Posted May 31, 2022 / Franklin Fortner
At the very moment when Franklin Fortner and Marshall Guyer were in discussions, some of the men, dispatched from the Star Dust, arrived at the Potee homestead. They came upon Horace who was curled up in prenatal position in front of the cabin steps. The door was opened to the cabin's interior where the slowly twisting figure of Mrs. Potee hung.
Within thirty minutes, the men had cut down the tragic figure of Maude Potee and loaded her on a buckboard. Rigor mortis had set in, and she was difficult to lay flat properly. When Horace finally had the strength to stand up, he staggered over the buckboard and saw Maude scornfully glaring at him. The men covered her up, but it was a vision that would never leave him. So, in the months and years ahead, whenever he thought of Maude, which was often, he always saw her stare of condemnation.
Mounted, and ready to leave for town with the corpse, one of the men slapped the ass of the mare pulling the wagon.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Fortner slapped the empty whiskey glass on the bar and asked Guyer if there was anything else he needed to know.
"I've got a business to run, so if we could wrap this up, I'd be obliged."
"The law is the law."
"Mining's not everyone's choice of hobbies, it just happens to be mine."
Posted June 1, 2022 / Henry Guyer
"No sir, I believe that will do. Just part of the job Mister Fortner, thanks for your time." Speed said with a smile. "If I should need anything else, I'll stop in. You boys have a good day." He nodded and started for the doorway smiling at Arabella and touching the brim of his hat.
Pushing through the bat wings he stepped out into the fading afternoon sunlight. His plan to ride to the ranch of the Poteet's would have to wait, A though ran though his head, why would a family man be in the saloon drinking and playing cards? And what were the stakes, though the question answered itself.
Why would anyone want the land the the farm sat on? Well, there was an answer to that question as well. It was his business to know about mineral discoveries, and such a discovery by the unscrupulous might well lead to any number criminal intentions.
Address me as Hon. Hiram Priest, esq.
Posted June 3, 2022 / Hiram Priest
After the Marshall left, things at the Star Dust quieted down a bit. It was a good opportunity for Hiram Priest to make his way to the bar.
"Think the Marshall will be any trouble?" Priest whispered in Fortner's ear once Hannaberry left.
"I don't know. Seems like he won't make a big case out of it. Potee is small potatoes; not worth anyone's time. But who the Hell would have figured his missus would have stretched her own neck? That's a complication we could have done without."
Hiram tugged at his chin. "We can't move too fast on the *you-know-what* or it'll raise suspicions for sure," the wily Priest added.
Fortner nodded in agreement, then added, "In a couple of weeks we'll send one of our agents to Cheyenne to engage a mining engineer to give us an idea of what it'll cost to get an operation off the ground."
Priest rolled some chaw from one cheek to another. "Yep" he finally said.
"So where the Hell is Arabella?" Fortner asked. "She is one pain in the ass. I need to talk to her."
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
Posted June 7, 2022 / Arabella Mudd
"So where the Hell is Arabella?" Fortner asked. "She is one pain in the ass. I need to talk to her."
Speak of the Devil, the girl from the mountains came back in right then, having been to Jolly's. She wanted to avoid Fortner and Priest if possible, but she needed to report in about Mrs Potee. She approached the pair with a disingenuous smile.
"Howdy Mr F." she said, feigning a familiar affection for the snake. "I just been over to Jolly's, him and the boy Raymond were just setting off with their little cart. He asked if I can please go over there tonight and help wash and dress poor Mrs Potee." she asked on the undertaker's behalf. "Seein' as she ain't got no kinfolks what's ladies round here." Normally a female relative would do that task.
Tomorrow, Arabella would make her escape from Fortner's clutches. She would move in with Bridget. She would start work regular for Jolly and she and Miriam could really start saving for New York. But for now, she had to act like everything was normal.
Posted June 10, 2022 / Franklin Fortner
Speak of the Devil, the girl from the mountains came back in right then, having been to Jolly's. She wanted to avoid Fortner and Priest if possible, but she needed to report in about Mrs Potee. She approached the pair with a disingenuous smile.
When Priest saw her heading their way, he said headed back to his table and his cards.
Fortner faced her, his hands clasping his coat lapels.
"Howdy Mr F." she said, feigning a familiar affection for the snake. "I just been over to Jolly's, him and the boy Raymond were just setting off with their little cart. He asked if I can please go over there tonight and help wash and dress poor Mrs Potee." she asked on the undertaker's behalf. "Seein' as she ain't got no kinfolks what's ladies round here." Normally a female relative would do that task.
"Look it," Fortner said icily. "I don't much give a damn what you do with that hag. I've got a business to run and you've been throwing wrenches in the works all day. Now I don't know what you saw or what you THINK you saw, but that stupid sodbuster got so drunk he drove his hag to the grave and then he lost his homestead."
He turned and bolted back the remainder of his whiskey and continued.
"I've been nothing but nice to you. I've let you have the run of the place. Hell! You did whatever you wanted; played the piano, sang, worked in the kitchen, whatever you did you didn't have anyone on your back about it. Hiram over there tells me you've been spinning tales and suppositions about what went on here today, and Mr. F don't like it."
