Julie

Around the fourth season of the town’s existence, two more people came to be known in the little town. The first was Julie Belsom, a complex combination of gracious lady, astute businesswoman, and playful spitfire. She took one look around the town the first week and could sense that this was a town full of promise. She had come with her own wealth, and her own spirit. At times, she was all lady, her blouses and skirts made of the finest materials, her hair expertly coiffed. But she could also be unconventional, often riding into town astride her horse, dressed in fringed Delaware buckskin blouse and vest, her black hair hanging in a thick rope down her back. From the moment she entered the general store, purchasing items for her new home, tongues has wagged, but her kind heart, and sunny nature soon won people over. She was soon the favored guest among the ladies who went “calling.” Every afternoon they would put on their finest dresses, and set off in carriages to the other ladies homes for lengthy chats about fashion or to gossip about the towns many characters. Invitations to her gracious farm became the highlight of the ladies calls. Julie was being far more then a gracious hostess however. These calls allowed her to learn first hand the layout of the town, the personalities of the businesspeople there, and gained her foot in the door when she began to build up her business holdings. She soon knew far more then anyone realized; the gossiping tongues of the ladies gave her a leverage that baffled many of the men she did business with.

One of the first women she met when the calls started was Nancy Carmack, the wife of the owner of a hotel on the main strip of the town. Her husband David had fallen on hard times, and Julie soon found out that while the Carmacks were living as though their finances were healthy, they were in truth very much in need of cash. This was partly due to Nancy’s bad habit of racing her carriage around the town at top speeds. She had worn out so many carriages one year, that her husband refused to allow her to drive anywhere anymore. What he didn’t know was that whenever the women went calling she always managed to talk them into letting her take the reigns. It was on a day of driving that Julie found out that David wanted to unload his hotel and a small building adjacent to it. Letting Nancy take the reigns, the two women set off for the center of town. One look at the run down building, and Julie knew that she wanted it. Within a week David had cash, Nancy had a new carriage (with the promise that she would slow down), and Julie had started construction on the Mountain Inn, a combination hotel and restaurant. She used the building next door as the restaurant, connecting it to the hotel. It was a study in refinement and good taste, and soon the Inn was one of the most successful businesses in town. All the church socials were held there, and when there was an epidemic running through the town, it was often used to house the sick. As a result of this, Julie was considered one of the most influential voices in town, both by the women who loved drinking tea and exchanging gossip in the restaurant, and the men who were impressed with the success of the hotel.

The calls and social conversations would eventually turn to the discussion of André, as colorful, successful people are often commented upon at such events. Most of the women spoke of his good looks, his proud manner and his bank account. As with most successful, unattached men, many of the ladies had attempted to put their daughter’s in his sight. These women told Julie of the courting in harsh words. André, being as intelligent as he was, took an interest in the giggling, fawning girls, but would grow quickly bored, driving their mothers to distraction. Julie listened to the barrage of observations and bit the inside of her cheek as the ladies commented on everything from his strange accent that seemed to come and go depending on who he was talking to, or his large vocabulary that sent most of the mothers scrambling to their dictionaries, sure that their daughters had been maligned in some way. Most of the town commented on his strange last name, which no one was really sure how to pronounce. Most would call him Mr. Germon, adding that when they did, they would get an abrupt correction from him. For all his frustrated attempts to get people to pronounce his name correctly, however, they always seemed to revert to the wrong one.

These stories interested Julie, but it was his business holdings that really attracted her interest. As time passed in the town, she had increased her holdings beyond the Mountain Inn, to include a boarding house, a general store, and part ownership in a dressmaker’s shop. Soon, the town seemed to be divided into two distinct parts, with André owning the prominent business on one street, while Julie owned the ones on another. There were other business owners to be sure, but the majority of the economy was theirs. In some instances, their holdings were divided among the streets themselves, as in the case of the Can Can Napoleon, which was kitty-corner from the Mountain Inn. The boisterous noise from the dance hall often seeped into the restaurant in the late hours, disturbing those who came for a late, romantic supper. No one seemed to be able to stop this from happening. The Can Can (sometimes completed with Nepoleanne), as most of the locals called it, was one of the most popular places in town, so any complaints were met with a resounding silence or worse, loud protests at the curbs. In time, most learned to ignore the rowdy whoops and hollers. For Julie, however, it was a constant thorn in her side.

Julie knew of his other ventures. She had often seen the Viscosité Buvette, but ignored it. It was the Une Maison de Champagene, whispered about in the calling circles that fueled her imagination. None of the women had ever actually been in the Mansion of course, but they all seemed to have stories to tell about the grounds, furnishings, and goings on there. One morning, after an evening where stories were again whispered, Julie found herself putting on loose buckskins, pinning her hair tightly, and jamming a large, floppy brown hat on her head that covered her face as well as her hair. She mounted her mare Delilah and headed out towards the southern edge of town, through the center where her hotel and other businesses were located, across the railroad tracks, past the shabbier homes, and saloons and gambling houses. She told herself that she was simply going to get some exercise, and to look at the newest of Andre’s holdings. She soon found herself at the end of a lush tree-lined road, gazing at the magnificent building. She slowed Delilah down, but kept moving, marveling at its graceful facade and lush gardens, amazed at the fact that it was a bordello. She was so intent on the beautiful building, that she barely noticed the tall man riding the huge brown stallion. As he passed her, she instinctively lowered her head in a nod, looking, at least in passing, like any other cowboy out looking for a good time, and he barely noticed the rider as he returned the nod. It was a good thing that he was in a hurry to get back to town. André never saw the deep blush that crossed the young “man’s” face.

