Posted April 3, 2022 / Caroline Mundee
Sure enough the soon to be plucked Potee won the first hand of their second round and her boss pretended to be frazzled about it, Caroline just watched. She didn't like this much at all but the saloon was her life and she would do as she was told.
OuuuuEEEE!" cried the Sod buster. "I ain't never seen anything like THAT before! Have you, Miss Caroline?" he asked Caroline.
Before she could answer, Arabella had to make a snide remark.
"Oh, there ain't much Miss Mundee hasn't seen or done, is there Caro'?" Arabella butted in, her hand on Mr Potee's shoulder in true saloon girl style.
Caroline shot her a dagger look but refrained from a comment. What was bothering the girl now that she was sniping at her?
Fortner loosened his tie.
"Ralph!" he called. "Can you get us a fresh deck of cards?"
There he went again, their boss still didn't get the boundaries of the people at work in this place. Ralph was a bartender, he worked the bar and if necessary was the bouncer. He did not run out drinks to the tables nor should he be expected to run errands like this. Sure enough Arabella had to stick her big mouth into it.
"What's wrong with these'uns?" asked Arabella loudly, then to Mr Potee. "Them's your lucky cards: if you swap, your luck'll go to Devil: I'd get out of this game now if I were you!" she advised.
Caroline sighed and announced, "I'll get ya another pack, boss." Then she spun about and headed for the bar where they did extra cards in unopened packages. Miss Devereau never wanted anything to do with marked decks.
Posted April 4, 2022 / Franklin Fortner
There he went again, their boss still didn't get the boundaries of the people at work in this place. Ralph was a bartender, he worked the bar and if necessary was the bouncer. He did not run out drinks to the tables nor should he be expected to run errands like this. Sure enough Arabella had to stick her big mouth into it.
"What's wrong with these'uns?" asked Arabella loudly, then to Mr Potee. "Them's your lucky cards: if you swap, your luck'll go to Devil: I'd get out of this game now if I were you!" she advised.
"Oh, I don't know, Arabella," Fortner mused. "Seems to me they're light a Queen or three. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?" It was true. Fortner, being somewhat of a cardsharp, knew pretty quickly where most of the high value cards were. He didn't want to make a big deal about it because he didn't want to spook Potee.
Caroline sighed and announced, "I'll get ya another pack, boss." Then she spun about and headed for the bar where they did extra cards in unopened packages. Miss Devereau never wanted anything to do with marked decks.
"Thanks, Caroline," Frank said, realizing the position he'd put the bartender in. "Sorry, Ralph!" he called.
Potee, impatient to continue his winning streak, drummed his fingers on the table. Then, to Arabella, he said, "I ain't superstitious about gambling, so I don't care if'n he gets new cards. But say, do have a lucky charm on you, like a rabbit's foot of something like that?"
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
Posted April 5, 2022 / Arabella Mudd
"Oh, I don't know, Arabella," Fortner mused. "Seems to me they're light a Queen or three. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?" It was true.
"Uh?" grunted Arabella, and then remembered she'd removed them for the game of Old Maid. "Oh yeah!" she beamed pulling the three ladies in question out of her apron pocket "Three of a Kind! And there's the two kickers!" she added, stomping her heavy boots on the saloon floor. "You know, Mister Potee, some people call me The Queen of Hearts, cause everybody loves me so much, but I'm more like the Queen of Spades, she's a real Femme Fatale!" she informed the simple yokel.
Caroline sighed and announced, "I'll get ya another pack, boss." Then she spun about and headed for the bar where they did extra cards in unopened packages. Miss Devereau never wanted anything to do with marked decks.
"Thanks, Caroline," Frank said, realizing the position he'd put the bartender in. "Sorry, Ralph!" he called.
"Yeah, you'll be stompin' on everyone's toes Mr F. if you don't know: Ralph just serves the drinks and thumps the drunks; Caro just sings the songs and drinks the drinks; Cookie just cooks the food; and I do every blessed other thing in this place! And I guess you just sorta watch us doin' it all day long." Arabella explained, helpfully.
