The porch swing’s slight protest provided the backdrop to Scott’s conversation with Kinsey which went well past the customary six o’clock dinner hour. They had lost track of the evening until their growling stomachs outmatched the squeaks. No one had come to summon them for the evening meal. Scott guessed Murdoch had made that decision realizing both men needed time to cool off.
“Guess we’ll be going to bed without our supper.”
Scott smiled. “Never. Allow me to introduce you to one of the finer things in life; a cold roast beef sandwich.”
********
The next morning the cousins stood admiring the freshly painted sign indicating the location of the Green River Gazette and Mayor’s Office.
“Let’s review, young lady. Honey and vinegar.”
“Tart words make no friends; a spoonful of honey will catch more flies than a gallon of vinegar.”
“And the wise man who spoke those words?”
“Benjamin Franklin.”
“However…”
“However, a healthy dose of vinegar can add much in communicating one’s point of view.”
“And the wise man who spoke these words?”
“Scott Garrett Lancer.”
Upon entering the newspaper office, Scott Garrett Lancer observed William Samuel Jenkins had changed very little since the night of the dance when Kinsey’s foot made solid contact with the editor-now-mayor’s shin bone. Jenkins still possessed the overconfident persona which married nicely with his condescending mannerisms to produce a face Scott simply wanted to punch.
“Why Miss Furlong, back so soon? Missing the accommodations we offered you yesterday?" The newly elected official rose from behind his editor’s desk. “Lancer. Not surprised to see you.”
Scott grinned. “Hello Will. How's the leg?”
Jenkins’ eyes narrowed. “Best be posing that question to our good sheriff.”
“Oh, I don't think that’s necessary Will. The way I hear it she hardly kicked him.”
“Here to see if your Aussie cousin’s antics made the headlines in today’s paper?”
Kinsey, displaying a smile dipped in honey, offered clarification. “Actually William, it was Scott who suggested I come today and offer you an apology. So, if we could have a moment of your time I would like to do so.”
“Well now.” Jenkins walked to the front of his desk, crossed his arms and leaned back. “Good thing I haven’t run the presses. I believe I'll be editing today’s news feature to read ‘Kinsey Rose Furlong Apologizes.' Please continue, little lady. I'm all yours.”
Kinsey nodded. “Yes, you’re a busy man so I'll begin. William, I would like to apologize for subjecting you to my childish behavior. I deeply regret calling you a…a...” Kinsey paused to remove a paper from her clutch. “Forgive me. I wanted to be certain I didn't forget anything so I wrote it down.”
Scott glanced over at his cousin. ‘Dear God. What is she doing?’
“Let me start again.” Holding the paper in front of her, Kinsey donned an expression one would require when confessing to the Good Sisters of Mercy. “William, I deeply regret calling you a wart-covered wildebeest with a closed mind locked tighter than the chastity belt on a farmer’s daughter.”
Scott adjusted his hat a bit further down over his eyes.
“It was unkind of me to compare your intellectual mind to that of a slug. A slug that lives under the rock which is found at the very bottom of a cesspool filled with ignorance and stupidity.”
Praying for an end, Scott watched Kinsey turn the paper over and rolled his eyes.
“I further regret my comments reflecting the condition of your manhood.” Kinsey glanced up. “I didn't think it was necessary to list the flaws.” Returning her gaze to the paper, “In conclusion, William, please accept my heartfelt apology. I am truly sorry.”
William Jenkins blinked twice and remained speechless.
Holding out her confession, Kinsey inquired, “Maybe you should have this William? I hate being misquoted in the press.”
“That won’t be necessary, Miss Furlong. I accept your apology.”
Scott didn’t hesitate. “Excellent. Kinsey, why don’t you go and order us two sarsaparillas. I’ll join you shortly. I’d like a moment to speak with our mayor.” Before a protest could be uttered, the little cousin found herself outside under the freshly painted sign with an office door closing behind her.
“Lancer, that was no goddamn apology and you know it. The only reason I let that little disrespectful hellion walk out of here is because of this!” Jenkins grabbed a paper off his desk and shoved it into Scott’s hands. “A petition. The women folk got wind of your cousin’s shenanigans regarding the Sharpshooters Jamboree and started a petition calling for equality. A goddamn petition naming me and the town council as non-visionaries. Is that even a word?”
Smiling, Scott began to read the list of names. “I believe it is a word.”
“I accepted that sorry excuse of an apology because this fiasco needs to end. For the love of God, even a few men signed it.”
“You mean a few voters.”
“Excuse me?”
“The men who signed this - they no doubt voted you in as mayor.” Scott held up the paper. “In fact, this could be a whole list of voters. Better face it, Jenkins, change is coming. And I think that change might happen right around the time you’re setting your sights on the Governor's House in Sacramento. They say women admire a man with vision. Probably would vote for such a man if given the opportunity. A small stone thrown the correct way can cover quite a distance across a still pond.”
Jenkins rubbed the back of his neck. “A man with a vision you say."
Scott placed the petition back on the mayor’s desk. “Think about it, Will. And while you’re at it think about this.” Scott leaned in to meet Jenkins face on. “I get word you called Kinsey anything other than ‘Miss Furlong’, I guarantee it will be you and I making the next day’s headlines.” Picking up a fountain pen the older cousin added ‘S. G. Lancer’ to the list and left.
*******
Scott spotted Kinsey sitting at a corner table conversing with the fine sheriff of Green River.
“Any man who lets this lovely lady walk unescorted into an establishment filled with lowlifes should be taken out back and horsewhipped.”
“Good to see you too, Val. Is that my sarsaparilla you’re drinking?”
“It is. Just so happens I like the stuff.”
Signaling to Henry to pour another drink, the third companion sat down.
“Kinsey has been sittin’ here tellin’ me she had a real nice conversation with Will.”
“She did. I’m pleased to say my little cousin did an admirable job of setting things straight with our mayor. And it appears a petition has been circulating supporting her views on a certain Sharpshooters Jamboree. I would not be surprised, young lady, if a few of our town’s councilmen might like to hear more from you.”
Crawford sipped his drink. “Yeah, I heard about some petition travelin’ around.”
Scott raised an eyebrow. “Well, it should sound familiar, Val. You signed it.”
Kinsey’s eyes laughed as they peered over her mug.
“Sarsaparilla here?”
Scott turned expecting to see Henry but instead…“Howie?”
“Henry said to bring this over.”
“Howie Aspinwall? I thought you were in San Francisco?”
“Yeah, well, Isabella missed her family so we moved back to Green River a few days ago.” Last year’s winner of the Sharpshooters Jamboree handed the second place finalist his drink. “Huh. Sarsaparilla. I used to love that stuff when I was a kid. Well…” Howie made the motions and sound of shooting an imaginary rifle. “See you next Saturday.”
Scott watched his grand prize of a Winchester Lever Action Repeating Rifle walk through the swinging saloon doors.
“Damn.”
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