[Mattie feels the ground give way under her feet, panic closing off her throat as she begins to fall, scrabbling uselessly at dirt and brush
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Mattie is beginning to wonder how it is that so many can see her, when she can find neither door nor window to this place. It's disconcerting, all these voices suddenly offering advice, but at least it is advice.
"I do not know what you are talking about, but I do know enough to understand what trouble is. And finding yourself locked in a strange room surrounded by strange voices is trouble."
"If you mean foreigners, I have certainly met more than one. Even in Yell County."
Really, it's a bit insulting to imagine that she's never come across an Indian or an Irishman before taking the train to Fort Smith, which isn't precisely New York itself.
That's just about the craziest thing Mattie has ever heard, and her annoyance shows on her face. Fantasies about people from the stars are for folks with time for idleness in their lives.
"I have no use for fairytales or for people who use them for mocking strangers. You had best start using more truth in your words, and I think you should start with your name."
"Well. I suppose it is a bit much to expect a prisoner to be able to produce his jailers upon request." Mattie's slowly thawing (being called 'Miss' helps that along a great deal), and it shows in the way she relaxes her posture a little, and allows a more curious and less suspicious expression onto her face. "Have you been here very long, Mr. Salvatore?"
"Of course. Then I suppose you ought to call me just Mattie."
Half a year? She considers the possibility now that she may have to put off knowing what has happened to her friends -- and to that damnable mongrel Tom Chaney -- a while longer. The idea doesn't sit well. "I am sure it not impossible, and I do not mind applying myself to hard labor to find my way home. I have been days now in Indian Territory, and often worked hard at home as well. I will manage."
And with Mr. Draper now insisting rather than offering to meet her at the door, Mattie figures she has the situation as well in hand as anyone might. "You have been helpful, I am grateful for the assistance. And...for the company, such as it is, while I am finding my bearings."
"I have engaged the services of Mr. Don Draper in that regard," Mattie replies, as if it had been all her idea instead of him telling her to wait by the door until he could get there. "But I believe he does it grudgingly and will try to hand me over to some matron like as not."
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"I do not know what you are talking about, but I do know enough to understand what trouble is. And finding yourself locked in a strange room surrounded by strange voices is trouble."
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Really, it's a bit insulting to imagine that she's never come across an Indian or an Irishman before taking the train to Fort Smith, which isn't precisely New York itself.
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"I have no use for fairytales or for people who use them for mocking strangers. You had best start using more truth in your words, and I think you should start with your name."
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Although she isn't consciously aware of it, the more familiar speech patterns are helping as well.
"My name is Mattie Ross. If you expect me to believe your story, then prove it. Where are these men from the stars?"
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Half a year? She considers the possibility now that she may have to put off knowing what has happened to her friends -- and to that damnable mongrel Tom Chaney -- a while longer. The idea doesn't sit well. "I am sure it not impossible, and I do not mind applying myself to hard labor to find my way home. I have been days now in Indian Territory, and often worked hard at home as well. I will manage."
And with Mr. Draper now insisting rather than offering to meet her at the door, Mattie figures she has the situation as well in hand as anyone might. "You have been helpful, I am grateful for the assistance. And...for the company, such as it is, while I am finding my bearings."
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This, Mattie is determined, will not happen.
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