Wesly Michel, a black engineer at Dictionary. He acknowledged the fraught history of white people calling the police on black people for trivial reasons, but did not say he was acting out of any sort of racial bias. This is not uncommon in San Francisco and the bad actors are all different colors. Read Cukor's full post here. Topline : A white YouTube employee was filmed calling the police on a black man waiting for a friend inside the doorway of an apartment building in San Francisco, the latest viral incident depicting a white person calling the police on a black person for ordinary or inconsequential activities.
The video was recorded and posted on Facebook on the Fourth of July by Wesly Michel, a black software engineer at Dictionary. Chad Kinkaid works on Kathleen's ranch though he will inherit the neighboring spread. He is attracted immediately to Marian in spite of her dotty clothing and thick spectacles. She falls in love with Chad, but Marian believes he loves Amanda because no one ever cared about her. While Amanda falls in love with someone who seems indifferent to her and Chad has trouble persuading his beloved that they belong together, a behind the scenes manipulator has other plans for the Laton cash.
The letter was the one that Albert Bridges had sent to their aunt.
Of course, Marian hadn't doubted he was who he said he was. She hadn't needed proof. But she pretended to be satisfied with the proof he offered and with a sniff and a shove of her spectacles more tightly to the top of her nose, she said primly, "Very good. I'm glad we are in capable hands," and she walked away. It was probably his annoyance that made him say to her back, "Capable?
No, just my hands. There'd been six hours of daylight left and the next town with a stage depot in it could have been reached before dark at a normal pace. But the horses were fresh, and he was still angry, so they arrived an hour before nightfall. He took the rest of his anger out on the depot employee who tried to get out of supplying them with a regular driver at no extra cost, and even wanted to keep the coach they already had in their possession.
Not likely. The way Chad saw it, the sisters were owed a free ride all the way to Trenton as compensation for the ordeal the last driver had put them through. The ladies were put up in a hotel for the night—a decent one. At least he heard no complaints from them. Which hadn't been the case for most of the day.
The ride he'd given them had produced a heck of a lot of screaming from inside the coach, which he'd ignored. Probably all from that schoolmarmish spinster with the overactive imagination. Three whiskeys later in the nearest saloon, and he finally stopped grinding his teeth. He still wasn't happy. He was stuck with women, not girls, and three of them.
He should have asked for clarification from Red before he set out. He shouldn't have just taken her remark about "girls" to be an accurate description of her nieces. He should have said, "hell no," to doing her this favor, but unfortunately, it was too late for shoulds and shouldn'ts. It had been bad enough when he'd thought he'd be traveling with children all the way back to the ranch, but most of the children he knew were well behaved, and he'd expected no trouble from them.
Women, on the other hand, could be nothing but trouble, and from what he'd seen of these sisters so far, the "could be" was a definite "would be.
But having it set in his mind that they were too young to be a bother kept him from wondering over the remarks he'd heard about them along the way, and not once were they actually called "women" to his recollection. That Amanda was as pretty as a picture.
Blond hair in a light golden shade and done up to frame her oval face with fashionable curls and ringlets that suited her perfectly. A pert little nose, rose-colored cheeks, a soft chin, and the most luscious lips he'd seen in a long time. And dark blue eyes that sparkled like polished gems, surrounded by thick black lashes a bit smudged from the heat, indicating they probably weren't naturally black, but still, the kind of eyes a man could get happily lost in.
If that wasn't enough, she also had an eye-catching figure a man could drool over. Plump breasts, a trim waist, gently rounded hips, and she wasn't too tall, not much more than a half foot shorter than he, which was rather ideal to his way of thinking. Her snappishness upon meeting him was understandable. She'd been abandoned in a near ghost town, had suffered through a train robbery before that, and Lord knew what else. For a gently reared lady, the West could be a harsh place, and she'd already experienced more than a fair share of the harsher side.
The least he could do was get her to the Twisting Barb without further incident. As for her sister, the schoolmarmish spinster—with those horrid spectacles she wore, he really couldn't think of her any other way. That wasn't kind, but after the insult she'd dealt him, he had no kind thoughts for her. They were as different as night and day, so much so that if you didn't know it, you'd never guess they were sisters. Both blond, yes, both blue-eyed and nicely shaped, but the resemblance stopped there.
Marian was obviously the older of the two, and probably made bitter over her spinsterish state. She was probably jealous of Amanda because her younger sister had gotten all the good looks in the family. She wore her hair in an ugly bun and pulled back so severely it was probably as painful as. She held herself stiffly, stomped about like a man, and had been dressed in dull dun gray. She might be able to pretty herself up some if she tried, but then again, with those spectacles that gave her a bug-eyed look, she probably figured there wasn't much point in trying.
She was the kind of gal that if she set her sights on a man, he'd be running in the opposite direction real quick. The less he thought of her, the better. The next morning just after dawn they rode out. The ladies weren't too happy about leaving at such an early hour, but it was necessary to reach the next depot before nightfall.
At least they were back on the regular stage route, so there should be extra depots along the way between towns for changing the horses and feeding the passengers, and if not, at least there would be designated areas for rest stops. The driver didn't seem worried about it, though he admitted he'd never driven the route toward Trenton.
Will Candles was a crusty individual in his late forties, hair gone to gray early, long handlebar mustache he was right proud of. He'd been driving stagecoaches for about ten years, and mule trains before that, so he knew his job well. Two days later, Chad had another unpleasant run-in with the spinster.
They stopped around midday at one of the better-run depots. It had a stable, a restaurant, offered a wide variety of trade goods, and even had lodgings in case of inclement weather.
The weather had remained good, and was growing a little cooler the farther they traveled northwest. The team was changed while they had lunch. There was a slight delay in leaving though because one of the fresh horses lost a shoe as it was led out to be hitched up. Since the depot only serviced one route, it only kept six horses on hand, so the shoe needed to be refitted if they wanted the fresh horse. Chad had tried to keep his distance from the ladies as much as possible, if for no other reason than he was attracted to Amanda Laton and traveling, with its attendant discomforts, wasn't a good time for romantic notions.
When she was at her new home and settled in, he would decide whether to act on that attraction. So he took his meals with Will, rather than with the ladies, and rode half of each day up on the coach with him, and the other half on his horse, but never inside the stage. Amanda and the maid, Ella Mae, had already boarded the coach when the horse lost his shoe, and elected to wait inside it.
Marian had been purchasing something in the general store and, unaware of the delay, probably thinking she was holding up their departure, came running out to the coach and ran right into Chad's back.
He thought nothing of it. She was a very clumsy woman, always bumping into things—and people. He simply moved out of her way. But she seemed all flustered by the accident and even seemed about to apologize, but then must have changed her mind. How the hell she could end up blaming him for it he couldn't guess, but she did. And it's not the first time. Is it something you developed as a child? Picking on other children with weaknesses? A very mean thing to do.
Outgrow it! He was so incredulous at being blamed by her for something that she knew was her fault, he was rendered speechless. And having insulted him thoroughly for the second time, she then yanked her skirt back away from him, as if it were in danger of getting contaminated, and flounced off. He almost yanked her back.