Posted February 20, 2022 ~*~ Horace Potee
Franklin looked grave. "Claim jumping .. or I guess homestead jumping sounds like a serious offense, mister. But maybe they were just cowpokes passing through and trying to have a little fun?"
Caroline now thought she knew why Fortner called that trio of skunks his employees, it was all making more sense now.
Horace scratched his head. "I dunno. I dunno." he repeated. "Anyway, I ought'n to be bothering you with my troubles, Miss," he said to Caroline. "You must get a lot of complainers comin' in here and you're probably tired of it."
Caroline sipped her 'whiskey', "You ain't botherin' me none. The only customers I don't like is the mean kind. And they don't get to stay in the place fer long, trust me. Yer just fine, hon. My advice is just relax and don't go gettin' all upset about things. Life goes on."
Horace did something he hadn't done in a long, long time; He smiled. It wasn't exactly a winning smile what with two missing teeth; an incisor and a front tooth, but this girl made him feel so good, so manly and even a bit desirable.
"I hope they treat you good here, ma'am .. er.. miss," he ventured, now a knight defending a princess.
Frank, who'd been leaning on the bar and facing towards Ralph, said, "She'll get every penny she earns. You can count on that Mr. Potee."
By now the farmer was beginning to feel the effects of the two drinks. "I don't know where they make this panther juice, but it beats the homemade stuff from jug that someone hands me. "Barkeep! ", he said now with a touch of bravado. "Another drink for me and the lady!"
Potee's burst of bonhomie caused Hiram Priest to a pause, mid-play, and watch the mark carefully. A slight smile creased his lips.
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
Posted February 21, 2022 ~*~ Arabella Mudd
"Oh there are so many, .. er ... Anabella? One of my favorites is Bringing In the Sheaves. Oh, and I also like A Mighty Fortress Is Our God."
"Oh you know all the latest ones Mrs P.! Yeah, I know both of them!" beamed Arabella and gave Maude a quick burst of the former hymn, written a mere two years ago, and making the common mistake:
"Bringin' in the sheep
Bringin' in the sheep
We shall come rejoicing
Bringing in the sheep"
Well, the words might be wrong, but Arabella had a nice signing voice which clearly affected Mrs Potee: Her hand went swiftly to her bosom. "Can I please beg you for a touch more water?"
"That water don't cool you down, Mrs P. Here, I'm gonna make you a nice cup of tea, don't worry, it ain't unpatriotic no matter what they say. See, it's hot, so it makes you sweat and that cools you down. Look at me..." by way of illustration, she held up her arm to display a nice big dark sweat patch on the armpit of her grey smock.
"I haven't seen you in church, lately, Dear," Maude said. There was no hint of disapproval in her tone, just a statement of fact. "I suppose they keep you quite busy here. Don't they?"
"Oh they work me like a slave" declared Arabella as she put the tea into the pot and poured in some boiling water. "And my friend Cookie really was a slave and she says it weren't half so bad being a real slave as workin' here, 'cept Mr Fortner don't whip us. But anyhow, yeah, I'm not surprised you noticed I weren't there last Sunday, what with me usually puttin' out the prayer books, an' playin' the harmonium and doin' the responses..." Arabella, raised on 'enthusiastic' Southern Camp Meetings had a habit of shouting out 'I hear you brother!' 'Praise the Lord!' and "Testified!" at seemingly random times during the Reverend Evans' otherwise dry and tame services "... an' collectin' up all the hymn books at the end."
She gave the teapot a swirl, to encourage the flavor out.
"Anyhow, last Sunday, I did a act of charity, just like what Jesus woulda done" being a Methodist, Arabella made sure she did a Christ-like Act every day of the week and twice on Sundays, even if her interpretation of what constituted a 'Christ-like Act' might be open to theological debate.
"See, this friend o' mine Bridget Monahan, you know, that simple girl with the wooden leg and the ginger hair? Well, alongside them there problems, she's also a Catholic...." Arabella fair whispered that last unwelcome word "... so some Sundays I takes her up to the Mission Church near the lake. Don't worry, I don't go in with her myself, well, not since that Father Ignatius feller banned banned me, just cause I made a few corrections to their 'Catholic Ladder' picture they got there - do you know, it shows Protestants not gettin' into heaven! Well believe me sister, I got my pencil to that there picture and drew us taking the direct route!"
"Also, I went in the little box with Bridget to help her, and that old Ignatius feller says through the chicken wire 'Confess your sins child' and I says 'she ain't sinned, it's you what's goin' round dressed up like a lady, you're the one ought to be kneelin' on dried peas and saying hail Mary."
As she chatted on, the tea brewed and Arabella poured a cup for Maude.
Posted February 21, 2022 ~*~ Caroline Mundee
"I hope they treat you good here, ma'am .. er.. miss," Potee ventured.
