The maid was seen hurrying past, and then reappeared, carrying a stack of papers, off to another part of the house.
And then the sharply-speaking woman swept into the parlor.
"Well, hello," she said, and came towards Scott as he got to his feet. "I'm Katherine Burch. You must be-Seth?"
"It's Scott, ma'm."
"Yes, of course," the woman said, waving a hand. "Scott Lancer. I'm just hopeless at remembering names."
She was a good-looking woman, Scott had to admit that. She was tall, for a woman, and her hair was a deep brown. Her
clothing was expensive, he knew that. He hadn't lived in Boston and been around women there for all those years without
learning a thing or two about women's fashions. Katherine was surveying him with interest, though a socially acceptable
interest. No blatant staring.
She put out her hand to Scott, and they shook hands. "Have you been waiting long?" she asked then. Then, without waiting for
an answer, she went on, "It's so difficult to get away from my charity meetings. You understand," she said, in a voice that
plainly said that she knew that he would, indeed, be understanding.
Scott nodded, in what he hoped was a polite way. He didn't understand. Not at all. When her niece was arriving home,
he felt that her place should have been here at the home.
"You didn't feel that you had to wait with Charlotte, did you?" she asked then.
"I wanted to wait with her," Scott said simply. "I wanted to meet you, as well."
"I see," Katherine said, her eyes taking him in. "Did the maid offer you refreshments?" she asked then, releasing Scott's hand.
"She did," Scott affirmed.
He waited, but there was no greeting between Katherine or Charlie. He cast a glance down at Charlie, and saw that she
had a mutinous expression on her face, and had not moved from her seat on the sofa. She was still holding the book of Ivanhoe.
When the moments passed by without either of them acknowledging the other one, Scott thought it was bordering on ridiculousness, and
finally Katherine spoke, "Well, Charlotte, you're back home again."
"Did you notice I was gone?" Charlie asked, giving the woman a challenging gaze.
Scott was appalled, both at the interaction between them, or lack of it, and the way that Charlie had responded.
There was a tinkling laugh from Katherine, a society laugh, as Scott thought of it. False.
"Oh, I noticed," she said. "You did a better job of it this time."
"Not good enough," Charlie said darkly.
Scott couldn't help it, he had to react. "Charlie," he said, low and quiet. Charlie looked up at him, and he raised an
eyebrow at her. Charlie flushed a little and looked away again.
"This child," Katherine looked to Scott, "I swear that she delights in making my life uncomfortable." Again, with the tinkling
laugh.
When Scott didn't respond to that, she added, "I'm sure she caused you a bit of trouble, as well?"
Without looking at her, Scott knew that Charlie's gaze would be on him, waiting to hear what he said about her.
"Charlie was no trouble," he said, with certainty. "My family and I enjoyed having her stay with us."
Katherine looked surprised for a moment, and then recovered. "Well, isn't that nice," she said. "And she insists on that horrible
nickname. I tell her that I absolutely will not call her that. Charlie is a boy's name."
She sat down in a chair nearby, and waved Scott back to his seating position. "Sit down, Mr. Lancer."
She rang a silver bell on the table next to the chair, and the maid, Abby, appeared within moments, as Scott took his seat.
"I'd like a cup of tea, Abby," she said, and then looked to Scott. "Would you care for something?"
"A cup of coffee would be welcome," Scott said, putting his arm around the back of the couch again, his hand lightly brushing
Charlie's hair.
"Black? Or with sugars?" she asked. "Or cream?"
"Just black is fine," Scott said.
"My tea, Abby, and a cup of black coffee for Mr. Lancer," Katherine said, and the maid nodded, and hustled away.
"You live near to-Green Valley, is it?" Katherine inquired.
"Green River," Scott corrected.
"Green River. And what is it you do there?"
"I have a ranch. With my father and my brother," Scott said.
"How interesting. You raise cattle?"
"We do," Scott said.
"I'm sure that's an interesting sort of life," Katherine said. "Very rustic and earthy."
"We like it," Scott said mildly, well aware of what she was implying.
Katherine gave Scott a scrutinizing look, and Scott knew that she was trying to determine if he was a dirt-poor
rancher, or someone of means. He decided to let her ponder that.
"Will you be staying to dinner with us, Mr. Lancer?" Katherine inquired of him, as the maid brought the tea and coffee.
Scott, who hadn't planned on doing anything of the sort, was stopped short of politely declining, by Charlie's
voice, with her sitting up straight and looking at him. "Will you? Please, Scott?"
Her voice was pleading, but her eyes were desperate, and Scott found himself nodding while he looked
into those brown eyes. Then he turned to Katherine. "If you're certain it's alright, then yes, I will. Thank you."
