Posted February 7, 2022 | Caroline Mundee
"I swear, Miss, but what's a looker like you doin' in a dump like this?" the man looked around the saloon.
"Dump? This ain't no dump," Caroline begged to differ.
"I guess it ain't so bad, but you look like you could be in one of them emporiums like they got in Dodge City."
"You don't say?" Caroline was used to just letting customers have their say as long as they didn't get personal or nasty. It was all just part of the job.
"Don't listen to him, Ma'am, said Jasper from his spot down the bar. "Sheeit! He don't know from Adam 'bout high class places."
Jake spun on him. "Shut your yap, Jasper, or I'll kick your ass all the way back to Bozeman."
Franklin, who'd heard the exchange, stepped forward. "Keep it clean, gents."
The J's looked at each other, and quieted. "Yeah Boss," Jasper said.
Caroline glanced then to Fortner not the three jaspers, "Boss huh? So these gents work for you? What exact kinda work do they do for ya if I might be so curious?"
Posted February 8, 2022 | Franklin Fortner
Franklin, who'd heard the exchange, stepped forward. "Keep it clean, gents."
The J's looked at each other, and quieted. "Yeah Boss," Jasper said.
Caroline glanced then to Fortner not the three jaspers, "Boss huh? So these gents work for you? What exact kinda work do they do for ya if I might be so curious?"
Quick! Damned quick, thought Fortner of Caroline's wit. "Hell no," he assured her. "These are cowpokes. I don't know if I could use them for much of anything except maybe to swamp out the saloon or run errands."
It was a close call.
Then Jasper spoke up, trying to save the day. "Nah. He ain't my boss .. I mean, I was figuring he was YOUR boss."
Jim Craven, the smartest of the three, bolted back his drink and then said, "Come on, boys. We got something we have to do. We can't be jawing here all day."
Jasper and Jake nodded. They all gathered their hats, slammed them on their heads and ambled out of the place. It would turn out to be a fortunate exit for Franklin Fortner.
"Well Caroline." Fortner started. "Do you go by any other name, like Carrie or anything like that? " To him, Caroline was about two syllables too many and, while a nice name, was a bit stuffy and formal.
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
Posted February 8, 2022 | Arabella Mudd
Jim Craven, the smartest of the three, bolted back his drink and then said, "Come on, boys. We got something we have to do. We can't be jawing here all day."
Jasper and Jake nodded. They all gathered their hats, slammed them on their heads and ambled out of the place. It would turn out to be a fortunate exit for Franklin Fortner.
As soon as Fortner's three stooges left the place, Arabella loosened up. Working in a place like the Stardust, you developed a sort of sixth sense for trouble, and boy had those three smelled like trouble! After playing mechanically and quietly for the duration of their visit, she now burst into a rousing plinking chorus of Dixie on the ivory keys and shouted, with heavy irony, "Hey, Caroline! Caroline! Listen, I'm playin' your favourite!" She knew that Caroline was a 'John Brown's Body' gal through and through.
"Well Caroline." Fortner started. "Do you go by any other name, like Carrie or anything like that? " To him, Caroline was about two syllables too many and, while a nice name, was a bit stuffy and formal.
Within seconds Arabella had twiddled round in her seat and leaped of, interspersing herself between the saloon owner and its star singer.
"That's a good idea!" she informed Fortner, wagging a finger to his long nose. "Like me, I got lotsa nicknames: some folks call me Arabella, or Ara' or 'Bella or Miss Mudd, or Muddy, or Mugwump, but some fellers call me Reb, or Sessesh, and my dear old Daddy, he called me Sump. But my favorite was this one feller, he come in here one night and we was soooooooo busy, and ever' feller was tryin' to get my attention to get a drink and this one feller, he says 'hey you, Bonny Blue Flag, what does a man need to do to get a drink round here' and I says 'just keep on callin' me that, mister' and I looked after that old feller good all night, believe you me Mr Fortner. Bonny Blue Flag, that just about tickled me pink!" she babbled on.
It was like the removal of those three unpleasant hombres had released a cork and she was fizzing out like a bottle of champagne.