"Awww, how sweet of you to worry about little ol' me, but I'm treated just fine," Caroline smiled.
Frank, who'd been leaning on the bar and facing towards Ralph, said, "She'll get every penny she earns. You can count on that Mr. Potee."
Caroline glanced for just a second toward her boss and gave the faintest of nods.
By now the farmer was beginning to feel the effects of the two drinks. "I don't know where they make this panther juice, but it beats the homemade stuff from jug that someone hands me. "Barkeep! ", he said now with a touch of bravado. "Another drink for me and the lady!"
Ralph did as was told, being sure to use two different bottles though for pouring the two drinks. Naturally Caroline got the colored water which she promptly reached for before the man could accidentally take it. It was a long practiced routine between the veteran bartender and the youthful but still veteran saloon gal.
Caroline raised her glass, "Thank ya, hon. Yer a peach."
She also thought he was an idiot but it was a long standing rule, the customer was never turned down long as he could pay.
Potee's burst of bonhomie caused Hiram Priest to a pause, mid-play, and watch the mark carefully. A slight smile creased his lips.
Posted February 23, 2022 ~*~ Maude Potee
"Bringin' in the sheep
Bringin' in the sheep
We shall come rejoicing
Bringing in the sheep"
Mrs. Potee smiled faintly, and offered up a silent prayer.
Well, the words might be wrong, but Arabella had a nice signing voice which clearly affected Mrs Potee: Her hand went swiftly to her bosom. "Can I please beg you for a touch more water?"
"That water don't cool you down, Mrs P. Here, I'm gonna make you a nice cup of tea, don't worry, it ain't unpatriotic no matter what they say. See, it's hot, so it makes you sweat and that cools you down. Look at me..." by way of illustration, she held up her arm to display a nice big dark sweat patch on the armpit of her grey smock.
It was true. Maude had known through hard work that sweat cools a body down. But tea on a day like this? Still, she kept her mouth shut. After all, the girl was trying her hardest
"I haven't seen you in church, lately, Dear," Maude said. There was no hint of disapproval in her tone, just a statement of fact. "I suppose they keep you quite busy here. Don't they?"
Arabella then launched into a speech about her juggling life between work and church. Surprisingly, it took Maude's attention away from her own troubles, at least for a spell. The girl had a zest for living, there was no denying that, and Maude made some mental notes and comparisons between this girl and her own daughter.
"You are a dedicated disciple of our Lord Jesus Christ," Maude intoned. It was the highest compliment she could bestow. "This would be a better town if more people had your devotion."
Arabella gave the teapot a swirl, to encourage the flavor out.
Tea was beginning to sound better and better to Maude. And while Arabella was deep its preparation, she listened as carefully as she could to Arabella's chitchat which, Maude had to admit, bordered on gossip.
"See, this friend o' mine Bridget Monahan, you know, that simple girl with the wooden leg and the ginger hair? Well, alongside them there problems, she's also a Catholic...." Arabella fair whispered that last unwelcome word.
Maude's had when to her mouth. "Oh dear. A Papist," she responded. The word getting caught in her throat like a crosswise chicken bone.
"... so some Sundays I takes her up to the Mission Church near the lake. Don't worry, I don't go in with her myself, well, not since that Father Ignatius feller banned banned me, just cause I made a few corrections to their 'Catholic Ladder' picture they got there - do you know, it shows Protestants not gettin' into heaven! Well believe me sister, I got my pencil to that there picture and drew us taking the direct route!"
Maude giggled. "You mean like Jacob's ladder?" she asked.
The words that spewed out of Arabella's mouth were a validation of all the negative views that Maude held about Catholics. Her father, Jedediah, and her mother, Ann Mariah, were Yanks through and through, and they warned her about Catholics --- and Jews as well.
Finally the cup of tea arrived.
"Thank you, my dear," Maude said, bringing the teacup to her lips. It was very hot and it was a miracle that the liquid did not raise a welt on the roof of her mouth.
"I am worried about my Horace," she confessed to Arabella. "This very minute he's in that lion's den," she tipped her head toward the door that separate the kitchen from the hallway that led to the saloon floor. "Every sin is at liberty to flourish there. It's a nest of malignants. I only wish that there was someway we could get him out of there without causing a scene. Because I know, sure as Eve tasted the forbidden fruit, he will get swindled somehow, some way."
She took another sip. "Oh this is quit good."
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
Posted February 23, 2022 ~*~ Arabella Mudd
"I am worried about my Horace," she confessed to Arabella. "This very minute he's in that lion's den," she tipped her head toward the door that separate the kitchen from the hallway that led to the saloon floor. "Every sin is at liberty to flourish there. It's a nest of malignants. I only wish that there was someway we could get him out of there without causing a scene. Because I know, sure as Eve tasted the forbidden fruit, he will get swindled somehow, some way."
