moved toward the door. "I hope you both have a pleasant evening. I am going back to the Lickskillet to help out Mrs. Pike, but I will not be out too extremely late. Please give my regards to Hector. I'm sorry he was unable to stay with us." She smiled again and put her hand on the door handle.

 

"Huh!" grunted Jemima at the last comment, but then as Lucinda exited, turned and reminded her "Don't take less than 50 cents an hour, plus tips and eat all you can while you're there." She'd decided Mrs Dietrich was all right, despite being too beautiful.

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Lucinda laughed at Mrs. Wigfall's optimism about her chances of gentlemen callers, her cheeks flushing slightly. "I would welcome any input you have about any men in town," she said graciously. Or at least that was what she started to say. She had gotten as far as "I would welcome" when Jemima lost her temper.

 

She winced and waited with her hand on the door during another mother-daughter altercation. How many of those did they have in a day? Finally the spat was over and she felt that she could leave without being rude. She left, calling behind her, "Thank you, Jemima!" to the teenager's advice. How many times had she thanked Jemima in the past ten minutes? Too many to count. Hopefully the advice was good.

 

She headed back for the Lickskillet, the keys to her room and the Wigfall boarding house adding a welcome weight and security to the little bag at her wrist. Now she had a place to stay.

 

OOC: Finis?

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Oui, nous avons terminé, pour l'instant.

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Pretty cool, eh? I wonder what it means.

 

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About Sagas

Sagas of the WIld West is a roleplaying game set in a fictionalized version of the town of Kalispell in Montana territory. Our stories begin in 1875 and are set against the backdrop of actual historical events.Sagas was inspired by the classic television and movie westerns. Our focus is on writing, storytelling and character development.

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Founders: Stormwolfe & Longshot

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