Potee, impatient to continue his winning streak, drummed his fingers on the table. Then, to Arabella, he said, "I ain't superstitious about gambling, so I don't care if'n he gets new cards. But say, do have a lucky charm on you, like a rabbit's foot of something like that?"
Arabella nodded, and produced a very disreputable looking handkerchief which bore the evidence off a few years' worth of colds, runny noses, sneezes, nosebleeds and stubborn boogers. "This is my binky, it's the only thing I still got what I brought out of Virginia. It's the most precious thing I got after my bible." she told him.
"But you can't have that. How 'bout this. This French feller from Canada came in one time last month or so and give me this, my binky's good enough luck fer me, so you can have it." she rummaged in her apron pocket and handed him a small silver charm, shaped like a pig with a little heart on it. "He said it was a..." she frowned trying to remember "... a 'porte boneur' and that I was a fille à l'air étrange whatever the heck that means."
Posted April 6, 2022 / Horace Potee
"Oh, I don't know, Arabella," Fortner mused. "Seems to me they're light a Queen or three. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?" It was true.
Arabella reached in her pocket and retrieved the lost queens, it didn't matter to Fortner. You couldn't have the miasma of crookedness hovering over a card game --- even if it was crooked. Everything had to be above board -- sort of. That's why Fortner asked Ralph for a new deck of cards.
It didn't seem to phase Arabella who was never at a loss for folksy bromides that gave the illusion of problem solving.
"You know, Mister Potee, some people call me The Queen of Hearts, cause everybody loves me so much, but I'm more like the Queen of Spades, she's a real Femme Fatale!" she informed the simple yokel.
"I dunno what that means, Missy," Potee declared, and so loudly that it turned heads at some nearby tables.
Caroline sighed and announced, "I'll get ya another pack, boss." Then she spun about and headed for the bar where they did extra cards in unopened packages. Miss Devereau never wanted anything to do with marked decks.
"Thanks, Caroline," Frank said, realizing the position he'd put the bartender in. "Sorry, Ralph!" he called.
"Yeah, you'll be stompin' on everyone's toes Mr F. if you don't know: Ralph just serves the drinks and thumps the drunks; Caro just sings the songs and drinks the drinks; Cookie just cooks the food; and I do every blessed other thing in this place! And I guess you just sorta watch us doin' it all day long." Arabella explained, helpfully.
Franklin Fortner nodded but said nothing. His mind was on some soon-to-happen fleecing.
Potee, impatient to continue his winning streak, drummed his fingers on the table. Then, to Arabella, he said, "I ain't superstitious about gambling, so I don't care if'n he gets new cards. But say, do have a lucky charm on you, like a rabbit's foot of something like that?"
Arabella nodded, and produced a very disreputable looking handkerchief which bore the evidence off a few years' worth of colds, runny noses, sneezes, nosebleeds and stubborn boogers. "This is my binky, it's the only thing I still got what I brought out of Virginia. It's the most precious thing I got after my bible." she told him.
Arabella was no quieter than Potee was, and a voice from the depths of the saloon began singing, "Carry me back to old Virginie."
"But you can't have that. How 'bout this. This French feller from Canada came in one time last month or so and give me this, my binky's good enough luck fer me, so you can have it." she rummaged in her apron pocket and handed him a small silver charm, shaped like a pig with a little heart on it. "He said it was a..." she frowned trying to remember "... a 'porte boneur' and that I was a fille à l'air étrange whatever the heck that means."
"Ah Hell no, Lil Darlin'," Horace protested. "All I gotta do is touch it and the luck will rub off." He then reached over and rubbed the charm with his grubby fingers. "I aim to be King of the World after this game is over. Oh, and don't be wastin' yer time with any French fellers. They're a bad lot disguising their wicked ways with fancy talk." Then, as if jolted back to reality by liquor driven greed, he asked, "Where the hell are those cards!"
Posted April 7, 2022 / Caroline Mundee
Things weren't really like Arabella said but then the girl lived in her own rather slanted little world. Maybe Fortner was catching on to just tune her out like both Ralph and Caroline had quite some time ago.
"Where the hell are those cards!" bellowed the drunk, who obviously was in a real hurry to be separated from his money.
"Oh hold yer horses, here's the deck, boss," Caroline handed it over to Fortner.