"Hmmm" Arabella responded; sympathetically, but not particularly usefully. The truth was, if a man wanted to do something, his wife couldn't stop him, except by psychological means: and Mrs Potee didn't exactly throb with the sort of bold self confidence and nagging power to do that.
She took another sip. "Oh this is quite good."
Arabella seized on the topic to divert attention from her impotence to help with the woman's erring husband.
"Oh, I'm glad you like it!" she beamed "And I reckon you'll be sweatin' real soon. I don't mind if folks say it's traitorous to drink tea: my great, great, Grandaddy Richard Mudd was a hero of the Revolution: he extinguished himself at the great Battle of Camden, South Carolina." she repeated parrot fashion some much treasured family tradition. "And we're pretty sure he was on the American side, so no one can accuse me of bein' unpatriotic." she announced primly.
"Course, I ain't no relation of that Doctor Mudd feller, the one that helped the dashing and handsome Mr. John Wilkes Booth after he shot poor President Lincoln, except my Mamma used to pretend we was related to him, cause she was red-hot Sessesh, o' course. How 'bout you, Mrs. P. You got any famous ancestors? What was your maiden-name before Mr. Potee swept you off of your feet and made a honest woman of you?!" Arabella asked nosily.
Posted February 23, 2022 ~*~ Horace Potee
I hope they treat you good here, ma'am .. er.. miss," Potee ventured.
"Awww, how sweet of you to worry about little ol' me, but I'm treated just fine," Caroline smiled.
Frank, who'd been leaning on the bar and facing towards Ralph, said,
I hope they treat you good here, ma'am .. er.. miss," Potee ventured.
"Awww, how sweet of you to worry about little ol' me, but I'm treated just fine," Caroline smiled.
Frank, who'd been leaning on the bar and facing towards Ralph, said, "She'll get every penny she earns. You can count on that Mr. Potee."
Frank appreciated Caroline's smarts and her savvy. It promised to be a great partnership.
Horace was filled with bonhomie.
"Barkeep! ", he said now with a touch of bravado. "Another drink for me and the lady!"
Ralph performed his drink-pouring ritual with the speed and accuracy of a magician performing some art of leisure-de-main.
Caroline raised her glass, "Thank ya, hon. Yer a peach."
She also thought he was an idiot but it was a long standing rule, the customer was never turned down long as he could pay.
Horace felt appreciated and sought-after. It had been ages since he'd felt that way. His usual existence of listening to Maude chide him over some perceived, unholy, misdeeds had gotten tiring for the hardworking homesteader. Now, there he was, in the Star Dust Saloon tickling the fancy of Miss Caroline. -- and visa versa.
"Didn't I hear that you know your way around a song?" he asked his hostess. I bet you sing like an angel. I used to do a bit of singing myself." (He did not confess that the only singing he did was in a church choir).
Fortner turned away and smothered a grin and, in doing so, spotted Hiram Priest taking in Potee's grandness by slowly, sadly, shaking his head.
"I got me forty acres out north of town," Potee continued on his quest to impress Caroline. "I got two heifers and the strongest mule in the whole Montana Territory. I can plow a acre before lunchtime." He held his arm out and then brought his fist back to his ear in the classic pose to show muscle." Then, in a daring bit of suggestiveness, far beyond his usual, he added, "Do you like muscle?"
Address me as Hon. Hiram Priest, esq.
Posted February 23, 2022 / Hiram Priest
Hiram kept an eye on the unwary Mr. Potee. It was quite a performance he was putting on for the benefit of Caroline. "Pathetic" was the word that kept intruding into his thoughts.
He listened to the description of all that he and his homestead had to offer and, all the while, the poem by Thomas Hood came to mind.
Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!
Bright and yellow, hard and cold
Molten, graven, hammered and rolled,
Heavy to get and light to hold,
Hoarded, bartered, bought and sold,
Stolen, borrowed, squandered, doled.Price of many a crime untold.
Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!
The erudite and learned, former, Judge was one to reckon with. There was no telling what he might have achieved in life had it not been for his lecherous heart and averous soul.
Now their plans were coming into focus - finally, with the loudmouth homesteader walking right into their trap.
His eyes swept from right to left and he spotted Ben Simons. What was on his mind? What was he after? He would have to find out more about him once he was elected as Mayor. He'd have his minions find out about the dandy ... weak spots, maybe.
But back to Potee. If they could just swoop him up in a game poker.
Posted February 24, 2022 / Caroline Mundee
"Didn't I hear that you know your way around a song?" Potee asked her, " I bet you sing like an angel. I used to do a bit of singing myself."
