Posted by Cora on September 30, 1998 at 09:42:45:
In Reply to: Re: Hawkeye, the good fer nuthin' posted by Peg on September 30, 1998 at 07:45:34:
: Will you listen to the man now. Takin' up with a fine lady and already complainin' about it. Her with not enough sense to wrap her skirts up to keep them out o a wee bit of mud. Just wait til she spends the winter, and she'll see some mud that will suck the moccasins right off yer feet, if you're lucky enough to have some. The likes o us hain't seen stockin's nor shoes in many a day, but we make the best of it.
: Him and his friends what's broke the hearts of many amongst the cabins and wigwams in these here parts. It's not just his word that's been spread up n down the frontier. Actin' like he and his boon companions have come to comfort the wimmin whilst their men are away with the militia, or trappin' and huntin' way off in the woods. And then there's that story they've been tellin' about bein' the last o their tribe, poor things. Load of malarky iffn you was to ask me. Did yew see Ching, his bad self, at the potluck at the Cameron's? Standin' there with his shirt open, flauntin' his tatoos?!
: And wot about Bess here? Her thinkin' you'd be spendin' the winter with her, helpin' put food on the table. She's chopped a load of firewood as high as the cabin roof. Now she'll have to try to get on as a laundress at the fort, if she can. And her a widow at only nineteen with two wee 'uns to feed. The worst part is we're all havin to listen to her carryin' on, blubberin' in her cups, makin' sich a racket it's sours the ale. In my mind it's time for a leetle revenge, me boy.
: Peg O'Reilly
Your words have warmed my heart! Hawk's got everyone thinking he's such a fine "natur' man", but in truth, he's a philandering, no good, self-serving, egotistical trail blazer (and he blazes more kinds of trails than the moccasin type).
I must admit I was taken with his charming ways, but now; well, I feel cheapened. Just the other day I met up with a common colonial woman and her babe. When I stopped to admire the child, the woman nearly popped my corset with her news of the child's father! Yes, it was Hawkeye! Ooooh! I am so sick of that vile man's name.
And, Mrs. O'Reilly, regarding my skirts ... you must try to understand that life here in the frontier colonies is not as I imagined it living in London or Boston. I'll get used to it, I suppose. Would you happen to know if Bumppo's Tavern is in need of female help?
Miss Cora Munro
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