"I regret that after we have our dinner, I'll need to be on my way again. I've plans for the evening," Katherine said.
Scott had to set his mind to keeping his mouth shut. When what he wanted to do was to ask the woman what
in the world she was thinking, leaving a little girl all alone when she'd just been returned home.
He decided if he couldn't say just what he thought, he could make certain she understand something else.
"I see," he said. "Well, I would like to talk with you for a bit, so if you could make time for that, I'd appreciate it."
His tone was cordial, but also with a sense of decisiveness, and he could tell that Katherine was aware of that by the
way that she surveyed him.
"Well, of course," she said. She got to her feet, and Scott stood up as well. "I'll go and let the cook know that we're to
have a guest for dinner. Excuse me a few moments."
She left the room, and Charlie sighed. It was plainly a sigh of relief.
"That's Katherine," she said. "She's one of those 'characters' that Johnny was talking about, I think."
Scott sat back against the couch again, looking at the little girl, and wondering if he should scold her. He was, himself,
by no means impressed with the infamous Aunt Katherine, though he was trying to keep his mind open, and not be judgemental.
"When you talk to her, is that when you're going to tell her that I get to come and visit you?" Charlie asked him.
"I'm not going to tell her, Charlie. I'm going to ask her," Scott corrected.
"Alright. Ask her. Is that what you're going to talk about?" Charlie asked.
"That's part of it," Scott said.
"What else?" she asked, sounding curious.
Scott gave Charlie a steady look. "You know how I told you the other day, that some things are adult business? Well,
my conversation with your aunt is one of those things."
"Oh," Charlie said, and subsided somewhat.
In a few minutes, Katherine was back, and Scott stood up again as she entered the room.
"Dinner will be ready very soon. Would this be a satisfactory time for us to have that conversation, Mr. Lancer?"
"That's fine," Scott said.
"Alright," she said, and sat back onto the edge of the chair that she'd vacated a few minutes earlier. She folded her hands
and waited, looking at Scott.
Scott turned to Charlie, as he sat back down as well. "Charlie, you need to excuse yourself," he told her.
"Okay," Charlie said, and got up obediently. "Excuse me, I'm going to change my clothes," she said, and made her way
to the door.
"You may put on another dress," Katherine called after her. There was no answering reply from Charlie, and Katherine
sighed heavily. "She'll come back down in the most God-awful clothing, I'm sure." Then she said, "I must admit that
I'm curious about something. Charlotte would normally refuse to leave a room that way, especially if she thought
that the upcoming conversation was going to be about herself. How in the world did you manage to get her to do that?"
For a moment, Scott was struck speechless. The woman couldn't be serious. Could she? But yes, it appeared that she
was indeed serious in her question.
"As a child, being directed to do something by an adult, that's fairly standard behavior, I believe," Scott said.
"Perhaps for you," she said, with that tinkly laugh. "Charlotte doesn't listen to much of anything that I have to say, I'm afraid."
Scott wondered how direct he should be, in his own opinions.
"Charlie's a wonderful little girl," Scott said, slowly, choosing his words. "My family and I really enjoyed having her
stay with us."
"How is it that the two of you met?" Katherine asked.
"She was on the train, coming thru Green River, and she got into a bit of trouble, and that's where she got off the train at. I happened
to be nearby," Scott explained.
"Well, it was very kind of you to take her in the way that you did. She's a puzzlement to me, I'm afraid. I've never seen a child
so determined to live outside the lines of society," she said.
Scott waited for her to ask what sort of 'trouble' it was that Charlie had gotten into, but she didn't. She merely smiled at him,
and waited for him to continue talking.
"She was accused of stealing a man's wallet," Scott said.
"I'm not surprised by that," Katherine said.
Scott felt his ire begin to rise. "She hadn't. Stolen anything, I mean," he clarified.
"Well. That's certainly good to hear," Katherine said.
"Charlie says that she's done this before. Left your home for a period of time, ran away."
"That is the truth, unfortunate as it may be," Katherine said.
"Why do you think that is?" Scott asked.
"Excuse me?" Katherine asked.
"Why do you believe that she does that? Runs away?" Scott asked.
"I'm sure that I don't know," Katherine said, sniffing. "The child has everything that she could possibly want at
her fingertips. She lacks for nothing."
Scott picked up his coffee from the table before him, closing his hands around the long-cold cup. He wanted to say so
many things, as in what Charlie was lacking was attention, nurturing, direction, discipline. But he didn't trust himself
to say it all at that point. He decided to go with the easier portion of the conversation.
