A new customer came into the restaurant as Clara made to withdraw.  Suddenly, Roland had the sensation that he may have delayed the young Mrs. Lutz with too much talk, perhaps robbing her of a valued quiet moment between customers.

The new arrival seemed like quite a character.  He could have walked out of a portrait of the American frontier, replete with a gun on his hip.   Though Roland supposed he might look much the same with the right clothes on... until he opened his mouth.  

The man- a Mr. Flagg, it seemed- was a jovial sort, and Roland found himself smiling a bit even before he was addressed.  When the man finally did speak to him, Roland stood.

"Having recently been refused by an admirable woman, I can commiserate.   Mr. Flagg, was it?  My name is Roland.  Roland Smith.  You can join me while you wait for your order, if you like.  I'm new to town and the novelty of meeting the residents hasn't worn off, yet."

He smiled and sat down again, leaving Flagg to accept or decline according to his preference.  Either way, Roland charged ahead with an attempt at conversation.

"I could not help but overhear the name Caroline associated with an errand of yours, Sir.  I wonder if it is the same young lady I had the pleasure to meet recently."  He held up a hand, "Unrelated to the aforementioned commiseration, I assure you."

Roland's gaze dipped briefly to evaluate the weapon Mr. Flagg bore.

@[Clara Lutz]

"I've even been refused by less than admirable ones. My luck!"

Roland chuckled.  This man was a character, all right.  And a nice diversion in what was likely to be a dull day.  There were few things as monotonous as unpacking.  Hopefully it would be the last time he needed to do so.  With a bit of luck and honest toil, this should be the last home he'd need to claim for himself.  And with luck, he might even catch himself a Bride before he was too old to know what to do with one.

"Smith eh? I've known a few by that name but you ain't one of 'em.  Turk Flagg's the name. Course Ma wanted to use my birth name Cabot Flagg, you know mothers."

Roland held out a hand, "Well, I am now. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Flagg.  We English get along with Cabots and Turks equally well, but I shall honor your preference."

It was an allusion to the generally cordial relation between Turkey and Britain, though he wasn't entirely sure if the joke would get across or whether it was particularly funny.

"New to town. I kinda figured. But you ain't really meetin' a resident. I'm just here in town for..........well, not sure yet how long. Drifted on in few days back.  Ohh, Caroline Mundee you referring to. Saloon lady? Hell yeah. She and I are old friends from Helena. I was surprised to see her workin' here now when I stumbled inta town and was thirsty.""

Roland nodded amiably enough, though the idea of such a listless and wandering lifestyle seemed a bit too much like being a vagabond for his tastes.  "That is the same Lady, indeed.  It was her rousing tales of the fare here that lured me in, today.  Please give her my best when you see her."  Roland knew that Caroline's welcoming personality had likely been the simple product of any good hostess, but the positive feelings she engendered were real enough.

"May I ask what your trade is, Turk?  Are you one of the famed American wilderness hunters and trappers whose exploits we sometimes read about on my native island?"

@[Cabot Flagg]

Roland's eyes widened at the news that Caroline had been braining men with axe-handles.  He'd have to be sure to get the work on her gun done in a hurry when it came in.  It seemed she was the sort to get into a violent scrape with some regularity. No wonder she was loathe to leave it anywhere for long.

Well, he couldn't exactly criticize on account of finding violent scrapes.  Not after the year he was having, himself.

When Turk explained the nature of his business, it gradually dawned on Roland that this was no ordinary listless vagabond.  No, this was surely the Bounty Hunter Caroline had mentioned.  Much more amiable in disposition than the image Roland had conjured in his head.  One tended to think of Bounty Hunters as hard, unapproachable figures whose eyes were cold as ice after untold life-and-death encounters. Or as cunning Pinkertons, half-detective and half-thug.

This Cabot Flagg seemed contrarily to be someone it would be fun to have a beer with at the pub.

"Caroline described a friend of hers, and I believe you must be the very man," Roland said.  "If Man-Hunting is your trade, you may need to wander less of late in search of a pay-day.  I'm recently in from Oakdale, having been brought over by Miss Chappel.  We encountered three brigands on the road.  Quite the introduction to life on the frontier.  Wanted men, each and all."

He paused for a moment, recalling the frenzied violence of the encounter.    

"They carried a note on their person which suggested to me that they were responding to a job advert of some description.

And well... if these are the sorts descending on Kalispell looking for work, someone like yourself may find plenty of work to do here in turn."

@[Cabot Flagg]

Roland struggled not to smirk as Cabot declared that Caroline 'knows an awful lot of men.'

Well, he supposed that was true.  A hazard of the job, no doubt.  But it seemed Roland had the right of it.  This was indeed the Bounty Hunter Caroline had told him of.  

Cabot deduced that the assailants attacking Roland had been shot, and he nodded, doing his best to look somber about it.

"Well, it was necessary to secure our lives and property, but I had fortunate help-" 

The jolly man-hunter wasn't done yet, though... and the topic had suddenly become much less jolly.  Cabot discussed the oft-maligned Evergreen, of which he'd received similar intelligence to Roland's.  But then he went on to describe the recent shootout with a ranch-hand.  When Caroline had recounted this same tale from another angle, Roland had assumed it to be a conflict related to the war itself.  But no... this was a personal tale of revenge, enacted to pay back a scoundrel murderer for the innocent blood he'd needlessly let.

"That, sir, is a black tale, to be sure."  Roland shook his head, "And the only good in it is that you got the bastard."

He allowed a moment of quiet to hang about them before adding, "I've yet to hear a kind word about this Evergreen Ranch."   

His mind turned to the wanted poster folded up in the possession of the highwaymen.  The note, with the letters EVGN.  He'd assumed it to be a name at the moment in which he'd read it.  And so it likely was, but perhaps not the name of a person, rather a place.

"I'm the new gunsmith in town," he added, "having just purchased the previous gent's building from the bank.  If you need to rehabilitate any of your gear, or buy ammunition, I'll give you a good rate.  Your assessment rings true.  It feels to me that a growing tension is rising in this town.  Best to be sharp for it."

It might seem self-serving to mention his occupation in this moment, but it was a genuine offer born of concern.   A powerful ranch with ill intentions?  And this man had killed one of their own?  Roland would serve Cabot at cost if it kept him in fighting trim, and alive.  The strong and the many often preyed upon the weak or the few.  People had to stick together against such forces.

@[Cabot Flagg]

Roland hoped that he hadn't seemed self-serving with the offer, but he could only put his best foot forward and try not to trip over it.  Hopefully, the Bounty Hunter would see the offer as he'd intended it, and not as a self-serving attempt to secure more customers.

Which was not to say that he was above maneuvering to get customers.  He just wasn't doing that in this case.

Probably. 

It might be a good idea to examine his own motivations from time to time.  Occasionally, Roland suspected that he wasn't as good a man as he tried to be.

Before he could dwell on that possibility, his attention was drawn to the approaching form of Clara.

Roland smiled.  "Ah, some good news, at last."

Not all of Roland's appetites had been wholesome of late, but this was one dish he could salivate over without compromising his character.

@[Cabot Flagg]

@[Clara Lutz]

(Not sure if you'd like to end it here as a fade-out, or carry it forward.)