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
Posted April 8, 2022 / Arabella Mudd
Arabella had never seen anyone rub silver and make it go duller, but Horace Potee managed to do it to her little pig charm! Oh well, she gave it another rub on her pinny and got it all nice and shiny again, before adding in back into the pile of junk in her apron pocket.
Caroline got the cards and she watched carefully as the singer gave them to Mr Fortner. Arabella knew she should really go and get on with her chores, but she was magnetically drawn to watch the match of wits, cunning and experienced sleight of hand on one side against... well, against Mr Potee (and a three-sheets-to-the-wind Mr Potee, at that!) on the other. The only thing the poor ign'rant sod buster seemed to have on his side was a quick rub of Arabella's porc and whatever luck she could bring by standing at his shoulder.
Posted April 8, 2022 / Franklin Fortner
"Where the hell are those cards!" bellowed the drunk, who obviously was in a real hurry to be separated from his money.
Caroline got the cards and she watched carefully as the singer gave them to Mr Fortner. Arabella knew she should really go and get on with her chores, but she was magnetically drawn to watch the match of wits, cunning and experienced sleight of hand on one side against... well, against Mr Potee (and a three-sheets-to-the-wind Mr Potee, at that!) on the other. The only thing the poor ign'rant sod buster seemed to have on his side was a quick rub of Arabella's porc and whatever luck she could bring by standing at his shoulder.
The serpent was about to strike, but there was just one problem: Arabella. She saw EVERYTHING, and she had an indiscreet tongue. Franklin needed to shoo her away before too long. He would find a reason.
"Okay, Horace. Are you ready?" Fortner asked after he took the seal off the deck of cards.
"Sure as shootin' Mr. Fortner," answered the sloppy drunk. "I'm a figuring that after another few hands of this game, I'll catch me the next train to Easy Street. No more plows, no more chores, no more hard times, no more Maude... Oops! did I just say that?" It tickled him so much that he began to laugh uproariously. "I'm a new man today!"
"Cut!" Franklin said after he shuffled.
Horace obliged ... and then, quite deftly, Franklin cut them too. There was nothing illegal in that -- not much.
The cards flew across the table and landed in front of Potee who clumsily gathered them to his chest. And what did he find? --- Three fives, two nines and a Jack. The betting which ensued was furious. It was obvious that Fortner had good cards, too, but, in the end, Horace won yet another hand.
"Wahoo!" the homesteader cried as his raked the pot over to his large bank.
Fortner looked appropriately disgusted at the events. That was when he turned to Caroline and asked, "Will you get us some coffee, please. I hear you serve the best coffee in Kalispell." He turned to Potee. "Will you be wanting some coffee, Mr. Potee?"
"Sounds good, but," he turned to Caroline, "could you spike it a bit, hon?"
Horace never felt better in his life.
Posted April 11, 2022 / Caroline Mundee
The cards flew across the table and landed in front of Potee who clumsily gathered them to his chest. And what did he find? --- Three fives, two nines and a Jack. The betting which ensued was furious. It was obvious that Fortner had good cards, too, but, in the end, Horace won yet another hand.
"Wahoo!" the homesteader cried as his raked the pot over to his large bank.
What the hell? What kind of card sharp was Fortner that he couldn't even beat a drunkard? Caroline was thinking he should just stick to owning the saloon.
Fortner looked appropriately disgusted at the events. That was when he turned to Caroline and asked, "Will you get us some coffee, please. I hear you serve the best coffee in Kalispell."
He definitely heard wrong there, but of course Caroline merely smiled and nodded. She was roped into this mess and now she'd have to do what her boss wanted.
He turned to Potee. "Will you be wanting some coffee, Mr. Potee?"
"Sounds good, but," he turned to Caroline, "could you spike it a bit, hon?"
"Oh you bet, dahling," Caroline's smile looked heartfelt but that's only because she was such a good faker at it.
Caroline then headed for the back kitchen. Her part in this would take a few minutes. For one thing she wasn't about to give the man hot coffee, not the way he was going to get this cup alright. As for wasting booze on it, she could just thin it with cold water.
