"Maude! , "Mary's sitting behind her desk when she walks in, but the
young mother quickly rises and comes around her workstation, taking her
hand when she comes within reach, "How are you holding up?"
There is honest concern in the younger woman's every nuance as well as something, perhaps not unlike commiseration, the understanding of one woman to another of what life with certain men could be like.
She smiles politely, "Ezra improves with every passing hour."
"That I knew. I asked about you."
Briefly she is taken aback by the gentle censure in Mary's voice, yet only briefly. She has a reason for coming here. , "I'm better, now that he is awake. I was wondering my dear, if we might talk?"
Looking as though she's expected this, and perhaps she has,, Mary nods, releases her hand , and moves to close the door. , "Certainly. Please,"she gestures to the chair before the desk, "have a seat. I can offer some lemonade if you'd like some."
"No thank you dear, I'm fine., "Maude watches her take her seat behind the desk and wonders if perhaps this woman also might play some part in her son's continued presence here. This is not a new thought and as before she is unsure as to weather or not it deserves further contemplation. Mary Travis is a beautiful, admirable woman to be sure, yet what lies between her and Chris Larabee is nearly palpable. She finds it difficult to believe her son would proceed in light of such an obstacle, especially when it was Mister Larabee.
And yet...
And yet if she is not very much mistaken, each and every one of the Peacekeepers, Ezra included, is quite firmly besotted with the woman. She has seen proof of this time and time again, proof that these men will not only die for Mrs. Travis, but are something more than swift when seeking reprisals against those who would harm her. Threatening Mary Travis is, she thinks, the surest way to gain their attention.
The woman in question is watching her now, politely expectant, giving her what time she needs to arrange her thoughts.
What, specifically, has she come here to ask this woman? And why, why, why does it matter? It did not, before, and should not now, yet it does. It is foreign, this impulse, and newly developed; she does not know if she will ever be able to forgive her son or his friends, this woman before her, or this town for awakening the thing.
Yet she will ask, and she finds herself doing so without quite being aware of it, "I believe in being direct when the moment calls for it, so I'll be concise and simple as I can. Please forgive me if you find my words a trifle blunt or rude, and I apologize in advance for making you uncomfortable, as I surly will., "Concise, she reminds herself. Concise. ,"Now. I'm not a good mother am I?"
Mary's expression very carefully does not change and Maude wants to applaud. That's a hell of a poker face.
The woman laces her fingers together and faces her straight across the desk, almost, Maude thinks, as if they're about to negotiate a business contract of some sort, her answer, when it comes, thought not unkindly, is very direct, "That depends upon whose opinion you wish to be judged. If it's Chris Larabee's we're to go on the answer is a resounding no. In point of fact it would go quite a bit further than that, but I'm not about to repeat the things he'd say., "She sighed, "He's capable of it, but he wouldn't be very kind."
No, she thinks, he reserves that for children and small animals.
"Buck and Vin aren't much better. They idolized their own mothers and, as a result, have certain standards by which they judge. I daresay they're not quite as entrenched in their dislike and disapproval as Chris, but you baffle them. And they are, in the end, men of action. Which does speak louder than words I'm afraid."
There is a certain rehearsed air to Mary's words and Maude wonders if the woman has been expecting her to ask the question, or if she's worked it out for her own sake. She is, after all, a reporter, of a sort, and, after a fashion, involved with Chris, it would certainly behoove her to be aware of the seven's internal politics. Yet she knows these things, has known them since her first return visit after purchasing the Tavern, and does not doubt Mary knows this as well. Perhaps the woman is not stalling for time, yet time is wasting all the same and very little is being accomplished. ," This I know. I asked you."
The woman's lips thin for a moment and her face tightens, her odd pale eyes search her face and finally she asks, "Did you purchase the Standish Tavern before or after you realized Ezra was using his own money?"
She does not hesitate, "After."
"Before that, was it your intention to run him out of business so as to lessen his ties to the town, and perhaps to drive him into leaving?"
"Certainly."
Mary nods and Maude knows she expected no less, but she sees no condemnation in the younger woman's eye's as she had expected to.
"Did you purchase the Tavern before or after you found out the bank was preparing to foreclose on the property?"
"After."
