Whilst acknowledging the applause, Caroline did reach and pat Chubby's hand as she gave him a smile of appreciation. He did just fine, she liked him already.Seemed like Fortner wasn't making a fuss about his being hired which was good but she was more than willing to fight for him to keep the job should her boss disagree. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that.
The new man, with all the money, liked her performance too.
Jacob Murrell smiled broadly. "Miss Mundee, that was the best Nellie Bly I've heard since I was in Natchez, and that's been a long time." He reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out the sought after ten-dollar gold piece. He handed it to Caroline. "You know, Miss. You could sign-on with the big stages in places like Denver and Frisco."
"Thank you for the compliments and of course the gold piece," Caroline pocketed it with a grin.
"Hey hey," cautioned Fortner, good naturedly. "She's our star attraction." He turned to his nightingale. "Ain't that right?"
"I ain't goin' anywhere, don't worry, boss. I like small towns more'n big cities, one of the reasons I left Chicago when I was young," she assured him.
Left unsaid was she fled Chicago after blowing a man's brains out with a derringer round in the back of the head. The papers had it as a murder, to the vengeful girl it was justice and to this day she had no regrets.
They say my Pa killed over 400 people. I 'spect I got some catchin' up to do.
"I ain't goin' anywhere, don't worry, boss. I like small towns more'n big cities, one of the reasons I left Chicago when I was young," she assured him.
Left unsaid was she fled Chicago after blowing a man's brains out with a derringer round in the back of the head. The papers had it as a murder, to the vengeful girl it was justice and to this day she had no regrets.
"That a girl!" enthused her employer. The last thing he wanted was to lose his star attraction.
Jacob Murrell, ever assessing and calculating, sized up Franklin Fortner. To him, the man behind the fancy vest and suit of clothes had deep secrets that he held inside, just as he did himself. He looked like he had a temper, yet he looked like a man he could do business with,..maybe.
Murrell held up his hands, palms out, as if to say, No argument from me.
"Barkeep! Let's have another round," Murrell ordered.
He turned to them both.
"I'm wondering. You've been in town awhile. Tell me. Have you seen an old man around here? An old man in fancy clothes? He's got white hair and mouthful of chaw. Goes by the name, Hiram Priest."
"Thatta girl," smiled Fortner.
Caroline figured he'd like her answer but it was the truth. She still didn't like the man, but at the same time, she liked it here and she'd work for him.
Murrell held up his hands, palms out, as if to say, No argument from me.
"Barkeep! Let's have another round," Murrell ordered.
"Another round comin' up," Ralph got straight on that.
Murrell turned to them both.
"I'm wondering. You've been in town awhile. Tell me. Have you seen an old man around here? An old man in fancy clothes? He's got white hair and mouthful of chaw. Goes by the name, Hiram Priest."
Caroline turned and her blue eyes bore in on Fortner. Priest was Fortner's toady or maybe even partner, she didn't quite know the particulars. If it were left to her she'd tell the newcomer the truth. Priest was known alright, he lived in the place! But maybe her boss didn't want that.
"I'm wondering. You've been in town awhile. Tell me. Have you seen an old man around here? An old man in fancy clothes? He's got white hair and mouthful of chaw. Goes by the name, Hiram Priest."
Caroline turned and her blue eyes bore in on Fortner. Priest was Fortner's toady or maybe even partner, she didn't quite know the particulars. If it were left to her she'd tell the newcomer the truth. Priest was known alright, he lived in the place! But maybe her boss didn't want that.
Fortner gave Carolyn a stern expression.
"We got a lot of old codgers in Kalispell; They come and they go," he answered dismissively, but then, suddenly, he snapped his fingers. "Ya know. Seems there was someone here who answers to that description. He was kind of thin and a little stooped. He wore a dirty old top hat. I heard him say he was headin' for Santa Fe."
Jacob Murrell nodded as he took in every word. "Santa Fe?"
"That's what he said." --- Fortner didn't like to be grilled with questions. "Now," he slapped his hands together. "I've got to get back to runnin' this place, if you'll excuse me."
After Fortner left for the backroom, Murrell edged closer towards Caroline.
"Santa Fe sure it a heap of miles from this burg," he declared while slowly shaking his head. "It don't seem right, somehow." He lifted his newly filled glass and bolted the contents down his throat. "Sound right to you?" he asked her.
"Santa Fe sure it a heap of miles from this burg," he declared while slowly shaking his head. "It don't seem right, somehow." He lifted his newly filled glass and bolted the contents down his throat. "Sound right to you?" he asked her.
Carolyn didn't have to answer that awkward question as the very next moment Scrappy Craddock burst through the swing doors with a fistful of dollars and a shout of "Howdy Pardners! Where's Priest? Ol' Miggins actually paid me some wages today an' I wanna win back that ten dollars the ol' scalper robbed off of me last night. Huh! 'Game o' chance' my eye! He had more cards up his sleeves than the rest of us put together had in our hands!"
He looked around expectantly, and saw Murrell staring at him.
