Fortner placed his palms down on the table and asked, "What do you think?"
"I can start right away!" the girl said with alacrity "I assume that the wage mentioned in the advertisement also includes bed and board." she stated, rather than asked: it wasn't beyond some employers to take back a workers entire wage and say it was their due in order to feed them and provide a roof over their head.
The young woman was certainly agreeable. If only Miss Cutts had half the looks that his "Nightingale" did, and if his Nightingale had half the courtesy that Sally Cutts did, he'd be in the clover.
"All right. Go get your trappings and we'll have one of the girls clear out a spare storeroom for you to bunk in. If necessary, you can bunk with one of them. We'll have to see. We'll make sure to show you the ropes and..."
Franklin was sidetracked when someone new entered the saloon. His entrance must have coincided with a gust of cold air because he felt an unpleasant draft.
He was not the only one to notice the newcomer, for Hiram Priest nearly choked on his wad of tobacco at the sight of the man, for he knew him only too well. Quickly, he slid out of his chair and slipped in the backroom.
Fortner got back on track.
"Okay, Sally. Wages start today and just to give you a nice welcome, I'll give you a whole day's wages even though we're past noon." He smiled broadly, happy to get new blood in the place.
"All right. Go get your trappings and we'll have one of the girls clear out a spare storeroom for you to bunk in. If necessary, you can bunk with one of them. We'll have to see."
Sally tried to suppress a frown: looking around the place, the only other 'girls' she could see were trollops from the brothel (oh, she had overheard all about the new bordello from the excited talk of the soldiers at the Fort, and was somewhat disgruntled to find that it was commonly known as 'Sally's Place' after the proprietress, Sally Adams). Well, there was also the pretty singer: she could only hope that she was the 'girl' Mr Fortner had in mind.
"Oh, I took a chance and have my bags outside the back." Sally informed him.
"We'll make sure to show you the ropes and..."
The young woman couldn't help but follow Fortner and Priest's gaze and her eyes, like theirs, rested on a moustachioed gent in his 30s, perhaps, who had just entered the bar. Furthermore, she could not help also notice the elderly Priest's immediate quick exit!
"Okay, Sally. Wages start today and just to give you a nice welcome, I'll give you a whole day's wages even though we're past noon." He smiled broadly, happy to get new blood in the place.
"Don't you worry, Mister Fortner: I'll earn that full day' pay before I go to sleep in my storeroom tonight!" she declared boldly, pointing a finger at him decisively. "I'll go and introduce myself to the cook, and get my traps..." (that sounded impressive: all she really had was a carpet bag with a spare dress and a change of underwear stuffed in it) "... and then someone can show me what's what. You won't regret this Mister Fortner!" she assured him.
She gave him a sort of salute and marched toward the back, hoping to find the kitchen. Instead she bumped into Hiram Priest.
She gave the harmless looking old gent a smile.
"You all right mister? I couldn't help notice you high-tail it when that feller with the lip foliage moseyed in" she asked kindly. "He bad news?"
Ralph leaned in toward Caroline, "What's goin' on there? Fortner recruiting now for hookers? She don't look like one." They both could tell some sort of agreement was reached.
"Maybe...........on the other hand he did put an ad in the local rag about hiring someone to do cleanin' and such around here," Caroline theorized.
"That could be. Suppose we'll find out that is if he ever bothers to tell us anything," Ralph shrugged.
"Yeah well me n' Fortner don't have us a whole lot of conversations no more. Just when we need to," Caroline now observed someone new enter the place, a man she had not seen previously but then they get those quite often - passerbys, men getting off stages, those sort.Quite the mustache.
Address me as Hon. Hiram Priest, esq.
The deal was sealed; Sally Cutts would begin her career at the Stardust immediately, and she wasted no time in heading to the backrooms where she would find someone to show her the ropes, but instead she encountered Hiram Priest.
She gave the harmless looking old gent a smile.
"You all right mister? I couldn't help notice you high-tail it when that feller with the lip foliage moseyed in" she asked kindly. "He bad news?"
Priest gave the girl an up-and-down look.