"Oh I sing like an angel, if I do say so but trust me, they ain't the sort songs angels probably sing, hon," grinned Caroline.
Fortner turned away and smothered a grin and, in doing so, spotted Hiram Priest taking in Potee's grandness by slowly, sadly, shaking his head.
The liquor got him talking now, Caroline figured it would. She just swallowed her latest colored water, sober as schoolgirl.
"I got me forty acres out north of town," Potee continued on his quest to impress Caroline. "I got two heifers and the strongest mule in the whole Montana Territory. I can plow a acre before lunchtime."
Caroline nodded, "Impressive but I bet the mule does the hard work."
The farmer held his arm out and then brought his fist back to his ear in the classic pose to show muscle. Then, in a daring bit of suggestiveness, far beyond his usual, he added, "Do you like muscle?"
"On some men, sure!" Caroline nodded, she did not add 'young men more my age.'
"I like smart men too though, hon."
Posted February 26, 2022 / Maude Potee
She took another sip. "Oh this is quite good."
Arabella seized on the topic to divert attention from her impotence to help with the woman's erring husband.
"Oh, I'm glad you like it!" she beamed "And I reckon you'll be sweatin' real soon. I don't mind if folks say it's traitorous to drink tea: my great, great, Granddaddy Richard Mudd was a hero of the Revolution: he extinguished himself at the great Battle of Camden, South Carolina." she repeated parrot fashion some much treasured family tradition. "And we're pretty sure he was on the American side, so no one can accuse me of bein' unpatriotic." she announced primly.
"No one could accuse you of that, my dear.
"Course, I ain't no relation of that Doctor Mudd feller, the one that helped the dashing and handsome Mr. John Wilkes Booth after he shot poor President Lincoln, except my Mamma used to pretend we was related to him, cause she was red-hot Sessesh, o' course. How 'bout you, Mrs. P. You got any famous ancestors? What was your maiden-name before Mr. Potee swept you off of your feet and made a honest woman of you?!" Arabella asked nosily.
Maude Stiffened.
"Mr. Booth was an assassin, dear. He killed our wonderful leader, Abraham Lincoln. He is probably in Hell as we speak. There is no purgatory for men such as he. However, I am not to judge. Am I? "
Just then a voice from the saloon arose. "Barkeep! Another drink for me and the lady!"
Maude winced. It was Horace. Oh you fool! she thought.
"Well dear, my Great Grandfather, Samuel Abbott, was a soldier in Roger's Rangers, the famous Indian Fighters. He was with Major Rogers during the Battle on Snowshoes. That was up near Lake George. And he was on the trek to the Indian village of St. Francis, killed them all. Then he almost died on the trip back." She shook her head sadly. "Some of them resorted to Cannibalism because they were starving. I don't know why the good Lord puts men through tests like that."
Posted February 26, 2022 / Horace Potee
The liquor got him talking now, Caroline figured it would. She just swallowed her latest colored water, sober as schoolgirl.
"I got me forty acres out north of town," Potee continued on his quest to impress Caroline. "I got two heifers and the strongest mule in the whole Montana Territory. I can plow a acre before lunchtime."
Caroline nodded, "Impressive but I bet the mule does the hard work."
"Well we both work our asses off," Horace started, then... "oh, excuse the language, we both help each other. How's that?" The truth was, the hardest working creature on the homestead was the long suffering Maude. But, for some reason, he wanted to keep his wife out of the conversation.
The farmer held his arm out and then brought his fist back to his ear in the classic pose to show muscle. Then, in a daring bit of suggestiveness, far beyond his usual, he added, "Do you like muscle?"
"On some men, sure!" Caroline nodded, she did not add 'young men more my age.'
"I like smart men too though, hon."
Frank spoke across Caroline and to Horace.
"So tell me, Mr. Potee. Do you like the Star Dust? As a new owner, I'd like to know."
Horace felt honored to be "Mister'd" by the owner of the establishment. In fact, it was turning out to be a great day for him. He was hobnobbing with the elite! That included the lovely Caroline who, in Horace's mind, was quite taken with him.
"Sure do, sir. Sure do. Hell, I'd like to ditch my homestead and find a job in town! That way I can just cross the street and treat myself to this red eye!" All this was said loudly. It prompted low snickers from some of the other patrons. It also was heard way off in the kitchen where Maude buried her head in her hands. Most important of all, it was heard by Hiram Priest, who licked his lips like a predator ready to devour some helpless prey.
"Tell me, er .. Mr. Potee.." began Frank.
"Horace! Please." Potee begged.
"All right, Horace." Frank corrected. "You look like a man of the world, one who doesn't need to be coddled by anyone. Do you ever partake in games of chance?"
"Miss Caroline?" Horace asked the star of the Star Dust. "Do I look like I can manage my way around a poker table?"