Having only arrived late afternoon the day before, Adam had been catching up on his sleep and getting some well earned rest. Instead of taking the stage, he had decided to ride to Kalispell so that he could find out what he had gotten himself into.
It was about one week or so ago that he had been called to Governor Houser's office. The Governor wanted to appoint him a civil judge for the town of Kalispell - an offer Adam didn't refuse as he had two daughters to fend for. Even though this appointment would take him away from Emma and Jane for a long time, he knew it was for the best. His two daughters needed a mother more than a father and he was thankfully that his late wife's mother, Edwina had stepped into the role. Both Edwina and her husband Isaiah knew that in order to secure his daughters' long-term future he would have to take on a job like this.
Houser had told him about the situation between Evergreen and Lost Lake. The tension had been and was still slowly escalating and the Governor wanted to be seen doing something about it. One of Adam's job would be to try to broker some sort of peace deal between the two ranches and even though it was already a lost cause.
On his way to Kalispell, Adam had stopped in at some of the way stations, farms and small ranches to get more information. Now, he was about to enter the town's only drinking establishment for the common folk. The hotel's bar was the well-to-do, whereas the Stardust for the worker.
Walking into the saloon, the atmosphere seemed pleasant despite all of the troubles. He made his way to the bar to order a drink and maybe learn a few things.
Wayfarer and anybody else in the saloon on a Friday night.
Manning the bar that evening (and pretty much evening) Ralph was doing what he did best. He knew his liquor, he could probably find the exact location of each of the many bottles on the shelf even if he was blindfolded. The place went thru a lot of beer too and he expertly moved the heavy barrels into their position behind the bar to replace the emptied ones. He cleaned and polished glasses. He wiped the bartop of spills. And of course he dealt with the customers, all sorts of customers.
And finally though, and this was important, he was the one who would deal with trouble and troublemakers. Once his reputation got established, there were no regulars who wanted to be facing him if he was angry. Behind the bar he had a chair leg to use as a club to knock some sense into a fool who wouldn't listen to words of warning. And if it came down to it, he had a double barreled shotgun down there too. He also carried a Single Action Colt Army revolver under that bartender's apron. This was a man who knew how to use guns, he'd been in the late war and had killed more than his share of Johnnie Rebs. And a few malefactors since then too.
He had just placed two foam crested glasses of beer in front of a pair of cowpokes when another fellow stepped up to the bar, a well dressed sort and a face he did not recognize and Ralph had a great memory for faces if not always names.
"Hullo, what can I get ya?" he greeted the man, there was no smile accompanying the words, Ralph was not one of those folksy cheerful sorts. But there was no anger in his voice either.
"Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see the shadows" - Helen Keller
Smell, touch, warmth (or cold): Frances knew her world through these three media, yes, but mainly through a fourth: sound. And her higher faculties were stimulated and supplied with information through the human voice. Similarly, what she could give to the world, and what earned her a living, was communicated through voice and sound. This Friday night, her audible contribution to the convivial atmosphere of the saloon was an up-tempo rendering of a brand new hit song out of New York called "My Grandfather's Clock". It was a good and popular tune to play when she wasn't actively accompanying the saloon's sultry blonde songstress, Caroline Mundee, as it wasn't exactly the type of number you could pitch in a low cut red frock with a wink to the boys.
It was a good tip earner for the blind girl in the fetching hand-crafted black glasses that Mister Smith had made for her: she got paid a solid rate for her accompaniment duties, but her noodling around in-between times was supported entirely on the pennies tossed into a bowl on top of the piano by customers who appreciated a particular melody, or were moved to pity by the sight of the pretty blind girl. The bowl was metal (Arabella had joked that it was probably a spittoon!) which meant that she could hear and respond to any contribution to her meagre living with a smile and a "Thank you" to some vague space above her.
Grandfather's Clock went well. A couple of clinks in the bowl (a cent and a nickel she determined from the sound) and she decided to 'cash in', i.e. to hand over her takings to Mr Flandry: not only for safekeeping (although most people in the saloon would be reticent to steal from a blind girl... except Mister Fortner, perhaps) but because if your bowl was too full, you got less sympathy.
She finished the tune, felt along the top of the upright piano and found her bowl, then stood and walked to the bar without her stick to guide her, she knew the route so well. She was about to talk to Mr Flandry when she heard him greet a customer.
"Hullo, what can I get ya?" he greeted the man, there was no smile accompanying the words, Ralph was not one of those folksy cheerful sorts. But there was no anger in his voice either.
Frances meant to wait behind the man, but accidentally overshot and actually bumped into him.
"Oh, please forgive me!" she said politely, casting out a sweet smile into the darkness in the general direction of the mass she had collided with. Luckily, she hadn't spilled her pennies.
"Hullo, what can I get ya?" he greeted the man, there was no smile accompanying the words, Ralph was not one of those folksy cheerful sorts. But there was no anger in his voice either.
Adam smiled, "A beer will be fine thanks."
Frances meant to wait behind the man, but accidentally overshot and actually bumped into him.
"Oh, please forgive me!" she said politely, casting out a sweet smile into the darkness in the general direction of the mass she had collided with. Luckily, she hadn't spilled her pennies.