"As I said, my family all became very fond of Charlie," Scott said. "We'd like her to come to Lancer, for visits
occasionally. If that's alright with you?"
"Well, of course," Katherine said, and Scott saw the look of relief on her face before she masked it. "That would
be fine. I'm certain she'd enjoy it."
So Charlie had been right, Scott thought wryly. Her aunt would be glad to get her "out of her hair".
"In two weeks would be an appropriate time for a visit," Katherine went on. "I'll have some friends staying here
with me, and Charlotte would find it all very dull, and be at loose ends, I'm sure. Would that time work for you?"
Scott, who hadn't expected it to be quite so easy, said, "That'll be fine. Our schedule's flexible."
"Well, it's all settled then," Katherine said, looking satisfied. "I'll send you a wire when Charlotte will be arriving in
Green River."
"I don't think that it's the best idea for her to travel alone," Scott said, trying to be tactful. "There's so many things
that could happen."
Katherine looked at him, a bright spot of color on each of her cheeks. "She's very resourceful. And independent," she defended.
"Yes, ma'm, she is resourceful," Scott said, in apparent agreement. "And independent. But she's also just a little girl. There
can sometimes be some rough people on the stage rides. And the trains."
"My schedule doesn't always allow me to disregard my committee meetings," Katherine said. "I couldn't be assured that
it would be convenient for me to travel to Green River-"
"If you send a wire, I'll come and accompany Charlie back to our home. Or if I couldn't, my father will," Scott said.
"Alright," Katherine said, and looked relieved again. "That would be fine."
And, on that note, the conversation was ended. Scott thought that there was so much that he wanted to ask, and to
suggest, but he decided to bide his time. Maybe, when he'd talked it over with Murdoch, he'd know more what he could have, or should
have said, and follow that the next time that he had a conversation with the woman across from him.
Katherine stood up, and Scott did as well. "Shall we go into dinner?" she said.
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There was absolutely nothing wrong with the food that was served by yet another maid, this one older, but dressed in the
same sort of starched white uniform. It was a meal of fine food, rich food, the sort of food that Scott had been accustomed to
eating in Boston. He found, though, that after his time at Lancer, eating simpler food, and Maria's Spanish dishes, that he no longer
had the same enjoyment for the heavy food.
The first sign for Scott that things at the meal were going to be heavy, other than the food, was when Charlie came down
the stairs, dressed in Teresa's overalls, and her cowboy boots.
They were preparing to walk into the dining room, and Katherine, spotting her for the first time, came to a halt.
"What in the world are you wearing?" she asked, sounding horrified.
"Clothes, I believe," Charlie said, and sailed on into the dining room ahead of her aunt, and Scott.
"Charlotte, I've asked you repeatedly not to wear boy's clothing, especially at the dinner table," Katherine went on, following
Charlie.
Charlie sat down in one of the chairs at the table. "I'm not," she said. "These aren't boys clothes." She shot Scott
a triumphant look. "Right, Scott?"
Before Scott could answer, and head off the oncoming skirmish, Charlie went on, "They belonged to my friend, Teresa. She used
to wear them when she was my age, and she gave them to me. So they're not boy's clothes."
Katherine looked genuinely flabbergasted, and gave Scott a look, before she laughed that tinkly laugh again.
"I will never understand this child," she said to Scott. "She has a closet full of beautiful clothing, and she prefers
to dress like some sort of-farmer, or something."
"There's nothing wrong with farmers," Charlie said. "If it weren't for them, and the ranchers, you wouldn't have
beef and vegetables to feed all those friends of yours at your fancy dinner parties."
Scott restrained himself, and looked to Katherine, waiting for her to correct Charlie's sassiness, but Katherine only shrugged,
and said, "I told you, she delights in stirring me up," to Scott.
Scott held Katherine's chair as she sat down, all while he was trying to catch Charlie's eye, but she wasn't looking at
him.
"Thank you, Mr. Lancer," Katherine said, and regarded him with new interest. "Sit here beside me," she told him,
and Scott sat down.
"Those are the sort of clothing that are appropriate to wear at our home," Scott said, by way of explanation. "We're outside
a lot, and kids can get real dirty, so it's best if they have some chore clothes to wear."
"I see," Katherine said, and Charlie sighed a heavy sigh, as if Katherine was a burden that she had to bear.
For a time, after that, as the food was passed around the table, Katherine was genial and charming, drawing Scott into
conversation, asking questions about Lancer, and about Murdoch and Johnny.
"It sounds as though you have a profitable ranch," she surmised.
"We're doing alright," Scott said modestly. "Most of the credit goes to my father. It's his hard work that got it
where it is today. My brother and I are latecomers to the world of ranching."
