The Courting Of Mallory, Part 2: Miz Allie

Mallory & Kell

After he sent a curt "NO" to Miz Allie's invitation to ride out, Mallory finds himself in desperate need of new long johns. The only place he can buy them is Allie's Dry Goods Store.  How will she react to seeing him?

The Courting Of Mallory

Part 2: Miz Allie

By Michael Sutch

    "I can't go in there," Mallory said, nervously stroking his freshly trimmed mustache. "Not after that letter you sent. She'll hate me."
    "Hey!" Kell objected, "I didn't send no letter. I only wrote it. And I only wrote what you wanted to write, but was too yellow to. You sent that letter, not me."
    "And I delivered it, just like you paid me to, Mal," Sandy McNeal added, his youthful face split in a wide grin. "She sure was nervous about it, too. Then, when she read it, her face kind'a all fell in, real disappointed-like. It was awful. I got out'a there as fast as I could."
    Hearing that description for about the fifthteenth time in a week still made Mallory shudder. He caught the surreptitious wink Kell gave Sandy and watched as the  kid's grin got even wider.
    "A couple of real friends I've got," he said.
    They stood on the boardwalk outside the The Rattlesnake saloon, across the street and catacorner from Allie's Dry Goods Store. The sun was high and hot this August Saturday. They had just tied their horses to the hitching rail outside the saloon, having arrived in town for an afternoon of shopping and an evening of debauchery.
    "It ain't like she'll spurn your hard money, Mal," Kell offered. "I bet she's over it already. Most likely, the worst she'll be is kind'a frosty."
    "And you sure need a new pair of long johns," Sandy said, helpfully, "after the dog got a'holt of the back end of yours. It kind'a left a permanent breezeway there in your backside."
    "Shut up!" Mallory hissed. That wasn't a story he wanted bandied around town.
    Without more hesitation, Kell grabbed Mallory's arm and pulled him toward the street in the direction of Allie's store. "C'mon, we ain't got all day."
    The interior of the dry goods store was stifling and dim, although here and there dust mites danced in sunbeams slanting in through the windows. It made for odd areas of light and shadow over the humped bales of cloth and the tables piled high with articles of clothing. The main counter was shrouded in darkness and Mallory could not see Miz Allie there. He desperately wanted to gauge her mood. He found a pile of long johns and was fingering through them, anticipating in nervous dread her first words.
    "Mallory!" came the high, thin voice of Allie Waterson in pleased satisfaction. "You finally came."
    The three men exchanged confused looks at this unexpected evidence of good humor. She came upon them, her boney face alight with anticipation when she looked on Mallory. The glances she gave to Kell and Sandy, though, were many degrees cooler.
    "Miz Allie," the three men mumbled together.
    "Mallory, I sent you a letter last week, and this is what I got in return." She waved the letter with Kell's curt 'NO' scrawled on it, along with an impossible rendition of Mallory's signature.
    "Uh..." said Mallory.
    "This is not your writing, and certainly not your signature. I've seen that on enough IOUs to know the difference."
     "Well..."
    "My guess is, you never even saw my letter, did you?" Her hard, little brown eyes drilled both Kell and Sandy. "I think a couple of no-goods intercepted it and decided to have a little fun."
    Given this way out of his acute embarrassment about the whole affair of the letter, Mallory gravely considered the evidence she had thrust in his face.
    "You sent me a letter?" he asked.
    At his side, Kell muttered, "I'll be a...."
    "Yes," she said. "I sent you an invitation to go out riding in my new buggy. The invitation is still open. We could go tomorrow, if you want, after church."
    "Uh..." Mallory said. Her horse-like face wore a simpering smile that filled him with horror.
    "Oh, please, Mallory. It would give me great pleasure to ride out to Rose Hill for a look out over the valley."
    Mallory flushed, suddenly very hot, and sweat popped out on his brow. He heard what sounded suspiciously like smothered snickering laughs from both Kell and Sandy. Rose Hill was a local favorite for lovers trysts.
    "Well..." he said.
    "I'll pack a picnic lunch," she went on. "You've always liked my fried chicken at church socials."
    "Yes, I..."
    "Oh, you'll go! I knew you were too much the gentleman to hurt a lady's feelings."
    Backed into a corner, with nowhere left to turn, Mallory sighed. "Sure, I'll ride out with you, Miss Allie."
    "I knew you would. I'm so excited!" she said. Then she eyed the pile of long johns his hand still rested on and her manner turned very practical. "What is it you need today, Mallory?"
    "A pair of long johns," he said, in despair.
    When he had made his purchase and they were back out on the street, Kell and Sandy erupted in long-suppressed laughter.
    "Oh, you're such a gentleman!" Kell gibed in high falsetto.
    "Rose Hill!" was all Sandy could say, bent over and slapping his leg with his gloves in great hilarity.
    "Oh, shut up!" Mallory snapped and stomped away.

(c) 2014 by Michael Sutch

The Courting Of Mallory, Part 1: The Letter

Mallory & Kell

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

The Silver Spurs

Mallory & Kell

Just a little bit of humor, again set in the old west.  There is more to come from Mal And Kell.

The Silver Spurs

by Michael Sutch

 "No one stole your spurs, Kell. It's just you can't find them in all this mess!"
    Mallory was looking askance at his partner's kit spread out over Kell's bunk and scattered half around the bunkhouse. Kell grunted, digging further into his trunk and throwing an old pair of chaps on the floor.
    "I tell you," Kell grumbled, "one of the boys stole my new spurs. They was right here on top of everything. Now they ain't."
    Mallory looked over Kell's shoulder and into the dark depths of the trunk. "I don't see how you can tell where anything is. It's like a rat's nest in there."
    Kell slammed the top of the trunk shut and stood glaring at Mallory. "Damn it, Mal! Just 'cause I'm not a prissy old woman like you that keeps everything in its own special place don't mean I don't know where things are. If all you are going to do is stand around and comment on the state of my kit, then git out of here! I don't need you."
    "Hey," Mallory said, smoothing his mustache. "I don't mean anything, it's just...Well, never mind. If they aren't here, they arent' here. Who do you think took them?"
    "I don't know," Kell said, stuffing wrinkled shirts, trousers, the aforementioned chaps back into the trunk in haphazard fashion, followed quickly by a sewing kit, shaving gear, and a leather tobacco pouch. "But I'm betting if we head into town and stop into Kott's Merchandise, we'll find them fixed to the wall behind his counter, all polished up and gleaming like the silver he paid for them. And he'll tell us just who it was sold them to him too."
    Mallory nodded. "Sounds like an idea. I'll go saddle up."
    Kell grabbed his old stetson off the pillow of his bunk and slammed it down on the uncombed mop of his thick red hair. As he passed the bunk, he accidentally kicked it. There came a clinking sound from beneath one of the wadded up blankets. Both men stopped. Mallory, by the door, turned around, looking at the bunk. Kell pulled the blankets aside and there, resting on the yellow sheets, were two silver spurs.
    Mallory grinned.
    "Oh, shut up!" Kell said.
    "I didn't say nothing," Mallory answered, but his grin got bigger.

(c) 2014 by Michael Sutch