After finishing her morning chores, Kate took Beaut out for a ride. She's been up the meadow path towards the mountains, back through the forest and to the inlet, and is now taking her time going around the lake. Both horse and rider look tired, but happy for all that.
Kate notices Mary when she's not more than a few yards off, and gives a polite nod.
Does she look like a blacksmith? She's female for one thing. It's likely that she hasn't made the connection between the question and Kitty's curling iron.
"No. No not at all. I don't work anywhere."
Something crosses Mary's face that might almost be wry resignation.
The sequence of emotions passing across her face gives Kate pause. She pulls Beaut to a full stop, using the kerchief at her neck to dab sweat from her skin.
Mary is a bit perplexed by the amusement, but explains on gamely.
"Well, so far as I've been able to ascertain, the person ultimately responsible is the Landlord. Whom no one ever seems to see, but it is he who is the master of this place, therefore it must be he who has abducted me."
She's had a lot of time to think about this, hiding away in her room upstairs.
"But no one I've talked to seems to have any idea as to the purpose. All I know is that I walked into the drawing room at home, but that tavern was there instead. And I can't get back."
Kate nods along, and is even able to school her expression into one of sympathy instead.
"I thought I was walkin' into my schoolroom the first time I ended up here. I was burdened from waist t'chin with books, an' nearly came clean outta my skin when I saw where I was."
She carefully dismounts, and while she's gathering Beaut's reins into one hand Mary will get a clear look at her attire. Cowboy hat at her back, boots on her feet, and guns at her waist. She smiles gently when she turns back around.
Mary rather presents the appearance of a young woman trying to make sense of a plethora of conflicting signals.
A schoolroom. Then this woman is a governess, or at least a teacher. That indicates a level of respectability, even if she is a woman who has to work out for a living.
The attire? That says something else, even if Mary can't quite decide what it says.
She shakes herself a bit, remembering her manners, and looking the woman in the face again.
"No. No, my door has disappeared. I'm told it might reappear."
There's no hint of uncertainty in Kate's voice. She isn't just trying to soothe the other woman's worry, either; in her experience, these things always turn up again.
She tugs off her leather riding gloves, which affords her a moment to decide how she should proceed. The girl is obviously cultured, well-mannered, and from a time closer to hers than most others around the bar. She decides on a shallow curtsy.
"Forgive me - my name is Miss Katherine Barlow, of Texas. Though, you're welcome t'address me simply as Kate. It sounds like you've already had the welcome speech, though I know it's a lot t'take in."
The lack of propriety was quite a shock to Kate's system when she was new to the bar. It has taken a number of years to dull her to manners of 'modern' folk.
"It's nice t'meet you, Miss Mary. You're quite right, I'm from the new world's frontier. It's eighteen-eighty-eight outside my door, but I'd venture t'guess it's an earlier time where you hail from. England, of course?"
Kate's daddy was from Lancashire, and when she's among polite society her Southern drawl softens into a vaguely Mancunian lilt.
The question pulls her up short. It takes a few seconds for her to connect the dots, and realize how Mary came upon that conclusion.
"I was, yes. A schoolteacher in my old town for several years, and then again in a neighboring town for a few months. Unfortunately, I haven't taught for several years now."
She hesitates.
"I help manage the stables in these parts, nowadays. Miss Bar puts my wages toward my tab here."
Kate notices Mary when she's not more than a few yards off, and gives a polite nod.
"Hello, Miss."
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Mary bobs a polite curtsy in return.
"Good day," she replies.
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"D'you work at the forge?" she asks carefully, casting a curious glance on the tongs.
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Does she look like a blacksmith? She's female for one thing. It's likely that she hasn't made the connection between the question and Kitty's curling iron.
"No. No not at all. I don't work anywhere."
Something crosses Mary's face that might almost be wry resignation.
"I'm an abducted personage."
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"Gracious me. Abducted from where, precisely?"
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"From my own drawing room, no less."
She's still quite indignant over the whole matter.
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Realization dawns on her.
"Oh. Abducted by the bar."
Please forgive the burgeoning smile on her lips, as she tries to contain her amusement.
"You were not taken by any one person, I hope?"
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"Well, so far as I've been able to ascertain, the person ultimately responsible is the Landlord. Whom no one ever seems to see, but it is he who is the master of this place, therefore it must be he who has abducted me."
She's had a lot of time to think about this, hiding away in her room upstairs.
"But no one I've talked to seems to have any idea as to the purpose. All I know is that I walked into the drawing room at home, but that tavern was there instead. And I can't get back."
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"I thought I was walkin' into my schoolroom the first time I ended up here. I was burdened from waist t'chin with books, an' nearly came clean outta my skin when I saw where I was."
She carefully dismounts, and while she's gathering Beaut's reins into one hand Mary will get a clear look at her attire. Cowboy hat at her back, boots on her feet, and guns at her waist. She smiles gently when she turns back around.
"The door y'came in isn't there no more?"
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A schoolroom. Then this woman is a governess, or at least a teacher. That indicates a level of respectability, even if she is a woman who has to work out for a living.
The attire? That says something else, even if Mary can't quite decide what it says.
She shakes herself a bit, remembering her manners, and looking the woman in the face again.
"No. No, my door has disappeared. I'm told it might reappear."
"Someday."
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There's no hint of uncertainty in Kate's voice. She isn't just trying to soothe the other woman's worry, either; in her experience, these things always turn up again.
She tugs off her leather riding gloves, which affords her a moment to decide how she should proceed. The girl is obviously cultured, well-mannered, and from a time closer to hers than most others around the bar. She decides on a shallow curtsy.
"Forgive me - my name is Miss Katherine Barlow, of Texas. Though, you're welcome t'address me simply as Kate. It sounds like you've already had the welcome speech, though I know it's a lot t'take in."
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It's so confusing, trying to keep other times unknotted in one's head.
She hesitates only a moment before she adds, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Barlow." There's a much longer hesitation. "Kate," she adds.
It's not the thing at home, for one to be on such familiar terms so quickly. But that's rather the whole point. This isn't home.
And Miss Barlow, for all her odd dress, seems nice enough.
"Mary," she adds, after a moment. "I'm Mary."
"And yes. People have been quite eager to explain things, it seems.
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"It's nice t'meet you, Miss Mary. You're quite right, I'm from the new world's frontier. It's eighteen-eighty-eight outside my door, but I'd venture t'guess it's an earlier time where you hail from. England, of course?"
Kate's daddy was from Lancashire, and when she's among polite society her Southern drawl softens into a vaguely Mancunian lilt.
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A place Mary is missing to a surprising degree. Of course, she's never really been properly away from home before.
"And you're a teacher, you say?"
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"I was, yes. A schoolteacher in my old town for several years, and then again in a neighboring town for a few months. Unfortunately, I haven't taught for several years now."
She hesitates.
"I help manage the stables in these parts, nowadays. Miss Bar puts my wages toward my tab here."
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An unusual occupation, she's about to say. But then what about Milliways isn't unusual?
"Do you live here?" Mary asks.
If one works here for wages, it might suggest so.
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