"You didn't grow up there?" Katherine asked.
"No. I was raised in Boston," Scott said.
"I thought there was something about you," Katherine said, "Something that goes beyond being just a simple rancher.
You've obviously been raised around culture."
"You make it sound like it's a disease, or something," Charlie spoke up from her seat across the table. "There's nothing wrong with
being a simple rancher."
"I didn't say that there was, Charlotte," Katherine said, at the same moment as Scott said,
"Charlie, that's enough."
Charlie widened her eyes, at both her aunt and at Scott. After that, she subsided, and was quiet, seeming to sulk.
She showed no signs of her normally monumental appetite. She again, as she had earlier at the restaurant, pushed
her food around, looking petulant and sullen.
Scott found that it was taking all his restraint not to discipline her, right there at the table, in front of the aunt,
who obviously had neither the interest or the ability to make Charlie behave.
"Would you like dessert, Mr. Lancer?" Katherine asked him, as they finished their meal.
"No, thank you."
Katherine rose to her feet, and Scott stood up as well. "I apologize, but I really do have plans this evening. I need
to go upstairs and dress." She put out her hand to Scott, and they shook hands again. "I'll send you a wire, then, in two weeks time,
as we discussed?"
"That's fine. Thank you for the meal," Scott said.
"It was my pleasure," Katherine said, and paused to give Charlie a glance. "I'll see you at breakfast, Charlotte."
Charlie poked at her vegetables with her fork, and didn't answer. Katherine shrugged lightly, looking at Scott,
as if to say 'oh, well', and walked out of the room.
"Charlie," Scott said sternly, and when she looked up at him, he said, "Stand up, and go and answer your aunt properly."
Charlie blinked at him. "What?" she asked.
"Stand up," Scott repeated, "and go after your aunt, and answer her."
"You mean about-seeing me at breakfast?" Charlie asked, looking startled.
"Yes. About that. Go on."
Charlie stood up quick enough, and watched Scott warily, as she walked out into the foyer. Scott followed close
enough so that he could hear.
"Katherine," Charlie said, as her aunt was midway up the stairs.
Katherine turned, surprised to see Charlie standing there at the bottom of the stairs.
"I'll-see you at breakfast," Charlie said.
Katherine looked from Charlie to Scott, who was standing in the doorway of the dining room, and
said, "Alright." She nodded to Scott, and went on up the staircase.
Charlie turned to look back at Scott, her expression wary. Scott turned and went back into the dining room, where he
sat back down in his chair, and picked up his coffee cup, finishing what was left.
Charlie came to stand in the doorway of the dining room, and that's where she stood. When Scott set his empty cup down, he
turned to look her way.
"Come over here and sit down," Scott told her, and pulled out the chair next to him, moving his own so that it
was facing the other chair.
Charlie came slowly over to the chair, and sat down.
"I'm disappointed in you," Scott said.
"Why, Scott?" Charlie asked, looking genuinely confused. "You mean because I didn't answer her?"
"That's just one of many things that you did tonight that disappoints me. Your behavior during the entire
meal has been unacceptable. Talking back like you did, being rude, playing with your food. If you did any
of that at our dinner table, you'd be sent away from the table, and up to your room. And you'd stay in your
room that evening and the entire next day, including having your meals up there by yourself."
Charlie looked at him, seemingly horrified. "But, Scott-" she began.
"No, Charlie," Scott said, shutting down her protests firmly. "If you can't behave at a table for a meal with other
people, then you should eat alone until you can."
Charlie's eyes filled with tears. "Don't be angry with me, Scott. Please! Not tonight, not when I have to stay
here by myself!"
It took everything Scott had in him, not to cave in. He took a deep breath, and a couple of moments, and then
he said, "That doesn't have anything to do with you having proper behavior."
"She made you like her!" Charlie accused him, her eyes flashing thru tears. "She pretended with you, so
that you'd think she's better than she really is!"
Scott was stunned by her vehement response. From tears to fury.
"That's not true," Scott said.
"It is true!" Charlie insisted. "She was pretending to be interested in Lancer, and all of that, so that
you'd think she's some sort of grand lady, or something! And then she'll get you to believe that I'm a bad
kid! That I'm nothing but trouble! That's what she tells everybody about me!"
And with that, Charlie covered her face with both of her hands, and began to sob.
Scott wasn't sure just how much time passed, after he held Charlie on his lap, and comforted her the best way that he knew
how, and told her that he'd never think of her as trouble, or a nuisance. He saw her into bed, and read to her, then sat until she fell
asleep.
Then he hailed a hansom cab, and went back to his hotel room, where he knew something with a certainty. He knew he
was going to get drunk.
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