❝ Your crooked love is just a pyramid scheme. ❞ - Tamara, pennyatale
@pennyatale
“Is that what you think of me?” John asked as he took the young woman in with a thoughtful gaze. His head tilted to the side minutely. “That I say what you’d like to hear and then leave you high and dry when you’ve outlived your usefulness?”
A small ghost of a smile crossed over his face. “My dear, you’ve got the wrong politician. I am truly dedicated to the citizens of Cheyenne and all over Wyoming.”
pennyatale:
“Mayfield. Ms. Mayfield.” She pointedly refused to offer her first name knowing it would give away her career as a tavern girl and part-time wench in the brothel. It was a career that many looked down on though Tamara did not know why. It was a living, it paid for her rent and bought her food and it was honest, no stealing or conning. “And don’t give me that excuse, governor, the job market has nothing to do with the railroad. It has to to do with a stagnant economy. Look at what they’re doing in the East, they’re industrializing.”
It was in all of the newspapers and there were journals that could be picked up at the General Store that explained it all.
She had no concrete offering on how to fix that, she was not an economist after all and she certainly didn’t have any kind of formal schooling beyond the sixth grade.
“Textiles,” Tamara said after a beat. “Make textiles an enterprise here. Train people and export.”
John tipped his hat to her as she gave him part of her name, committing it to memory. He hadn’t seen her hovering around for long, but with as small as the capitol was at this point, he’d definitely taken notice of her presence even if she hadn’t demonstrated any reason for them to interact. She had slowly begun to make herself known to the people of Cheyenne working for Mickey McGinnes in his Saloon, as mentioned to John by his men, and while he didn’t think of her highly for it, he also didn’t see shame in it either. Work was work, and John had been known in his time to do work that would certainly place him a few pegs lower in many a mind.
“Industrializing,” he hummed, tilting his head down to glance at a speck of mud on his trousers, only half acknowledging her proposal. Industrialization was something he’d considered for a while, but with the construction of the railroad stealing their workforce, he was hard pressed to realistically make it work. “Now that is an idea, ma’am.” John’s eyes rose to meet hers once more, the tone in his voice ever so slightly patronizing. “I do enjoy the way you think. However-”
He paused at her interruption, his rebuttal cut off before it could begin. When she had finished her sentence, he remained in silence for just a second longer, mulling the idea over to himself.
“As of the moment, we lack the manpower. But... textiles. If we could bring in citizens not designated to the railroad, it may just be the economic boost Cheyenne has been in dire need of.” John’s gaze went out over the street, wheels turning in his head. He didn’t look at her when he spoke again:
“Are you in the market for a new employer, Ms. Mayfield?”
