"Well, I am the owner ....yes. Ralph doesn't sing, the world is thankful for that," Matilda responded dryly.

“He he he, that’s … funny.” Grinned Lorenzo. He didn’t sound convinced at the end though, she didn’t look like she was joking. Oh oh, like a lot of women, seems this one didn’t have an actual factual sense of humor, just a patch of sandpaper sarcasm that passed for one. He tried the pious approach, though it seemed out of place for a saloon.

“Appears that we have both taken on the heavy mantle of caring for a poor waif and stray, cast adrift in this cruel world and lost in the shuffle of life.”

"I am the child's guardian, yes," Matilda knew this sort of spiel, she had heard most every trick in her line of work. But she was still a bit confused at what he was going on about. Ralph could sense  it.

“Sings and does ventriloquism, too!  Don’t ‘spose you’d consider hiring her out for few hours every night? Top rates, o’course!”

And why not? They were probably using her as slave labor anyway, that’s the reason most folks took orphans on. Wash the pots, clean the floor, peel the spuds: all for a total cost of nothing, except their bed and board. They'd earn even more off her this way.

"The man is going to give us some competition, drinks, wimmen, music, askin' about whether we got whores here," Ralph now chimed in.

“Course I asked if there was whores here!” said Lorenzo, looking affronted “I’d hardly want to bring my ward, an innocent young lady, into a house of ill repute!” That was pretty slick, even for him: he gave himself a mental pat on the back. And as for that big beardy feller: why, he was just a tattle-tale and a sneak!

"Ah, so that's it," Matilda flashed a terse smile with an edge to it. "Sizing up your opposition huh? And trying to recruit right out from under me?"

“Whoaaa Nellie!” recoiled Crabbe, stepping back a pace from the feisty firebrand. Boy, if she was a looker under normal circumstances, she was fantastically attractive when her dander was up. “Sizing up…!? Why I was just trying to give your little girl here her first start on the glittering road to fame and riches, I don’t see how …”

“Well, Arabella is not for sale or rent. Now you get out of here right now before I lose my temper. You don't want to see me do that, I can assure you," she snapped.

“You sure?” frowned Lorenzo. If the flashes of incandescence he’d witnessed so far were anything to go by… He finished his drink. “Well, if this is the way you treat all of your paying customers, I don’t think I got too much to worry about.” he concluded, and turned to where Bridget and Arabella were now whispering and giggling together.

“Come on, Honey, we gotta go now!” he called.

Arabella awwww-ed sadly and gave Bridget back her dolly, as the ginger girl tried to drink up her sarsaparilla rather than waste it.

Lorenzo looked down at the black-haired girl, reached in his pocket and flipped her a nickel … no! She caught it and realized with a gasp that it was a whole dollar.

“That was real pretty piano playing and singing, Miss. You come and see me when you’re sixteen, I’ll give you a job doing that.” He advised her and raised his hat to her, as Bridget joined him at her side, smiling innocently at Ralph and Matilda.

"You asked because you were interested in getting your hands on this innocent young lady. Bet she would bring a good price, fresh n' all," Matilda sneered.

“Well, to be honest with, ya, Mam, in some quarters? … er, Yes. But honest injun…” he said holding up the palms of his hands “I just need a pianna player right now!” Arabella did have that girl-like, innocent look about her that appealed, not just to men of ‘certain tastes’ but also those who had contracted syphilis. It was a wide held misconception that sexual intercourse with a virgin would cure a man of that pernicious disease, and underage girls were the obvious target to serve in this capacity. Of course, the ‘cure’ didn’t work, it just infected the unfortunate girl who, lost in a world of prostitution, then went on to infect future customers. It was a vicious circle that wasn’t about to end anytime soon.

Now the man was played the 'indignant' card as he finished his drink. “Well, if this is the way you treat all of your paying customers, I don’t think I got too much to worry about."

"My paying customers don't go asking for young girls, now I said 'git'!" snarled the fiery saloon owner.

The slicker and the waif made ready to depart, but not without first giving Arabella a taste of the riches that might await in the burgeoning rival establishment.

Matilda wasn't quite done yet either then leaving him with one final warning.

"Mister, if I see you or find out you been even attempting to talk to this young girl, I will shoot you. I mean it, we'll see who's bluffing."

Bridget wondered why they were walking backwards out of a place (again!), but managed the maneuver adroitly enough, even with her false leg.

"And if she misses, I won't," Ralph added his bit to their parting of ways.

Crabbe dragged his eyes away from the fiery Ms. Devereau just long enough to glance at Ralph and utter a depreciating laugh of “Oh, sorry, I’d forgotten about you.”

Now they were at the swing doors and Crabbe raised his hat once again.

“Well, nice meetin’ you folks, maybe see you at Church on Sunday? Do drop in at my place if you ever get kinda…” he made a show of glancing around the Saloon “… bored here.” Then, with the ginger haired girl smiling and innocently waving bye-bye, they were gone through the doors.

Of the three saloon personnel left standing there, the ever-loyal and high-minded Arabella was the first to pipe up.

“Did you see that? A WHOLE SILVER DOLLAR!!!” she exclaimed, holding up the shiny coin.