And that, Maude thinks, is all this young mother truly needed to know. In any other town, with any other citizenry, Ezra could've survived a foreclosure. Or, at least, he could have borne it as he certainly wouldn't have been able to do in this neat little town with his friends gazing on. She had Ezra had worked together, and against each other, often enough, and she'd exceeded his efforts almost every time. Yet the Tavern had been his first attempt at an actual business, at anything settled and permanent, and fool that she was, she'd only taken it as a warning sign and acted accordingly. She'd been over this with Chris not twenty minutes ago, yet what she hadn't told him, would not tell him even now, is that she'd moved to correct the mistake as best she could.
She didn't purchase the Tavern just because she could; she purchased the Tavern because she could not let the Bank simply take it away from him. By the time she'd realized how colossal her mistake it was too late to take any other action. He would not have survived the embarrassment of foreclosure. It was dangerous, she knew her son and was well versed in fates cruelties, but it mattered to Ezra what these people thought of him. Disdain and disapproval he could and did brush off. Failure when he wanted so much to succeed, and such a public and embarrassing failure...well he was prideful, her son, and whatever Chris Larabee accused her of, Ezra would've been far more than broken had she not taken the steps she did.
Mary's response is not quite what she expects and there is a depth of feeling behind it that makes her wonder to whom that younger woman is speaking, "You love your son Maude, of that I have no doubt, and a mother would do anything for love of her child., "she hesitates, "I'm sure that over the years you've had your reasons and sheltered Ezra from them as best you could. It makes it harder for him to explain, not that he's ever offered and I doubt he'd feel obligated to do so, when he himself doesn't understand. You raised a very capable and self-assured son Maude; we should all hope to accomplish so much. Weather or not out sons appreciate our efforts., "There's another, shorter pause, before she concludes, "Women, mothers, do what's necessary and no man has ever understood."
A tenant Maude has stood by since the earliest days of her youth, yet she thinks of Ezra's barely waking voice, asking for Chris and Nathan, the way he'd called to them while still in his delirium, thinks of the Tavern and the tone of Ezra's letters sine his arrival in Four Corners, and can't quite bring herself to accept Mary's assurances, though she'd come her for the soul purpose of being reassured.
She thinks then of another visit to this town and of someone she met on that memorable occasion. Someone who, despite their vast and varied differences, had got it as no one else had ever seemed to do. Mary comes very close, she thinks, but Billy's still young and eager and forgiving.
She decides before her next thought is even fully formed. Impulse, she has learned, can be a girl's best friend.
There is honest concern in the younger woman's every nuance as well as something, perhaps not unlike commiseration, the understanding of one woman to another of what life with certain men could be like.
She smiles politely, "Ezra improves with every passing hour."
"That I knew. I asked about you."
Briefly she is taken aback by the gentle censure in Mary's voice, yet only briefly. She has a reason for coming here. , "I'm better, now that he is awake. I was wondering my dear, if we might talk?"
Looking as though she's expected this, and perhaps she has,, Mary nods, releases her hand , and moves to close the door. , "Certainly. Please,"she gestures to the chair before the desk, "have a seat. I can offer some lemonade if you'd like some."
"No thank you dear, I'm fine., "Maude watches her take her seat behind the desk and wonders if perhaps this woman also might play some part in her son's continued presence here. This is not a new thought and as before she is unsure as to weather or not it deserves further contemplation. Mary Travis is a beautiful, admirable woman to be sure, yet what lies between her and Chris Larabee is nearly palpable. She finds it difficult to believe her son would proceed in light of such an obstacle, especially when it was Mister Larabee.
And yet...
And yet if she is not very much mistaken, each and every one of the Peacekeepers, Ezra included, is quite firmly besotted with the woman. She has seen proof of this time and time again, proof that these men will not only die for Mrs. Travis, but are something more than swift when seeking reprisals against those who would harm her. Threatening Mary Travis is, she thinks, the surest way to gain their attention.
The woman in question is watching her now, politely expectant, giving her what time she needs to arrange her thoughts.
What, specifically, has she come here to ask this woman? And why, why, why does it matter? It did not, before, and should not now, yet it does. It is foreign, this impulse, and newly developed; she does not know if she will ever be able to forgive her son or his friends, this woman before her, or this town for awakening the thing.
Yet she will ask, and she finds herself doing so without quite being aware of it, "I believe in being direct when the moment calls for it, so I'll be concise and simple as I can. Please forgive me if you find my words a trifle blunt or rude, and I apologize in advance for making you uncomfortable, as I surly will., "Concise, she reminds herself. Concise. ,"Now. I'm not a good mother am I?"
