It was a warm morning and a threat to rain going by those darkening clouds in the sky. So Caroline was on a mission. She even ignored one nasty boy who called out to her 'strumpet' as she strolled down the boardwalk. Kid learned such a word from his folks no doubt. She was not about to engage in a name calling incident with a stupid ten year old. Actually she'd been called far worse in her life. She was content with who she was, who cared what others thought of her.
There was an OPEN sign in the window so she turned the doorknob and marched right in, hearing the little tinkle of the bell strategically located within the inside doorway. Quite the cozy little place, absolutely no doubt it was a gun shop alright. Not that she expected anything different. Inside her purse was the gun she had agreed to bring. Now all she needed was the owner of the joint.
"Hello? Anybody home?"
A good person is like a good gun: Reliable to the Last.
A loud clang could be heard from the back room, followed by, "CURSE YOU, HARLOT FROM HELL!"
Then another clang. Then, "All right, then. Good girl."
Apparently, Roland hadn't heard the bell on the door, but the call of "Hello? Anybody home?" caught his ear well enough.
He came out of the back room to the front counter, wiping his hands with a towel.
"Miss Caroline," he smiled as he saw her, "a pleasure. Please forgive any French you may have heard. I'm a bit of a polyglot when I get my ire up, and my little steam engine has been a stubborn girl this morning. Would you care for some tea? I've got a kettle on."
Of course, Roland always had a kettle on.
Caroline blinked at the gruff and loud "Curse you, harlot from hell!"
Fortunately she was quite sure the remark was not directed at her or at least it better not have been if the man wanted his gun back! There was a followup though in a lof friendlier tone.
He came out of the back room to the front counter, wiping his hands with a towel.
"Miss Caroline," he smiled as he saw her, "a pleasure. Please forgive any French you may have heard. I'm a bit of a polyglot when I get my ire up, and my little steam engine has been a stubborn girl this morning. Would you care for some tea? I've got a kettle on."
"I don't know French but that weren't no French, Mr. Smith," she was smiling, Caroline was usually smiling. Now she knew 'ire' but polyglot, new one on her. No matter. Just maybe that was French?
"Oh no thank ya but help yerself, I don't mind none. I'm a coffee drinker myself," she went right up to the counter between them and placed her red leather purse on the wooden countertop.
"I brung that gun you were lookin' for. The one that idiot jasper killed the mermaid with," she then fished out the revolver but did not set it down.......yet. She was also quite careful though not to point it at him nor have her finger anywhere near the trigger.
"Now...if this is the one you mean.....you can have it back," then paused for effect, "For a price of course."
All said with a grin but she did not yet offer him the piece.
A good person is like a good gun: Reliable to the Last.
"Well," Roland said with a smile, "we British blame anything vulgar in our lives on the French."
When she refused his tea, he uttered a "Hmm," and contemplated that he should probably acquire a stock of coffee for customers who didn't appreciate the finest things in life. Oh, he could drink a coffee and even be grateful of it... but it was no Darjeeling.
He went to the stove, not far into the back room, and came back with a tray balanced on one hand and a kettle carried in the other. He set the tray down as she spoke, muttering, "In case you change your mind." He didn't think she would, but he was obligated by the rules of hospitality to keep the beverage available. He poured himself a cup with milk and sugar, and stirred it as he listened.
"That is the very piece. Though I almost consider it half-cursed given the stir Craddock caused with it. Perhaps your gentle hands have washed away the sin." He winked at her and took a sip from his cup.
"...you can have it back," she paused for effect, "For a price of course."
Roland arched a brow as he set his cup back down.
"I live in suspense, wondering what price the lovely Miss Caroline shall extract from the poor gunmaker Roland Smith."
A hundred things flitted through his mind, and he was sure it wasn't any of them.
Pity.
Well," Roland said with a smile, "we British blame anything vulgar in our lives on the French."
Caroline, "Hmm. It seems ta me you Eng- oops British blame the French for a lotta stuff. You burnt that poor French girl, Joan of Arc too. I read it in a book and I liked her. Just didn't deserve that sorta end."
Anyhow, she was there about the gun not ancient history. Ah yes she now presented said gun.
"That is the very piece. Though I almost consider it half-cursed given the stir Craddock caused with it. Perhaps your gentle hands have washed away the sin." He winked at her and took a sip from his cup.
She chuckled, "Most folks would say I bathe in sin. But actually I just wrapped it in a towel and put it in my room til today."
She then informed the man the gun would only be returned for a price though.
"I live in suspense, wondering what price the lovely Miss Caroline shall extract from the poor gunmaker Roland Smith."
"Well then, I shall keep you in suspense no longer. I will give you back this fine gun if you agree to come into the saloon some fine evening and ask me for a dance. Otherwise no deal. I do not entertain bargaining, sir," again that bright smile of hers accompanied her unbending terms.
A good person is like a good gun: Reliable to the Last.
Roland was caught by surprise when she mentioned Joan of Arc.
He needed to stop underestimating people.
"Ah, yes, well... that was actually a most despicable incident. I hope we've corrected our honor since then, and embarked on a better path. In fact, I recall the Duke and Dutchess of Sutherland erected a monument to her. It stands in Buckinghamshire, I believe. Poor payment for what she endured. But a gesture of apology and respect for the Sainted woman, and a promise to do better."
He seemed genuinely saddened as he spoke on it. The mistreatment of women was one of the highest sins that Roland could imagine. Albeit, his definition of 'mistreatment' differed from polite custom. There were many disrespectful acts he would gladly engage upon with a willing partner.
Finally came the price, and Roland's eyes went wide, and his smile was broad.
"Why Miss Caroline. You bring me my gun and a gift besides? I would be most glad and honored to share a dance with so graceful and beautiful a partner."
Well. This day was off on the right note. He was positively flush with good feeling.
"And next you visit me here, I will be sure to have all the coffee you care to drink."
He reached out in the hopes of taking her hand. "I look forward to the melody and the magic ahead."
Caroline smirked, "Poor Joan, burnt to a crisp and she gets a monument centuries later. Sure she feels better 'bout things now."
Well, it wasn't like Mr. Smith lit her on fire so enough of that topic. Caroline moved on to bargaining - she'd give back his gun for a price. Not that she had any intention of getting money out of the man for his own gun, but this was more just funnin' around. Caroline was a great tease.
Why Miss Caroline. You bring me my gun and a gift besides? I would be most glad and honored to share a dance with so graceful and beautiful a partner."
"Kinda thought you'd cave into my terms," she grinned.
"And next you visit me here, I will be sure to have all the coffee you care to drink."
"Or............I wouldn't be turnin' down a shot of some liquor next time," she added. Sadly, like most in her line of business, she'd become an alcoholic even if she wasn't aware of it.
He reached out in the hopes of taking her hand. "I look forward to the melody and the magic ahead."
She let him do so, "Good to know! My piano player knows a lot of dance tunes. Though there will be some pressure on you. I'm a veteran dancer and if you aren't up to snuff then you will have to keep doin' it til I am satisfied. I have my standards."
Again that was mostly a tease but she did hope the fellow wasn't one of those bumblers who stepped all over her feet.