"Now Caroline, we could call you..." she stared at the blonde with a frown of concentration for a few seconds, and then shook her head "Nope! She's just Caroline!" Then another thought struck the little Virginian.
"Anyhow, what's your nickname, Mr. Fortner?" she asked, cheekily.
Posted February 8, 2022 / Caroline Mundee
"Hell no," the man assured her. "These are cowpokes. I don't know if I could use them for much of anything except maybe to swamp out the saloon or run errands."
"Arabella swamps out the saloon, ya know," Caroline pointed that little fact out and she could not imagine why you'd want three men to run some silly errand. Well, lest it was to bushwhack someone on a road?
The men denied the connection also but were quick to end their little visit as if they couldn't wait to clear the joint. Soon they were gone and just as fast the piano music got lively. Ara was playing Dixie, deliberately trying to get her goat. She ignored the goofy girl. Had it been somebody else trying that though she would have reacted a whole lot more vehemently.
"Well Caroline." Fortner started. "Do you go by any other name, like Carrie or anything like that? "
The vivacious saloon gal looked up at him rather bemused.
"Um, actually..." and that was as far as she got with her attempted answer.
The flood that was Arabella was now in full flow.
"That's a good idea!" she informed Fortner, wagging a finger to his long nose. "Like me, I got lotsa nicknames: some folks call me Arabella, or Ara' or 'Bella or Miss Mudd, or Muddy, or Mugwump, but some fellers call me Reb, or Sessesh, and my dear old Daddy, he called me Sump. But my favorite was this one feller, he come in here one night and we was soooooooo busy, and ever' feller was tryin' to get my attention to get a drink and this one feller, he says 'hey you, Bonny Blue Flag, what does a man need to do to get a drink round here' and I says 'just keep on callin' me that, mister' and I looked after that old feller good all night, believe you me Mr Fortner. Bonny Blue Flag, that just about tickled me pink!"
That was quite the torrent, even for Ara. Caroline waited patiently though for her chance - hopefully.
"Now Caroline, we could call you..." Ara stared at the blonde with a frown of concentration for a few seconds, and then shook her head "Nope! She's just Caroline!"
Caroline decided she had her chance, better take it, "I happen to think Caroline is a real pretty name, boss. Don't you?"
"Anyhow, what's your nickname, Mr. Fortner?" Arabella asked, cheekily.
Posted February 11, 2022 / Franklin Fortner
"Well Caroline." Fortner started. "Do you go by any other name, like Carrie or anything like that? " To him, Caroline was about two syllables too many and, while a nice name, was a bit stuffy and formal.
It was Arabella's time to shine. For the past hour or so, she'd kept busy delighting the patron's with a torrent of Americana - finally ending with Dixie. It was done well and most of them appreciated its liveliness, though a couple of men, hardened Union veterans grimaced into their drink glasses and tried to remember the faces and names of comrades they'd buried.
Franklin Fortner was developing a feeling of brotherly affection and protection for Arabella. She reminded him of his dead sister and it made his heart rejoice. God help the man who ever attempted to hurt her or trifle with her feelings. He had the means to make their lives miserable.
It was Caroline, who had his immediate attention. "Well Caroline." Fortner started. "Do you go by any other name, like Carrie or anything like that? "
The vivacious saloon gal looked up at him rather bemused.
"Um, actually..." and that was as far as she got with her attempted answer.
The little eavesdropper came running up to them.
"That's a good idea!" she informed Fortner, wagging a finger to his long nose. "Like me, I got lotsa nicknames: some folks call me Arabella, or Ara' or 'Bella or Miss Mudd, or Muddy, or Mugwump, but some fellers call me Reb, or Sessesh, and my dear old Daddy, he called me Sump. But my favorite was this one feller, he come in here one night and we was soooooooo busy, and ever' feller was tryin' to get my attention to get a drink and this one feller, he says 'hey you, Bonny Blue Flag, what does a man need to do to get a drink round here' and I says 'just keep on callin' me that, mister' and I looked after that old feller good all night, believe you me Mr Fortner. Bonny Blue Flag, that just about tickled me pink!"