Mary's expression very carefully does not change and Maude wants to applaud. That's a hell of a poker face.
The woman laces her fingers together and faces her straight across the desk, almost, Maude thinks, as if they're about to negotiate a business contract of some sort, her answer, when it comes, thought not unkindly, is very direct, "That depends upon whose opinion you wish to be judged. If it's Chris Larabee's we're to go on the answer is a resounding no. In point of fact it would go quite a bit further than that, but I'm not about to repeat the things he'd say., "She sighed, "He's capable of it, but he wouldn't be very kind."
No, she thinks, he reserves that for children and small animals.
"Buck and Vin aren't much better. They idolized their own mothers and, as a result, have certain standards by which they judge. I daresay they're not quite as entrenched in their dislike and disapproval as Chris, but you baffle them. And they are, in the end, men of action. Which does speak louder than words I'm afraid."
There is a certain rehearsed air to Mary's words and Maude wonders if the woman has been expecting her to ask the question, or if she's worked it out for her own sake. She is, after all, a reporter, of a sort, and, after a fashion, involved with Chris, it would certainly behoove her to be aware of the seven's internal politics. Yet she knows these things, has known them since her first return visit after purchasing the Tavern, and does not doubt Mary knows this as well. Perhaps the woman is not stalling for time, yet time is wasting all the same and very little is being accomplished. ," This I know. I asked you."
The woman's lips thin for a moment and her face tightens, her odd pale eyes search her face and finally she asks, "Did you purchase the Standish Tavern before or after you realized Ezra was using his own money?"
She does not hesitate, "After."
"Before that, was it your intention to run him out of business so as to lessen his ties to the town, and perhaps to drive him into leaving?"
"Certainly."
Mary nods and Maude knows she expected no less, but she sees no condemnation in the younger woman's eye's as she had expected to.
"Did you purchase the Tavern before or after you found out the bank was preparing to foreclose on the property?"
"After."
And that, Maude thinks, is all this young mother truly needed to know. In any other town, with any other citizenry, Ezra could've survived a foreclosure. Or, at least, he could have borne it as he certainly wouldn't have been able to do in this neat little town with his friends gazing on. She had Ezra had worked together, and against each other, often enough, and she'd exceeded his efforts almost every time. Yet the Tavern had been his first attempt at an actual business, at anything settled and permanent, and fool that she was, she'd only taken it as a warning sign and acted accordingly. She'd been over this with Chris not twenty minutes ago, yet what she hadn't told him, would not tell him even now, is that she'd moved to correct the mistake as best she could.
She didn't purchase the Tavern just because she could; she purchased the Tavern because she could not let the Bank simply take it away from him. By the time she'd realized how colossal her mistake it was too late to take any other action. He would not have survived the embarrassment of foreclosure. It was dangerous, she knew her son and was well versed in fates cruelties, but it mattered to Ezra what these people thought of him. Disdain and disapproval he could and did brush off. Failure when he wanted so much to succeed, and such a public and embarrassing failure...well he was prideful, her son, and whatever Chris Larabee accused her of, Ezra would've been far more than broken had she not taken the steps she did.
Mary's response is not quite what she expects and there is a depth of feeling behind it that makes her wonder to whom that younger woman is speaking, "You love your son Maude, of that I have no doubt, and a mother would do anything for love of her child., "she hesitates, "I'm sure that over the years you've had your reasons and sheltered Ezra from them as best you could. It makes it harder for him to explain, not that he's ever offered and I doubt he'd feel obligated to do so, when he himself doesn't understand. You raised a very capable and self-assured son Maude; we should all hope to accomplish so much. Weather or not out sons appreciate our efforts., "There's another, shorter pause, before she concludes, "Women, mothers, do what's necessary and no man has ever understood."
A tenant Maude has stood by since the earliest days of her youth, yet she thinks of Ezra's barely waking voice, asking for Chris and Nathan, the way he'd called to them while still in his delirium, thinks of the Tavern and the tone of Ezra's letters sine his arrival in Four Corners, and can't quite bring herself to accept Mary's assurances, though she'd come her for the soul purpose of being reassured.
She thinks then of another visit to this town and of someone she met on that memorable occasion. Someone who, despite their vast and varied differences, had got it as no one else had ever seemed to do. Mary comes very close, she thinks, but Billy's still young and eager and forgiving.
She decides before her next thought is even fully formed. Impulse, she has learned, can be a girl's best friend.