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
Posted June 10, 2022 / Arabella Mudd
Arabella told Mr Fortner about Jolly's request to help with Mrs Potee's mortal remains, but her heart thumped in her chest and her palms sweated as he rounded on her.
"Look" Fortner said icily. "I don't much give a damn what you do with that hag. I've got a business to run and you've been throwing wrenches in the works all day. Now I don't know what you saw or what you THINK you saw, but that stupid sodbuster got so drunk he drove his hag to the grave and then he lost his homestead."
"Yeah, sure, I know!" she stammered, inadvertently stepping back.
He turned and bolted back the remainder of his whiskey and continued.
"I've been nothing but nice to you. I've let you have the run of the place. Hell! You did whatever you wanted; played the piano, sang, worked in the kitchen, whatever you did you didn't have anyone on your back about it. Hiram over there tells me you've been spinning tales and suppositions about what went on here today, and Mr. F don't like it."
She shot Priest a glance, he had the look of a satisfied snake on his ugly old face, one that had a big lump in its body where it had just swallowed a poor helpless prairie dog whole. She felt frightened half to death, but the inner actress in her somehow managed to pull it together and carry on in role. She plastered an apologetic smile on her face even though her legs felt wobblily below her.
"I'm sorry, Mr. F., you're right. Everyone knows what a silly pain in the you-know-where I am. I'm a awful liability to you workin' here. I bet you'll be glad to see the back of me when I move out, tomorrow. Oooh, you did remember what Mrs Devereau said about me leavin' soon didn't you?" she asked, disingenuously. "I mean, I hope she told you. I'm going to work at Mr Jolly's permanent like, Mrs Devereau just wanted me to come back and play the pianna fer Caroline in the evenings. And I can't spread no stupid rumours when I'm doin' that. Oh, I'm awful sorry for making those things up about Mr Potee, probably just trying to get attention for myself, you know what us silly little girls is like." she simpered, wondering if she was overdoing it a little.
"I hope you forgive me. And I'll never do it again." she finished, looking close to tears and wringing her hands. She though that was a nice touch, wringing her hands, though she'd rather be wringing his neck.
Posted June 12, 2022 / Franklin Fortner
Franklin was unmoved by his employee's apology. Far too much planning, law breaking and luck had gotten him and Priest this close to success to have a chatterbox split tail ruin it for them now.
It was news to him that she was planning on working for the Undertaker, but he was glad. It saved him having to fire her and come off looking like a villain.
"I hope you forgive me. And I'll never do it again." she finished, looking close to tears and wringing her hands. She though that was a nice touch, wringing her hands, though she'd rather be wringing his neck.
"Just make sure you don't, he warned.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~
That night, up in his office, Fortner and Hiram Priest were in close discussion about what their next steps would be.
They came to a decision that neither of them could be seen as swooping in and finding the vein of gold. It would sure as Hell raise suspicions about the origins of their good luck.
What they would do is form a Company as silent owners/partners. It would be the Montana Mining and Timber Consortium. They would sign up some people as investors, but the two conspirators would own all shares of stock, 50-50.
"If we get some decent townsfolk in on it, they would appreciate the dividends if we hit a lode," Priest conjectured, as though there was any question that they'd hit a lode.
"Who can we get to be the salesman? We can't be seen as having a hand in it," Fortner asked.
Priest rubbed his chin before stuffing more tobacco in his cheeks. "We can get Addison Whitworth," he concluded once he could talk. "He's the perfect salesman, Franklin."
It had been a long day. Priest went out the back to head to his hotel room, and Franklin headed back downstairs to finish things up.
The place was deserted, it being 1 a.m.. Only Ralph was there, behind the counter, tidying things up. So, Franklin went over and leaned heavily on it.
"Ralph. Why don't we have a nightcap? Break out the good stuff."
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
Posted June 13, 2022 / Arabella Mudd
"I hope you forgive me. And I'll never do it again." she finished, looking close to tears and wringing her hands. She though that was a nice touch, wringing her hands, though she'd rather be wringing his neck.
"Just make sure you don't" he warned.
"Yes Sir, Mr. Fortner." she nodded obediently, and scuttled away: picking up some empty beer glasses as an excuse to go and wash them in the kitchen and hide away from the threatening owner of the saloon and his cronies.
It was entirely possible that Fortner was fooling her, of course, she would put nothing past that man. But she took comfort in the old adage: you can't kid a kidder.
Once she felt safe from him, busily washing up the glasses to Mr. Flandry's exacting standards, she had to face a new enemy: her own conscience. She was escaping, but leaving the other three in the lurch. Ralph and Cookie were big enough and ugly enough to look after themselves, she told herself. But Caroline? Caroline bothered her. Arabella told herself that by establishing an escape route to the outside world for the singer if she should need it, she was doing her a favour. But in reality, she knew the truth, and the truth was that she was running away and deserting her friend on the battlefield of life.
A thousand lines of conversation ran through her head "Caroline'll be all right, she's tough!" "She wouldn't wanna leave here anyway!" "Hey, I'm coming back to play the pianna for her, I'm not really desertin' her!" Who was she talking to? Jesus? Herself? Some imagined accuser in the days to come? Probably all of them. She would have to tell Caroline tonight, get it off her chest, or she would never sleep.