Expecting it to be a saloon girl or one of the bar's patrons, Adam turned around and was surprised to see that it was a well-dressed young lady. The thing that surprised him more was not the fact that she was in the bar at all but that she was wearing a strange set of eyeglasses. Remembering that he had seen similar looking glasses before, Adam realised that the girl was blind and a blind girl in a saloon was very peculiar.
"Ma'am, I should be the one asking for forgiveness as I seem to be in your way," Adam replied with a warm tone. "If you wait for just a moment, I think I can rectify this situation."
After nudging the man who was propped up to the bar on his left and indicating that he needed to step aside for the girl. Initially, the man wasn't that pleased but when he saw who Adam was making room for, he happily obliged. It was that or raise Ralph's ire by staying there.
When the man had vacated his position at the bar, Adam moved over and then gently guided Frances forward, "I hope you don't mind me taking liberties by bringing you closer to the bar, now that you can move forward."
@[Javia] and Wayfarer
"Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see the shadows" - Helen Keller
"Ma'am, I should be the one asking for forgiveness as I seem to be in your way," Adam replied with a warm tone. "If you wait for just a moment, I think I can rectify this situation."
"Oh, that's all right" Frances said, shaking her head slightly as if to indicate his apology was entirely unnecessary. In a place like this even sighted people were forever bumping into each other, spilling beer, starting fights, getting whacked by Mr Flandry...
The feller Townsend had moved along looked about and gave a rough but suitably apologetic "Uh? Oh. Sorry Franny."
"Oh, That's all right Mister Miller." responded Frances, recognising the voice. Even when she had to speak up, over the hubbub, her voice was still somehow sweet and gentle.
When the man had vacated his position at the bar, Adam moved over and then gently guided Frances forward.
"Ooooh!" Miss Grimes gave a little squeak to feel the man's warm and firm hand gently touch her back and help her into the space. She instinctively put out her hand to feel for the familiar polished wood of the lip of the bar and was careful of the brass rail at the bottom on the outside for the men to step their feet on: she had cracked her shin on that the first time she had come in. There wasn't much she could do about the odd spittoon on the floor: they seemed to range wild and free like the cattle on the prairie, and every time she accidentally kicked or hit one with her stick and it made a loud metallic clang!, a ragged cheer went up from a few of the rounders and some wag would cry out "Say boys, Franny's kicked the bucket agin!"
It was the rough, but well meant humor of the old West.
"I hope you don't mind me taking liberties by bringing you closer to the bar, now that you can move forward."
"Not at all, thank you." Miss Grimes replied, reaching out in the darkness and finding the hand that had touched her back with her own, clasped it. "My name is Frances Grimes, I play the piano here. I really do appreciate your help, Mister...?"
Now... Arabella always laughed when Frances said things like "I met a gentleman today - he sounded very handsome!" but that was all she had to go on for now - and this man's voice did 'sound handsome' She would have to ask someone later what he looked like. This, again, used to astound her friend: 'You can't see him, Franny, what do you care whether he looks like a hero or a hog?" But it did make a strange difference to the girl, who, like many young people, over-worried about what other people thought of her. The attractiveness of her beau would naturally reflect on her attractiveness. She didn't want people to say of her prospective sweetheart 'that boy's so plumb ugly he had to tumble a blind gal!'
Unfortunately, Arabella was useless at telling her how appealing a feller was, as she didn't find men attractive. Others were too kind hearted, or two mean hearted and didn't give you an honest opinion. Jemima Wigfall was her best bet: Jemima had an entire scoring system set out for rating the relative merits of Kalispell's unmarried men (and married men too, to her shame).
Mister Vaughn, whom Frances had once thought was interested in her, had been given a definite thumbs down by Jemima, mainly because he was too shy and slow at courting, but also because 'No woman wants a beau who's prettier than she is!' Later that week, once she had had a chance to inspect Mister Adam Townsend properly, Jemima would report to Frances that he was "10 out of 10 grade A Beef"
For now though, she had the firm warm voice and the firm warm hand to go on, his courteous manners, and she even picked up a little on the way other men treated Adam, like an automatic authority and respect he had generated, even in a roustabout like Jimmy Miller. People tended to think that a blind girl must be without romantical feelings; for her part, Miss Grimes' tummy was doing loop-de-loops.
She gave an area of space about six inches from Adam's head her best smile, as coached by Arabella ('no don't show them funny peg teeth! That's it, close your mouth, no not so wide, you look like you got rigor mortis!) and then said, to where she thought the bartender was, "Can I leave this money in your care, Mister Flandry?"
"One beer comin' up," Ralph nodded and went to pour a foamy glassful for the man.
Meanwhile their piano player, Frances, stumbled on her way up to the bar but the newcomer was most gentlemanly with her. Ralph liked that, he was defensive as hell about the females who worked the saloon - Caroline, Frances, and even Messalina. But this man knew how to treat the poor little thing so he let them talk while he shoved the glass near the man's place at the bar.
"There ya go! Sir, be a nickel," he announced.
