Mallory receives an invitation from homely Miz Allie. He doesn't want to go out with her, but he doesn't want to hurt her feelings, either. What will he do? What can he do?
The Courting of Mallory
Part 1: The Letter
by Michael Sutch
Mallory dithered.
He gathered his writing implements, quill pen, ink pot, parchment paper and spread them out over the rickety old table that occupied one end of the bunk house. Then he sat, picked up the quill, dipped it in the ink and stared at the paper. He put the quill down, angled the paper a little more to his liking and picked up the pen again. After another moment of contemplation he noticed the tip of the quill was split. He drew the knife from his boot sheath and used it to whittle the quill to a sharper point. Then he dipped the quill in the ink once more and resumed staring at the parchment.
Kell, watching this game of indecision from where he sat on his bunk smoking a cigaret, glanced over at Sandy McNeal and jerked his head toward Mallory. "I got a silver dollar says old Mallory won't be able to finish that 'No Thank You' letter to Miz Allie," he whispered.
"That who his letter was from this morning? Miz Allie?" Sandy's whisper was a little hoarse from trying to control an outright bray of laughter.
Kell's grin was wickedly wide. "Yep. The very mistress of homely, herself."
"What'd she want?" Sandy gasped.
"Ain't sayin' until you take my bet."
Young Sandy levered his six foot four inch frame off his bunk high enough to peer through the blue smoke over Kell's head at Mallory. "All he has to do is say no thank you?"
"Yep."
"Ok, you're on. See, he's writin' already. Now, what did she want?"
Mallory, hunched over the parchment, was was writing with a slow and careful hand. Abruptly he crossed out what he had written, folded the paper neatly and reached out to place it in the nearby box of kindling for the wood-burning stove. Then he carefully drew forth another piece of paper and maneuvered it to the precise angle he needed for writing.
Kell sucked in a lung full of smoke and blew it toward the cobwebbed rafters of the bunkhouse. He thought Sandy's face was a trifle whiter that it had been a moment before. No doubt he was seeing that silver dollar sprout wings to fly away. The thought made him happy.
"Come on! What'd she say?" Sandy hissed at him.
"She asked him to go out ridin' with her come Saturday afternoon in her new rig."
After a moment of sheer disbelief, Sandy's deep-throated laughter bubbled loudly to the surface. "No," he said, "tell me it ain't so." At Kell's solemn nod, he doubled up, buried his head in his pillow and howled.
"What do you two find so funny?" Mallory snapped.
Kell looked at Mallory in feigned surprise. "Why I was just telling young Sandy here one of the more ridiculous facts of life. He found it somewhat amusing too."
Mallory stood and placed the quill in its inkwell. "I can't do this," he said. "I should ride into town tomorrow and tell her I can't go, face to face."
Kell stood and scratched his shaggy locks. "You ain't going to write that letter?"
"No."
Kell held his hand out to Sandy. With a sour expression the kid dug a silver dollar from his jeans pocket and slapped it in Kell's palm.
"I knew it!" Mallory said, disgust making his moustache quiver.
"It would be a bad idea to go see her face to face, Mallory," Kell said.
"What do you mean?"
"You'd get to feeling all sorry for her and you'd end up agreeing to go with her."
"Well, I can't write this letter either. It would hurt her feelings too."
"You remember I told you she'd get the wrong idea, you bein' so friendly all the time."
"I was just trying to be nice. Maybe I'll just ignore the whole thing and not do anything."
"For pity's sake, Mal," Kell said. "This ain't that hard." He picked up the quill, dipped it in the ink pot and wrote a big 'No" on the page. Then he scrawled a totally impassable imitation of Mallory's precise signature. "See? All done."
"I can't send that!"
"Better that than nothing. It would really hurt her feelings if she thought you were going to go and you never showed."
Mallory grimaced, reached for the paper, then shook his head. "No, I can't."
"I'll bet you another dollar, Sandy, that Mal will end up not doin' nothin and makin' the whole thing worse."
Mallory shuddered. "Ok!" He folded the terse letter into an envelope and neatly addressed it to Allie Smith. "Will you deliver it for me?"
"Not me!" Kell said.
"I will, Mallory," Sandy said, "for a silver dollar."
Mallory closed his eyes. Then he took a silver dollar from his pocket and flipped it to the kid.
(c) 2014 by Michael Sutch
