"The law is the law."
"Mining's not everyone's choice of hobbies, it just happens to be mine."
Posted October 6, 2021 / Henry S. Guyer
Speed smiled at the question, that would be Miss Alice Fletcher, an old an very dear friend." He volunteered. "She's been here before, but probably just in for supplies and back out her ranch again."
"I had known her father from the late war. Actually, we met on the battlefield. Pulled him out of a tight spot. One of those things that happens in time of war. Well, need to see about selling this pistol and getting the money where it's needed. Thanks again." He liked Arabella, quirky as she might be. Everyone had their peculiarities, including him.
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
Posted October 7, 2021 / Arabella Mudd
Speed smiled at the question, that would be Miss Alice Fletcher, an old an very dear friend." He volunteered. "She's been here before, but probably just in for supplies and back out her ranch again."
"Old friend?" repeated Arabella, looking up - way up - at Marshal Guyer. "Well then, you must have know'd her since she was a baby! That gal didn't look more 'n twenty five years old!" she exclaimed, for indeed, Miss Fletcher looked nothing like her 37 years.
"I had known her father from the late war. Actually, we met on the battlefield. Pulled him out of a tight spot. One of those things that happens in time of war."
Arabella nodded sagely. "Yep, I served as a baby in the War, m'self. But if I'd ha' been a little older, I'd have been one o' them glamorous lady spies what hid secret documents in their unsearchables. Problem is, my Pa was a Abolitionist and my Ma was red-hot sessesh, so I dunno what side I'd have been on. I'd have had to be one of them Double-U Agents."
"Well, need to see about selling this pistol and getting the money where it's needed. Thanks again." He liked Arabella, quirky as she might be. Everyone had their peculiarities, including him.
"O-Kay Marshal, so long! Good luck with Mr. Winterbottom!" she said as they parted ways in the bar, and as he got out of earshot added to herself "... and Miss Alice Fletcher!"
Posted October 7, 2021 / Caroline Mundee
Caroline answered the man's inquiry about saloons with a rose colored glasses reply but truth was she did like what she did and she did like the place she worked in. The people here were her family as far as she was concerned. She had found her place of comfort.
I have a lot of irons in the fire," Fortner conceded. "Maybe get me a place like this." His eyes swept the interior of the Stardust.
Oh? Caroline wasn't completely surprised, the man had to have had a reason for his saloon questions.
"If I did, I'd make you the big attraction." He raised his arms and spread then apart. "I'd have your name and face plastered on playbills all across town... even a small town like this needs an attraction."
It was a small town and everybody knew her already, she wasn't a lamp under a basket she was the shining light of the Star Dust. Playbills might work in a big city, a New York or a Philadelphia but here, a waste of time in her opinion. She said nothing though but let him continue.
He took a short sip and set the glass down.
"You would be strictly on Salary and you could keep any tips all for yourself. None of that splitting it between you and the piano player or management."
Caroline shrugged bare shoulders, "Already am on salary, hon. And it was my idea for the piano player to get one too, management agreed then. I like my piano player."
"But I'm getting ahead of myself, Doll. The person who owns this place probably has their heels dug in and wouldn't part with it until they're hauled out of here in a pine box."
Yes, he certainly was. She had no proof he could even afford a horse much less a booming business, one suit of fancy eastern clothes and an upfront confidence didn't prove a goddamn thing in her opinion.
"Well, I can't speak for Miss Devereau, she owns this here place. I would arrange to have a little talk with her if I were you. Warn ya, she is no one's fool. She comes from a saloon background too ," Caroline smiled and finished her drink.
Address me as Hon. Hiram Priest, esq.
Posted October 8, 2021 / Franklin Fortner
"But I'm getting ahead of myself, Doll. The person who owns this place probably has their heels dug in and wouldn't part with it until they're hauled out of here in a pine box."
Yes, he certainly was. She had no proof he could even afford a horse much less a booming business, one suit of fancy eastern clothes and an upfront confidence didn't prove a goddamn thing in her opinion.
"Well, I can't speak for Miss Devereau, she owns this here place. I would arrange to have a little talk with her if I were you. Warn ya, she is no one's fool. She comes from a saloon background too ," Caroline smiled and finished her drink.
This split-tail is a tough one, Fortner reckoned. He knew when to back off, and he held his palm up and outward in the classic "Cease" gesture.
"I wouldn't dream of upsetting life in this great town." He looked over to where the newly lead-loaded body still lay. "I've done enough of that already today. Oh, and by the way,..." He called over to Hiram Priest. "Thanks for helping me out today, Mister. I'm indebted to you."