The stream of words bubbled up like a overflow from a cistern.
"Now Caroline, we could call you..." Ara stared at the blonde with a frown of concentration for a few seconds, and then shook her head "Nope! She's just Caroline!"
Caroline decided she had her chance, better take it, "I happen to think Caroline is a real pretty name, boss. Don't you?"
"It's lovely," he agreed. "I was just asking about it, wondering if you'd rather be called anything else?
"Anyhow, what's your nickname, Mr. Fortner?" Arabella asked, cheekily.
It was Fortner's turn to be silly, "A person can call me whatever they want to. Just don't call me late for supper." Then he turned to Arabella. "Hey! I've got a good nickname for you, Arabella," Frank began with a twinkle in his eye. "How about Chatterbox? "
~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Outside the doors of the saloon stood Horace Potee. He'd been Hellbent to go there, but once there, he stopped on the boardwalk, and reconsidered.
"You'll lose everything, Horace!" his wife shouted at him. Her words were like sword points, each one burrowing into this flesh. "And for what?" She continued. "This shack? This piece of ground? Look. We can start over. If this place goes bust we can always move on. But going into Kalispell to gamble all we have, all our seed money for next year, you're being a fool! You're just pissing it away."
His hands were clammy, and he wiped them on his overalls. When he looked down on them, he saw that they were still caked with soil from their homestead. In his pockets were the one-hundred and twenty dollars he'd saved from his last year's harvest. He needed it to buy seed and supplies for next year's planting. But what if he could double his money? Then their troubles would be over, at least for awhile. The wolf at the door would be at bay, at least for a year or two.
He had to take the chance, and with that, he pushed through the doors and entered the Star Dust.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Hiram Priest observed the stranger who entered the saloon from over the top of his spectacles. He didn't know the face, so he returned to his game of solitaire.
Horace tried to act nonchalantly, but it was difficult. Everyone looked far more turned-out then he did. There was no one else dressed in farmery, just him. He headed to the bar and gripped the edge of it while he ordered. "I'll take a whisky," he ordered before digging in his pocket for a quarter.
Fortner eyed the man from head to toe, then shrugged. "You know this guy?" he whispered to Caroline.
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
Posted February 11, 2022 / Arabella Mudd
"Anyhow, what's your nickname, Mr. Fortner?" Arabella asked, cheekily.
It was Fortner's turn to be silly, "A person can call me whatever they want to. Just don't call me late for supper."
Arabella screwed up her face and held her nose "Phweweee! That's a stinker, Mr. F." she cried.
Then he turned to Arabella. "Hey! I've got a good nickname for you, Arabella," Frank began with a twinkle in his eye. "How about Chatterbox? "
"Hey, I ain't a chatterbox, am I Cara'?" She didn't give Caroline a chance to reply.
"Onct upon a time, I used to run on a little, but then one day Mr Pettigrew said to me, he's sort o' my mentor see, he's groomin' me fer higher things, he says 'Miss Mudd, you are a vivacious and talented young woman, if a little rough around the edges, and one day you may well become the proverbial ugly duckling who blossoms into a beautiful swan, but first you must learn to speak less and listen more to what others have to say' and ever since that day I ain't talked half as much as I used to an' I always stop and listen to what other folks got to say even though it ain't usually half as interestin' as what I got to say and anyhow I gotta run along now and peel some spuds fer Cookie, see ya!"
She gave them a little wave goodbye and set off to the kitchen, but not before saying a cheery hello to Mr Potee, who was so caked in brown muck that he really did look like a potty, and spying a glimpse of a worried looking Mrs Potee, who she knew from church, standing quivering outside the swing doors.
Arabella swiftly changed course and popped her head out into the street.
"Oh, Mrs Potee, are you stood standin' out there waitin' fer Mr. P.?" she asked concerned - the woman looked at her wits' end. "Why don't you come round the back and wait in the kitchen while I does ma chores? We can have a nice chat and I'll make you a nice cup of tea and you can take the weight of your dawgs." she offered, for she was a kindly girl at heart.
Posted February 12, 2022 / Caroline Mundee
Caroline decided she had her chance, better take it, "I happen to think Caroline is a real pretty name, boss. Don't you?"
