It was at high tea time, when I knew I needed to leave.
"Lavinia, Dear, you're slipping a bit. No man of importance would want to marry a pig" mother said. She has deprecated me for as long as I could count.
"I apologise, mother. I didn't know men around here didn't like pigs, they're sweet on enough of 'em" I retorted, which she didn't seem to like, so I continued with "that's what happened with you and Daddy, right?" I smirked and Harriet, my sister, laughed. Mother's face went purple, so I needed to leave, luckily for me, the butler, Charles Jackson entered the scenario.
Charles 'Chuck' Jackson is the 'help' as mother puts it, but he barely gets paid enough to support his family. His family still live in a small house just outside New Orleans, and he visits them once every few months. "Miss Crawford, you said yesterday you needed a driver into town? Is that still the case, Madam?" He helped.
"Of course, Mr. Jackson. We shall leave at once!" I offer to the room, as Chuck bows when we leave.
"Oh I envy your youth, Lavinia" mother mocks, sipping tea.
"Anyone your age would, mother" I spit sourly as Chuck readied the horses for the cart. I allowed my Horse, Icarus, to follow,
Because I needed to get out.
The slow ride was silent, because even though she wasn't present, my mother scares Charles. "You can talk you know, Sir"
"You don't have to call me Sir, Miss Crawford"
"Call me Vin at least"
"Alright, Vin. What are you doing in town?"
"Finding myself a man" I offered little information, as all was about to become apparent.
"A suitor, is it?"
"A hatch, my dear Charles. 'Tis but a perfect hatch" I laugh as we reach the centre of town. There is but a parlour I love dearly. I scout the place for a seat at the bar and start commencing my plan. "My dear John," I start, directing to the lovely handsome bartender. I didn't neglect this fact. "You gorgeous man, could I get a whiskey?"
"I'm sorry, Miss Crawford. Your mother, Catherine, will chop off my head and feed it to my children if I allow you a drink"
"I'll pay double and never tell, a deal, as it sounds?"
"That's a fair enough answer, Lavinia. A shot of whiskey it is." He lets off a smile.
"A shot? Do you take me for a small boy? I am but a woman, and I deserve a full crystal glass," I smirk.
The saloon was well lit and decorated; glass oil lamps and rows of peonies behind the bar, and a fiddler playing their music on a podium, accompanied by a smooth pianist. This establishment is often favoured by the upper class, until today.
A young, rugged man entered, and the bartender eyed him perfectly. A low hat and a gun belt, he had me damn intrigued.
He walked up to the bar and leaned next to me. I knocked back my whiskey and mocked.
"What are you doing in this neck of the woods, Cowboy?" I asked.
"You're all bark but no bite, Miss"
"Show me your fists and I will tell if you're worth the fight, young man. Your name?"
"I ain't gonna fight you, Miss. My name's, uh, James. James Watson. My friends call me Jim. And you, Miss?"
Alright, I'll bite. "James, I'm Lavinia Crawford"
"Crawford? As in the large estate up the city?"
"The very same" I saw a glint in his eye. One I had never seen in anyone in this shithole of a town. That's when I figured. "You're not from here, are you? Where are you from?"
"Louisiana, Miss Lavinia"
"Say, James Watson from Louisiana, want to get the fuck out of this damn place?"