Speaking of coins, Frances was there for one of her deposits of tips. He couldn't blame the girl, her being blind n' all some miscreant might stoop to raiding the tip jar and she wouldn't even know it. Of course if Ralph would catch some jasper doing that, that unfortunate would soon himself with a broken wrist and out on his ass on the boardwalk.
"Can I leave this money in your care, Mister Flandry?"
Ralph nodded but realized he needed to talk given who he was dealing with, "Certainly, kiddo. I got it, I'll pour it in your box down below. You ever need it counted, just ask. Or Caroline would be happy to do it for ya too."
But there was a customer to focus on, Ralph glanced to the man, "You seem to be new in town. I know a lot of the locals. Just passin' thru?" Maybe he came off the stage?
Address me as Hon. Hiram Priest, esq.
Hiram Priest was just about to place the six-of-Hearts 'neath the seven-of-spades when he stopped to send a stream of tobacco juice into the brass spittoon set beside his chair. It was a perfect hit. Now, if he could just get that song out of his head.
The grandfather's clock was too large for the shelf, so it stood ninety-years on the floor. It was taller by half than the old man himself, though it weighed not a penny-weight more...
It was a nice, sentimental tune, but the former Judge and Mayor was anything but sentimental, still he knew the syrupy tune would play for hours in his head.
He played his card.
Hiram's role, at least his most recent role, was to keep an eye on the action on the saloon floor. Watch the hired staff and the clientele. Listen to the latest gossip and report anything noteworthy to Franklin Fortner. Plus, given his background, offer advice to most who sought it.
.... but it stopped short, never to run again, when the old man died.
That damned song!!
"Not at all, thank you." Miss Grimes replied, reaching out in the darkness and finding the hand that had touched her back with her own, clasped it. "My name is Frances Grimes, I play the piano here. I really do appreciate your help, Mister...?"
"Adam Townsend," he replied as he took the offered hand and shook it lightly.
A piano player...that made sense and the reason why she was at the bar depositing money with the bartender. In his time, he had known a couple of players who could a piano with their eyes closed. It was an instrument where once you learned where everything was, it was easy to master.
Before he could ruminate or say any more about the young Miss Grimes, the bartender returned.
"There ya go! Sir, be a nickel," he announced.
After pulling a nickel out his vest pocket, Adam took a sip of the beer and found it was pretty good. He listened as the bartender helped Frances before returning to him.
But there was a customer to focus on, Ralph glanced to the man, "You seem to be new in town. I know a lot of the locals. Just passin' thru?" Maybe he came off the stage?
"You're right, I am new. Whether or not I'm passing through depends," Adam answered before taking another sip of the beer.
"What I am doing here is looking to invest and I always like to get the lay of the land before I jump in. Now I could go somewhere like the bank or the local law enforcement, or even the town council...if you have one to find out what's what but they are more likely to embellish things a lot more than they really are, especially if they smell money. I rather hear what the normal everyday folk think about the town they live to find out if it's worth investing in."
As Adam waited for the bartender to reply, he took another sip of his beer. There was no need to tell anyone yet that is investment was going to be time and his expertise in the law.
"Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see the shadows" - Helen Keller
Ralph nodded but realized he needed to talk given who he was dealing with, "Certainly, kiddo. I got it, I'll pour it in your box down below. You ever need it counted, just ask. Or Caroline would be happy to do it for ya too."
"Thankyou Mister Flandry, that would be ever so kind of you." she beamed. She had no trouble counting the coinage, the American coinage, that is: but on the rare occasion that someone put paper bills in she was foxed: there was also the angst that she probably hadn't said thankyou to that person either! Sometimes foreign coins would make their way into her little pot as well: Canadian, Mexican, or really odd stuff like the the coin Arabella called her "Chinese Honkytonky Dime": a round coin with strange engravings on it and a square hole in the middle which she kept on her as a sort of good luck charm, if nothing else. She certainly couldn't spend it.
She made her way back to the piano and, who knew, perhaps dislodged 'Judge' Priest's current earworm with another tune. What to play? She could still hear the voice of the kind man who had helped her. Adam Townsend. For some reason, and despite the fact that the management generally disapproved of her performing classical pieces as 'bad for business' she found herself playing Chopin's Ballade number 2 in F major: the happy sad strains of the tune seemed to match Mr Townsend's voice... or at least, her feelings about it.
"What I am doing here is looking to invest and I always like to get the lay of the land before I jump in. Now I could go somewhere like the bank or the local law enforcement, or even the town council...if you have one to find out what's what but they are more likely to embellish things a lot more than they really are, especially if they smell money. I rather hear what the normal everyday folk think about the town they live to find out if it's worth investing in."
Ralph nodded at his explanation, he supposed it made sense. However...
"Not sure I'm exactly everyday folk.........I spend most of my life behind this bar........or sleepin'," he gave a shrug and a wry smile.
"I can tell ya, the saloon does good business. And the town's growin' all the time. I only been here now for going on two years. But people born here can tell ya a whole lot more I'm sure."
"Oh...yeah, we got us a hospital coming soon. Small town like this havin' their own hospital. Think that's a feather in the town cap," Ralph added.