"It's lovely," Fortner agreed. "I was just asking about it, wondering if you'd rather be called anything else?"
"No, not really," Caroline shrugged, "Unless you wanna call me something else, yer the boss."
~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Some man now came in, she didn't know him but they'd had a bunch of strangers already this day. If she had to guess, the saloon girl figured him for a farmer though given his clothing and mud caked shoes.
The jasper headed to the bar and gripped the edge of it while he ordered. "I'll take a whisky," he ordered before digging in his pocket for a quarter.
"Comin' right up, mister," Ralph replied and got right on it.
Fortner eyed the man from head to toe, then shrugged. "You know this guy?" he whispered to Caroline.
Caroline turned her face away from the newcomer so only Fortner could see her, "Nope, I'm pretty sure he ain't come in here before...less it was before I got the job."
Posted February 13, 2022 ~*~ Franklin Fortner
Then he turned to Arabella. "Hey! I've got a good nickname for you, Arabella," Frank began with a twinkle in his eye. "How about Chatterbox? "
"Hey, I ain't a chatterbox, am I Cara'?" She didn't give Caroline a chance to reply.
"Once upon a time, I used to run on a little, but then one day Mr Pettigrew said to me, he's sort o' my mentor see, he's groomin' me fer higher things, he says 'Miss Mudd, you are a vivacious and talented young woman, if a little rough around the edges, and one day you may well become the proverbial ugly duckling who blossoms into a beautiful swan, but first you must learn to speak less and listen more to what others have to say' and ever since that day I ain't talked half as much as I used to an' I always stop and listen to what other folks got to say even though it ain't usually half as interestin' as what I got to say and anyhow I gotta run along now and peel some spuds fer Cookie, see ya!"
Frank nodded wearily; he was exhausted. How that girl runs on!
She gave them a little wave goodbye and set off to the kitchen, but not before saying a cheery hello to Mr Potee, who was so caked in brown muck that he really did look like a potty, and spying a glimpse of a worried looking Mrs Potee, who she knew from church, standing quivering outside the swing doors.
Horace Potee didn't acknowledge her. His mind was elsewhere, and so where his manners.
Arabella swiftly changed course and popped her head out into the street.
Mrs. Potee, who'd been wringing her hands, gasped. She hated to be startled. Oh. It's that Anabel girl! God! This is the last thing I need, she thought, dismally.
"Oh, Why don't you come round the back and wait in the kitchen while I does ma chores? We can have a nice chat and I'll make you a nice cup of tea and you can take the weight of your dawgs." she offered, for she was a kindly girl at heart.
In truth, it sounded like a nice invitation, and while she would NEVER grace the threshold of a saloon, a chat with the girl she knew from church might calm her. It would also give her an opportunity to caution her about employment in Satan's den.
"That's kindly of you, my dear," answered Maude. "That's sounds lovely. I'll walk around."
Back in the Star Dust, Caroline and Frank were feeling each other out, establishing some sort of rapport. Frank was anxious to get along with the staff. In time, he would need all the allies he could handle.
Caroline lounged at the bar with in a pose of comfort, as though she was to the saloon, born.
Some man now came in, she didn't know him but they'd had a bunch of strangers already this day. If she had to guess, the saloon girl figured him for a farmer though given his clothing and mud caked shoes.
The jasper headed to the bar and gripped the edge of it while he ordered. "I'll take a whisky," he ordered before digging in his pocket for a quarter.
"Comin' right up, mister," Ralph replied and got right on it.
Fortner eyed the man from head to toe, then shrugged. "You know this guy?" he whispered to Caroline.
Caroline turned her face away from the newcomer so only Fortner could see her, "Nope, I'm pretty sure he ain't come in here before...less it was before I got the job."
Frank nodded while keeping his eyes on the fellow. He had a look of desperation, a look that could spell trouble. Not one to be shy, Frank sidled closer to him.
"Howdy stranger," he said. "Welcome to the Star Dust."