Like Julie, André heard of the woman long before he met her. Men who came to his office in town would talk about the woman who not only ran her own business, but also was so good at it that her investments were beginning to rival his. Anna had talked about this woman in awe, having met her in the general store one day under the watchful stares of the shopkeeper. If Julie knew of Anna’s role at the Mansion, she had said nothing, but had given Anna small suggestions on purchases, subtly snubbing the angry glares from the shopkeeper's wife for delaying what was usually a quick departure on Anna’s part. He also heard about her from Morgan, who one morning found herself in the kitchen of the restaurant, laughing over hot tea about how she had come to the town, and how she had met André. Morgan and Julie had become fast friends; the small refined dark haired woman a startling contrast to the tall, wild blonde. Julie seemed not to care that Morgan worked in the local saloon; all she cared about was the kind, playful spirit of her friend. As a result, Morgan loved Julie almost as much as she did André, and for much the same reason — they both gave her respect, when others had not.

André’s interest began to grow regarding the newest whirlwind member of the community, but he had not made any attempt to actually go to the Inn and see for himself. He listened patiently as people talked about her, and quickly forgot about it, until the next person told him of a conversation or meeting with her. The last straw for him however, came one morning when he went to the saloon to go over the books with Hawke. The big, burly man sat down at one of the tables, and laid down the books. But instead of talking about the bar, he asked André if he had ever met the new owner of the Inn.

What Hawke told him was an amazing story. One morning, as he was walking back to his room after an evening of revelry at the Mansion, he had seen a woman in braid and buckskin starting to cross the dirt road on the way to the hotel. At first, he thought she was simply the after effect of overindulgence from the night before. But, as she crossed the street, he saw an oncoming stagecoach turn the corner and make its way down the street toward her. Her arms had been full of packages from the post office, and she had stopped for just a moment to steady the top package. She did not see the coach, and would have most certainly been struck, but for the quick movements of Hawke. His head may have been throbbing, and his brain not sure if she was real, he told André; but he was not about to let her be struck by an oncoming stagecoach. He ran into the street, grabbed the startled woman by the waist, and pulled her to safety.

After the coach passed, he released her, and went back to the street to gather the scattered parcels. He followed her into the kitchen of the restaurant, and set down the packages on the table, turning to make a quick retreat. She grabbed his arm silently, and sat him down at the table, simultaneously putting a cup of coffee in his hand. She then began to talk with him while she opened the rather shabby packages. The last one she picked up made an ominous noise, like feet treading on glass shavings. Hawke stopped talking, worried that the content of the package was ruined, and that he had upset her. She looked at the writing on the package, and a smile lit up her face. She opened one end of the package, and pulled out a broken piece of porcelain, with its garish, ornate, obviously oriental design. She looked at the broken piece, then at Hawke. And burst out laughing. Seeing Hawke’s confused face, she showed him the return address on the paper, telling him that the package had come from her Mother. It had contained a soup tureen that had been her mother’s favorite piece of china. When Hawke mumbled to her about how sorry he was that it had been broken, she laughed even harder. She looked at him for a moment, and trying to keep a straight face finally managed to tell him that it was her mother’s favorite piece. She had always thought it the ugliest thing she had ever seen.

Hawke finished this story with a laugh, fully expecting André to start laughing as well. Instead, he was met with a stone-faced, impatient stare. Rolling his eyes, he simply slid the books over to be inspected, thinking to himself that André really needed to learn to see the humor in things. What Hawke did not know was that his boss was actually thinking back to his own mother, and how she too had prized many an ugly possession. It was not the books he was thinking about. It was a wish that someday a carriage might run over some of the things she owned as well. He kept this light hearted thought to himself as he ran down the numbers on the pages, quickly assessing the profits for the week, and deciding that it was time to meet the dynamo who was quickly becoming his equal in business, albeit in the “nicer” ventures. She was starting to intrigue him, and any escape from boredom was always welcome.

What André did not know was that Julie was just as eager to finally meet him. She had heard the stories of his exploits and adventures, from both the men and women of the town. She knew of his kindness toward Morgan and other “girls” he had helped, and of his fondness for Hawke, even though it was masked behind a facade of gruffness. Unlike a man, however, Julie could not simply walk two blocks down the street, enter his office and introduce herself. She was caught behind a wall of propriety, for all her eccentricities concerning her wardrobe, and riding habits. She may have been a respected business owner, but part of that respect was gained by her knowing just how far out of place she could step. André never frequented the Inn or restaurant, preferring to eat at the dance hall or one of his other establishments. She never met him at the Church either, as there were two services, and each of them went to the one that suited them best. Julie went in the mornings, while André preferred the afternoon services, so that he could sleep late. The opportunity soon arose, however, that would allow them to finally meet.

Chapter 1 ... André
*Chapter 2 ... Julie
Chapter 3 ... Clyde
Chapter 4 ... The Welcoming Party
Chapter 5 ... Sunrise
Chapter 6 ... Tabletop
Chapter 7 ... The Race
Chapter 8 ... Missed Lunch
Chapter 9 ... Something To Chew On
Chapter 10 .. Back to Business
Chapter 11 .. House Work
Chapter 12 .. Idyllicus Interruptus
Chapter 13 .. House Repair
Chapter 14 .. Day’s End
Chapter 15 .. TBA
Chapter 16 .. TBA
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