"Are you our new chore girl?" he asked her. He used "our" when talking about the ownership of the saloon. After all, he helped Fortner steer the long-range plans for the watering hole, as well he loaned Fortner some money to close the deal those months ago. He went to the door to the main floor which as slightly ajar and peaked out.
It was Murrell, Jacob Murrell, and Priest had reason to be concerned.
"It was a hot afternoon a few years earlier, and the makeshift courtroom in the town of Sullivan, Missouri, was packed. The occasion was the trial of Jacob Murrell --- Judge Hiram Priest presiding. Murrell was guilty of mayhem, arson, counterfeiting and manslaughter. The jury couldn't decide on the murder charge, so the lesser "manslaughter" was agreed to. The convicted, a guard on each side of him, stood before Priest, ready to received his sentence.
"Mr. Jacob Murrell," began Judge Priest. "Inasmuch as a jury of your peers has found you guilty of a number of crimes: mayhem, manslaughter.."
Murrell interrupted him as he spat on the floor and asked, "Is there anything I didn't that didn't start with "m"?"
The guards ratcheted up their grip on him, causing Murrell to wince.
"If there's anything else, I'd gladly add it," rejoined Priest. "I am not going to debate you, Jacob Murrell, so I'll get right to the sentence." He sent a streak of tobacco into a spittoon resting at his feet. "I sentence you to five-years hard labor at the Missouri State Penitentiary. Normally I'd reduce the sentence for time-served while you were waiting for trial, but in your case I won't." He pointed at the guards. "Take him away!"
As they turned the convict to leave, he twisted around and shouted, "I'll kill you Hiram Priest, so help me I'll kill you!"
Hiram carefully closed the door to the saloon floor, and to Sally Cutts answered, "He's bad trouble, young Miss. If'n I were you, I'd steer clear of that man."
Back in the saloon, Jacob Murrell made his way to the bar.
"What's man need to do to get a drink in this place?" he asked Ralph.
"You all right mister? I couldn't help notice you high-tail it when that feller with the lip foliage moseyed in" she asked kindly. "He bad news?"
Priest gave the girl an up-and-down look.
"Are you our new chore girl?" he asked her.
"Uh huh." she nodded. There might have been a less drab job title, but it basically described the role and Sally wasn't one to try and gild the lily. "Who is he?!" she hissed.
Hiram carefully closed the door to the saloon floor, and to Sally Cutts answered, "He's bad trouble, young Miss. If'n I were you, I'd steer clear of that man."
She frowned, cracked the door open a little, took another peep, and closed it again. "Bad trouble as opposed to 'good trouble'?" she quipped. There was no such thing as 'Good Trou.... oh, yes there was! She'd forgotten about that. It usually came in packages that were 6 foot tall, with flashing eyes, gleaming teeth and cowboy hat on top.
"That's all right, he's not my type, Pops." she assured him.
Mrs McMahon appeared out of the kitchen, wondering who was talking out here in the Hall.
"Lawd, Lawd, Mister Priest! What you doin' back here? You come to help me peel my 'taters?!" she joked "And who might this be?!" she inquired. She didn't look like one of the whores, not gussied up enough.
Address me as Hon. Hiram Priest, esq.
Hiram carefully closed the door to the saloon floor, and to Sally Cutts answered, "He's bad trouble, young Miss. If'n I were you, I'd steer clear of that man."
She frowned, cracked the door open a little, took another peep, and closed it again. "Bad trouble as opposed to 'good trouble'?" she quipped. There was no such thing as 'Good Trou.... oh, yes there was! She'd forgotten about that. It usually came in packages that were 6 foot tall, with flashing eyes, gleaming teeth and cowboy hat on top.
"That's all right, he's not my type, Pops." she assured him.
"I'm just telling you. That's all." the wily Judge informed her.
Mrs McMahon appeared out of the kitchen, wondering who was talking out here in the Hall.
"Lawd, Lawd, Mister Priest! What you doin' back here? You come to help me peel my 'taters?!" she joked "And who might this be?!" she inquired. She didn't look like one of the whores, not gussied up enough.
Priest tugged at his chin.