Horace was instantly suspicious. In his World, no one peddled soft soap without some ulterior motive. And since he'd been the victim of swindles and had been hoodwinked by city slickers before, and this man sure looked like a slicker, his answer was guarded.
"Tolerable," Horace answered. "Ah.. you work here?"
Frank straighten and griped the lapels of his coat at a spot a bit below his chin. "I'm the new owner of the Star Dust, and it's my aim to get to know all our customers." He smiled disarmingly. "I'm Frank Fortner."
Horace looked at the man so well turned-out, and sadly remember his grubby work clothes. He did everything but offer an outright apology. If only he'd listened to Maude's advice about his shabby appearance before leaving for town!
"I'm sorry," he said as he stood back and pointed to his soiled work clothes. "I come from my farm in a hurry and ..well .. I had a mighty thirst."
"No need to apologize." Frank hastened to assure the man. "We welcome anyone who puts their money down for a whisky. Hell, if we only served liquor to men in their Sunday best, we'd be out of business in a hurry. Isn't that right, Ralph?"
Horace offered a quick, half-hearted smile. "Thanks Mister Fortner," he answered. "My name's Horace Potee. I have a place north of town, me and the wife and my girl."
Fortner's eyes froze, as did his smile. His heart pounded, thud - thud, in his chest. It couldn't have been more perfect than if it'd been written in a play. So this was the stubborn sod buster named Potee, their mark. Beautiful! Just beautiful!
"Welcome to Kalispell's best watering hole, Mr. Potee!" Frank said grandly, and quickly heard Hiram Priest choke from his table in the corner. "You have to meet our nightingale, Miss Caroline! The place wouldn't be the place it is without her."
"Howdy, Ma'am," Horace managed. He didn't know anything about women. He'd been married for 20 years, and he was quite flustered.
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
Posted February 13, 2022 ~*~ Arabella Mudd
By taking a more direct route through the Saloon building, Arabella got to the kitchen quicker than Mrs Potee, of course, and by the time there was a timid knock on the back door she had already gotten the kettle on the range.
"Oh just come in, Mrs Potee, you don't have to knock none!" she chirruped happily as she opened the door to the poor woman. "I got the kettle on, don't mind me if I sit'n peel these spuds. Say, do you want some warmed through corn pone 'n' chitlins? There's only me and Mammy Cookie'll eat it, rest of these yankees here don't understand it." she rattled on, bringing over a bowl of water, a sharp knife and a sack of potatoes.
She took one out to start work on.
"Hey, this looks muddier than Mister Potee!" she smiled "... how come he's in here anyhow, Mrs P? He don't normally come in here much, and I ain't just sayin' that because that's what we always tell fellers' wives, cause he really doesn't!" she put the knife and half-peeled tuber down on the table, put one hand on her heart and the other up in front of her, like she was taking the oath in court. "May my Mother burn in Hell if I tell a lie!"
Posted February 13, 2022 ~*~ Caroline Mundee
Her boss now took up conversation with the sod buster so Caroline just leaned against the bar and listened. When Fortner asked Ralph for affirmation about one of his remarks the bartender had a quick response, "Yessir."
Caroline had to give it to Fortner, he was a smooth one, very friendly, just one of the folks sort of way about him. Whether that was all an act, she couldn't tell.........yet. Besides even if it was, so what? She was guilty of the same, constantly having to pretend she liked sometimes dirty, ugly, even unpleasant customers and keeping up that smile of hers. It was the business both she and Fortner were in.
"Welcome to Kalispell's best watering hole, Mr. Potee!" Frank said grandly, and quickly heard Hiram Priest choke from his table in the corner. "You have to meet our nightingale, Miss Caroline! The place wouldn't be the place it is without her."
Oops, that was her cue, Caroline's light up a room smile instantly reappeared as she stopped leaning against the bar.
"Howdy, Ma'am," Horace managed.
"And howdy to you, Mr. Potee. My boss is too kind," Caroline started.
"Yeah, don't you worry about yer outfit, yer a workin' man, you get some dirt on ya. We don't care around here as long as yer money is good," she added, those big eyes of hers solely focused on his as if he was the only person in the whole joint, "We're a friendly bunch, hon."