The older man was stuffing more tobacco into his mouth, and could only nod.
"Let me say this. If you hear that Miss Devereau ever wants to lay down the burden of running a place like this, tell her Franklin Fortner is interested in taking it off her hands. In fact, if I ever get a chance to visit with her, I can do it myself." He rushed past the subject, regretting that he ever brought it up. "I am looking into land purchases, mostly. I hear land is going for about $1.25 an acre, maybe more. Tomorrow I'm going on an expedition outside of town with some agents. I'm going to see for myself."
Another sip of whiskey.
"So, enough about me. Did you grow up around here or did some westward wind blow you into Kalispell?"
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
Posted October 11, 2021 / Arabella Mudd
With the Marshal gone, Arabella looked around: Caroline in deep conversation with that awful man who shot Mr. Grimes; Mister Priest, laughing and talking and cajoling with the body of potential future voters at the bar; Mr Flandry pouring drinks and taking money; Mr. Grimes, lifeless on the floor: more in the way now, than anything. People grumbling as they had to step over his cadaver.
Her face fell.
"I'm going to get Mr. Jolly." she said to nobody in particular and walked out of the swing doors.
It was good to get out. She crossed the street, it wasn't a far walk to the funeral parlour. She wouldn't mention the $20 or the further $17 that Frances Grimes might get for her dead brother's gun. Mr. Jolly had a clever way of making the relatives of the dead feel guilty if they did not beggar themselves on expensive caskets and flowers and other funerary impedimenta which would be seen once and then buried beneath the ground to rot along with the corpses they embellished.
Tomorrow there would be two coffins side by side in Mr. Jolly's embalming room: Richard Orr's gothic towering silver handled casket, and Frank Grimes plain deal box. Both men would lie inside their respective packing cases for the final trip to oblivion, both equally dead.
Address me as Hon. Hiram Priest, esq.
Posted October 11, 2021 / Hiram Priest
The talented Miss Arabella was obviously in a hurry. She rushed past so quickly from the saloon that a few cards that were arranged on Hiram's table were swept out of place.
"Humph," the wily Priest mumbled and patiently set them back in order.
Fortner was deep in conversation with the dance hall girl, and there was little he could do but continue his play and conjure up what the future might bring.
In his inner pocket he had documents .... "the documents". He reached inside his coat and patted the envelope to insure that it was still there.
Then he glanced over at Franklin Fortner. That man could sell a snowball in a blizzard. Together they made a damned good team --- though many people never learned of nor recognized their immense aptitude for cabal. Damned good, he iterated before sending a streak of tobacco juice into a spittoon with expert marksmanship.
Posted October 12, 2021 / Matilda Devereau
"Let me say this. If you hear that Miss Devereau ever wants to lay down the burden of running a place like this, tell her Franklin Fortner is interested in taking it off her hands. In fact, if I ever get a chance to visit with her, I can do it myself."
Caroline nodded but then offered, "You know she is upstairs right now, she has got an office up there. Truth be told she spends most of her time up there, she keeps the books, does all the buying, you know all that boring business stuff. Anyhow I could take ya up there."
He mentioned land deals and purchases too outside of town but that all was boring to a gal who almost never left the saloon let alone the confines of the town.
Fortner then changed the subject, "So, enough about me. Did you grow up around here or did some westward wind blow you into Kalispell?"
Caroline smiled, "Nah, you don't get my life story so easily less you buy me another drink. I'm on the job now you realize."
~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Matilda had watched from the top of the stairs as the marshal had come into the place to check on the shooting and the corpse on the floor. Unknown to most there was a vent just above the bar which was always kept open, this allowed her to listen in to much that went on downstairs most times and in fact though she was not an eyewitness to the shooting, she heard it and the conversation which brought it on. Had it sounded like Ralph needed help, she would have rushed down there gun in hand. Yes, she was quite capable of using a revolver, she had done it a few times in her life including the night she killed her husband with one.
But the death of that useless Frank Grimes was nothing to bring her downstairs, not like she cared about the man. Now she was back in her office poring over some - of all things - newspapers from San Francisco. She had a few delivered to her last month.
There was a soft knock on the door then followed by a most familiar voice.
"Miss Devereau, excuse me but I got someone who wants to see ya for a minute. It's business regardin' the saloon," Caroline explained.
Matilda closed the vent to the first floor so whatever conversation would now occur in her office would not be audible to anyone in the saloon itself. Then sat back in her cushioned chair, "Door's open."
