Arrival

The stagecoach came to a gradual stop in front of the Whayberry Inn and Saloon. She was so glad to be going to a nice room of solitude at the Whayberry Inn, even if only for a few days before she commits herself to a life of strangers in this strange place. The wind picked up and sent her skirts up and about. She grabbed them more out of instinct than anything else. Her hat sailed off her head as though it was happy to no longer be on the stagecoach and it was free to do as it pleased. She looked about for her hat and was unable to locate it. She quickly indicated for the boy who came out to be the porter for her bags to take them inside of the Whayberry so she could check in.

 

Her eyes took a few moments to adjust to the dimly lit Saloon. Then she saw her hat. Sitting on a table next to a mountain of a man with so much hair she thought he must be part mountain goat. He was dirty. It was difficult to say if he was Mexican, tan or perhaps even black. He eyed her through narrow slits that must have had eyes somewhere in their depths but she couldn’t see them. She approached him and asked if she might have her hat back. He nodded once in the affirmative. She reached for her hat and could smell the odd mix of cattle, dust and man coming from him. She glanced at him and realized a full set of perfect white teeth were gleaming from a broad smile on his face. “Thank you”, she said as she grabbed her hat and continued to the check in counter.

 

“I believe I have a reservation”, she said. The huge, hairy man then stood and said, “A reservation for Miss Matilda Wright”. She turned and looked the man with amazement, “ye…yes. That is right”, she stammered. She looked at him standing. He was so tall she was sure his head would hit the beams of the ceiling, but they didn’t. He said, “My name is George. George Robinson…mam”. All she could say was “Oh” to this very tall, hairy, smelly, dirty, wild looking man who would possibly be her husband in a couple of days. “I’ll let you get settled in”, he said with a tip of his hat. He left the Saloon, mounted a Palomino and rode away.

 

She must have gone rather pale because the man behind the counter quickly came around the counter and asked if she would like to sit down. A woman brought her a glass of water and she sipped it carefully. “I am sorry”, she said. “I must be making a terrible first impression on all of you”. The man who worked the counter waived his hand dismissing her statement and said, “George looks much worse than he really is”. She gave a nervous smile to the man as she realized everyone knew who she was and why she had arrived. She felt somewhat foolish. The man who worked at the counter introduced himself as Steve Moore and the woman who handed her the water was his wife Stella.