"Well Mrs. McMahon, this here is Miss ... well, I didn't get her name yet, but she's the new helper around here. The Boss Man just hired her." He stepped back and appraised her. "She looks a purty fit, if you ask me. She won't pass out at your feet like that gal we had before her."
The last "chore girl" to be hired was Betsy VanMeer, a young woman who worked at the Mercantile in town. The pay was paltry, so she tried better stuff and answered the Stardust's advertisement. She wanted the job badly and even though Fortner thought that she was a bit thin, he gave her a chance. After a couple of days of mopping and scrubbing, Mrs. McMahon put her shelling peas in the hot, stuffy kitchen. Soon, over she went, splayed out like a catch-of-the-day.
"You don't mind peas, do you?" joked Priest.
"Well Mrs. McMahon, this here is Miss ... well, I didn't get her name yet, but she's the new helper around here."
"Cutts" Sally filled in the blank, helpfully.
"The Boss Man just hired her." He stepped back and appraised her. "She looks a purty fit, if you ask me. She won't pass out at your feet like that gal we had before her."
Miss Cutts struck a pose, with one hand on her hip and the other up in the air, artistic like. "You said it Pops! I'm not the fainting type. I was a laundress at the Fort" she informed them proudly.
"You don't mind peas, do you?" joked Priest.
"I don't mind peas, but I mind my Ps and Qs!" replied Sally smartly.
"Oh, sassy, huh?" chided Mrs McMahon, crossing her arms across her not inconsiderable bosom. However, there was a gleam in her eye: she still missed Arabella and Arabella had been sassier than a cat.
"Well, Missy Sally Cutts, I'm Mrs Messalina McMahon, but you can call me Cookie. Now, how about you get back out there and collect up some glasses and bring 'em back out here and wash 'em up in the kitchen." the Imperatrix of the Kitchen commanded her.
"Yes, Ma'am!" beamed Sally and almost ran back out front to commence her new job.
To the old man, Cookie cooed "Now Mister Priest, you look like you seen a ghost: how about you come back in the kitchen and have a nice cup of coffee and cookie?"
Meanwhile, Sally, entering the main body of the saloon, immediately bumped into Caroline Mundee, the singer.
"Hello, I'm Sally Cutts, I'm the new help!" she blurted happily.
Back in the saloon, Jacob Murrell made his way to the bar.
Ralph had just removed an empty beer glass from the bar top when he glanced to the latest customer.
"What's man need to do to get a drink in this place?" the newcomer asked Ralph.
Ralph paused but answered dryly, "Well you could start by tellin' me what drink do ya want?" He wasn't a mindreader.
Caroline was eyeing the new customer and his exchange with Ralph, she thought that was a strange way to ask for a drink but it takes all kinds in htis here world.
Meanwhile, Sally, entering the main body of the saloon, immediately bumped into Caroline Mundee, the singer.
Ahhh, this was the gal Fortner was chatting with him a few minutes earlier. She sure seemed in a good mood, this one.
"Hello, I'm Sally Cutts, I'm the new help!" she blurted happily.
"In answer to the ad in the paper? Well, then Sally Cutts, welcome! I'm Caroline, Caroline Mundee. I'm the place's singer," the saloon gal replied with a warm smile.
"So where ya from?" she just asked to start up a conversation.
"In answer to the ad in the paper? Well, then Sally Cutts, welcome! I'm Caroline, Caroline Mundee. I'm the place's singer," the saloon gal replied with a warm smile.
"I know, I heard you when I came in: I think you're terrific!" Sally said enthusiastically: on first meeting, she was as bright and breezy as Arabella had been, but without the baggage. "Must be wonderful to have a talent like that."
"So where ya from?" she just asked to start up a conversation.
Sally laughed "He he, well everywhere really! My Dad was in the Army, so I was traipsed all over the country when I was a kid. Specially during the War. But I first saw the light of the world at a place called Camp Verde so I guess I'm a Lone Star State girl, even if I don't talk like one!" she grinned "How about you - you from round here?" she asked.
"This place sure looks like an exciting place to work!" the new girl said positively, looking around. "Who's the tall, stern lookin' feller behind the bar?" she asked, her doe eyes drawn toward the saturnine custodian of the beer bottles.