With a turn of the knob, the saloon girl then led in some man she had never seen before. He had the look of an Easterner perhaps and very much that of a businessman sort.
"Thanks, you can head back down then, Caroline. I got it from here," as usual Matilda was no nonsense direct. Caroline was used to such an abrupt dismissal, in fact she expected it and left without a word.
"And you are? " asked Matilda, "You obviously already know my name."
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
Posted October 12, 2021 / Arabella Mudd
By the time Arabella got back with Mr. Jolly and his assistant, who came with a stretcher with which to carry the already half forgotten ne'er do well away, Fortner had already gone upstairs. Arabella's nose twitched like a rat sniffing the faint odour of carrion and her eyes narrowed as she scanned the place. Something was missing, or some people. Where was that slicker Fortner and where was Caroline? She heard a door shut upstairs and her singer friend was descending with the odd curious look behind her.
"Where's that Fortner feller what shot Mr. Grimes?" she demanded of some hapless barfly. On being told that he'd gone upstairs to see Miss Devereau, a tingle of worry and suspicion ran up and down the girl's spine. She ran to the foot of the stairs to intercept the bar singer.
"Caro! What's goin' on? Why's that feller goin' to see the Missus?!!" she asked breathlessly.
Posted October 14, 2021 / Franklin Fortner
After another shot, Frank followed Caroline up the flight of stairs, down a corridor and to a door marked "Private". The area was dim and, to Fortner, felt tight. It was not by design that he almost pressed against his female guide, and it was not an unpleasant experience. Was it lemon verbena he sensed?
It was clear that Caroline valued her job and that she had a large measure of deference toward the saloon's owner, Miss Matilda Devereau. Gone was her blunt, matter-of-fact delivery to be replaced by undisguised timidity.
"Miss Devereau, excuse me but I got someone who wants to see ya for a minute. It's business regardin' the saloon," Caroline explained.
Frank didn't catch the response, but it must have been favorable because Caroline opened the door and led him inside the inner sanctum. It was a proper and tidy office, not unlike the office he'd occupied at the Silver Lady. It filled him with a sense of confidence, not that he needed any because confidence was never in short supply.
Miss Devereau was as tidy appearing as her office. Her clothes were fetching but not garish. She was a businesswoman. That much was certain.
"Thanks, you can head back down then, Caroline. I got it from here," as usual Matilda was no nonsense direct. Caroline was used to such an abrupt dismissal, in fact she expected it and left without a word.
"And you are? " asked Matilda, "You obviously already know my name."
Frank held his bowler with both hands, pressed against his stomach, and exhibited straight posture.
"My name is Frank Fortner, new to Kalispell, and looking to settled down. I admire what you've done with the Stardust, ... it reminds me of an establishment I owned in the past. I would like you to know that if you ever wanted to part with this saloon, I would be honored to offer you a generous price. So, please keep me in mind if that day ever comes."
He smiled courteously, and executed a slight bow.
"Oh. Sorry about the fracas downstairs. Gun play is always my last resort, but the man couldn't be stopped."
Posted October 15, 2021 / Matilda Devereau
"And you are? " asked Matilda, "You obviously already know my name."
Frank held his bowler with both hands, pressed against his stomach, and exhibited straight posture.
"My name is Frank Fortner, new to Kalispell, and looking to settled down. I admire what you've done with the Stardust, ... it reminds me of an establishment I owned in the past. I would like you to know that if you ever wanted to part with this saloon, I would be honored to offer you a generous price. So, please keep me in mind if that day ever comes."
"Really, Mr. Fortner?" the woman was obviously surprised but hard to tell if it was 'pleasantly' surprised or what?
He smiled courteously, and executed a slight bow.
"Oh. Sorry about the fracas downstairs. Gun play is always my last resort, but the man couldn't be stopped."
"I heard the entire exchange but I did not see the actual shooting. No need to apologize, we have had trouble with the now 'late' Mr. Grimes in the past. He was asking for it as far as I'm concerned," there did not sound like an ounce of pity in that voice of hers.
"Sit down, Mr. Fortner, I'd offer you a drink but what I would like to do is engage in a very serious conversation about business. I'd like you sober afterall I don't know how many drinks you've had already," Matilda gestured toward the sturdy wooden chair opposite her desk.
"Now, I don't want to insult your intelligence because you look like quite the competent fellow but you realize the purchase of a saloon, especially a successful one like mine is would cost a lot of money? And you can afford it? I'm not talking promises - I will want the money upfront and it would be up to do to deal with a bank then regarding such things as loans."