Posted April 12, 2022 / Franklin Fortner
He turned to Potee. "Will you be wanting some coffee, Mr. Potee?"
"Sounds good, but," he turned to Caroline, "could you spike it a bit, hon?"
"Oh you bet, dahling," Caroline's smile looked heartfelt but that's only because she was such a good faker at it.
Potee slapped his hands together and rubbed them; Life couldn't be better.
Caroline then headed for the back kitchen. Her part in this would take a few minutes. For one thing she wasn't about to give the man hot coffee, not the way he was going to get this cup alright. As for wasting booze on it, she could just thin it with cold water.
Franklin Fortner gathered the cards and began to shuffle them. This, he elevated it to a fine art. In his hands, the cards flashed like the wings of butterflies. In a series of pirouette-like maneuvers, the saloon owner fanned them and then joined them until he made a neat stack of them.
"Cut," he ordered once he'd slid the cards across to Horace.
"Yessir, Frank!" Potee agreed with, now, slobbering familiarity and made an elaborate show of cutting the deck - twice. While he did this, Fortner stared at him with the quiet, steady patience of a cougar ready to pounce.
When ready, Fortner dealt the cards with deliberate efficiency.
Potee, instead of waiting for all five cards to arrive, picked them up after each one of them landed in front of him. His delight was manifest in slack-mouthed disbelief. What he had in his hands before the any draw were three Jacks, a Nine of diamonds, and a Five of clubs.
Potee turned to Arabella.
"Could I touch that good luck piece again?"
Fortner did not register any emotions as he arranged his cards in his hands. He had three Aces, a Seven of hearts, ... and a Jack of diamonds, just like he knew there would be.
"How's that coffee coming?" he shouted to Caroline.
"Bet?" he asked Potee.
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
Posted April 13, 2022 / Arabella Mudd
Caroline was going to make coffee?! She certainly drank enough of it, especially the 'morning after': but it was always Cookie, or Arabella herself, or even Mr Flandry, who would make it. Did Caroline even know how to make coffee? Yeah, of course she must, but Arabella was tempted to go with her and make sure she did it right, or even do it for her. Then she remembered that there would a pot kept permanently hot on the hob in there anyway. She hoped Caroline would remember to use a cloth to pick it up, the handle would be uncomfortably warm.
All well and good: she could remain and be Mr Potee's black haired 'Lucky Blonde'.Mr Fortner picked up the new deck and did all sorts of leger de main with the deck that made a plain old Riverboat Shuffle look like a Pickleboat Scuffle.
Franklin Fortner gathered the cards and began to shuffle them. This, he elevated it to a fine art. In his hands, the cards flashed like the wings of butterflies. In a series of pirouette-like maneuvers, the saloon owner fanned them and then joined them until he made a neat stack of them.
"Cut," he ordered once he'd slid the cards across to Horace.
Potee, instead of waiting for all five cards to arrive, picked them up after each one of them landed in front of him. His delight was manifest in slack-mouthed disbelief. What he had in his hands before the any draw were three Jacks, a Nine of diamonds, and a Five of clubs.
Potee turned to Arabella.
"Could I touch that good luck piece again?"
Arabella fished out the silver pig for the farmer, but frowned at the hand - three of a kind and a couple of kickers: not bad, and in the normal run of things a probable win. On the other hand, there were a lot of other combinations that could beat it. While Potee rubbed her pig, she frowned at Fortner. Boy, she wouldn't play snap for matchsticks with feller whose moustache was that thin. Mr Potee must be a stupid as he looked. The whole thing was making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
Fortner did not register any emotions as he arranged his cards in his hands. He had three Aces, a Seven of hearts, ... and a Jack of diamonds, just like he knew there would be.
"How's that coffee coming?" he shouted to Caroline.
Yeah, where was Caroline? Even she couldn't take this long to pour a simple cup of coffee and pour a glug of licker into it.
"Bet?" he asked Potee.
Fortner was so bland, so smooth; Arabella, without even thinking about it, gave a warning squeeze to Potee's shoulder, then, more decisively yelped "Let me give you a kiss fer luck!" and bent down to give him a smacker on his stubbly cheek.
I think you should fold she hissed in his ear.