"Say, what's eatin' you, stranger?" the diminutive but pugnacious cowpuncher asked, craning his neck up to meet the six footer's dead shark-eyed gaze.
Fortner gave her a stern look. What the hell? She hadn't even said anything to answer the man's question but was leaving it up to him. Unsurprisingly Fortner proceeded to lie. Caroline wondered how much truth ever came out of that man's mouth? Well, she was not about to contradict his answer. Personally she wished old Priest had really headed off to Santa Fe............better yet. To hell would be even more fitting.
Murell seemed a little surprised and then more than a little doubtful about that answer. She didn't blame him. New Mexico was a long ways from Montana, she herself had never been that far south. And then Fortner abruptly departed, saying he was busy.
The newcomer lifted his newly filled glass and bolted the contents down his throat. "Sound right to you?" he asked her.
Caroline had yet to decide exactly how to answer that one when who else but one of their least welcome yet still quite regular customers sauntered on in and answered for her.
"Howdy Pardners! Where's Priest? Ol' Miggins actually paid me some wages today an' I wanna win back that ten dollars the ol' scalper robbed off of me last night. Huh! 'Game o' chance' my eye! He had more cards up his sleeves than the rest of us put together had in our hands!"
He looked around expectantly, and saw Murrell staring at him.
"Say, what's eatin' you, stranger?" the diminutive but pugnacious cowpuncher asked, craning his neck up to meet the six footer's dead shark-eyed gaze.
Caroline just leaned with her backside against the bar and sipped her drink. Well, this Murrell knew now but at least she'd never lied to him about it.
They say my Pa killed over 400 people. I 'spect I got some catchin' up to do.
In the backroom, Fortner grabbed Priest by his narrow shoulders and spun him around.
"We got a problem, friend," he asserted.
Priest nodded. "Yep. I saw him come into the place.
Together, they moved to where a door was slightly ajar so they could listen.
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The newcomer lifted his newly filled glass and bolted the contents down his throat. "Sound right to you?" he asked her.
Caroline had yet to decide exactly how to answer that one when who else but one of their least welcome yet still quite regular customers sauntered on in and answered for her.
"Howdy Pardners! Where's Priest? Ol' Miggins actually paid me some wages today an' I wanna win back that ten dollars the ol' scalper robbed off of me last night. Huh! 'Game o' chance' my eye! He had more cards up his sleeves than the rest of us put together had in our hands!"
He looked around expectantly, and saw Murrell staring at him.
"Say, what's eatin' you, stranger?" the diminutive but pugnacious cowpuncher asked, craning his neck up to meet the six footer's dead shark-eyed gaze.
Caroline just leaned with her backside against the bar and sipped her drink. Well, this Murrell knew now but at least she'd never lied to him about it.
Murrell looked the cowpoke up and down with his dead gray eyes and. "You've got an awful big mouth, Mister," he drawled in tones more suited to a bet on a riverboat than a Montana Territory saloon. He'd met hot heads like Craddock in the past and knew how to handle them.
"So you got paid," he continued. "Nice to get paid for shoveling manure all day."
"Say, what's eatin' you, stranger?" the diminutive but pugnacious cowpuncher asked, craning his neck up to meet the six footer's dead shark-eyed gaze.
Murrell looked the cowpoke up and down with his dead gray eyes and. "You've got an awful big mouth, Mister," he drawled in tones more suited to a bet on a riverboat than a Montana Territory saloon.
Scrappy put his hand on his hips.
"Wha...? Are you lookin' for a fight?" he asked with a sort of confused frown, making sure he hadn't misheard.
"So you got paid," he continued. "Nice to get paid for shoveling manure all day."
Scrappy scratched the back of his head, shoving his hat forward: a second later, he was throwing himself at the smartly dressed killer, fists flying. It was a short lived battle: Scrappy got a few good punches in, but despite the number of scraps he got himself into, he was no John L. Sullivan and the other man's superior, almost scientific, skill in the art of fisticuffs meant that the little fellow soon took an uppercut that sent him barrelling over a table, sending beer glasses flying and ending up stretched out, out cold, on the floor the other side.
The fight was over so quickly that Ralph Flandry didn't even get a chance to pull out his famous chair leg and use it to quell the two pugilists.
Hettie Rosenkrantz ran forward and snatched up the $10 that Scrappy had dropped. "Carry Scraps back to my place boys, he just paid me to nurse him back to health." she said, tucking the bills in her cleavage. It might have looked like a mercenary move, but she was more intent in getting the idiot safely out of there.
Ladies of the evening couldn't afford to be too fussy about who they liked or disliked, but Murrell had two black marks against his name now in her mind, and if she ever got a chance to pay him back for insulting her, boy would she take it.
@[Preston]
If Scrappy had even thought Ralph would jump in to break it up, he was mistaken. Neither Ralph nor Caroline budged but simply remained bystanders to the thrashing Murrell ended up giving him. Ralph rolled his eyes, Caroline even smirked. Both the saloon employees had no liking for Scrappy whatsoever.
All Caroline could manage was a "Well, that didn't take long."
Hettie the whore came to Scrappy's rescue, well sort of, that is she volunteered to take care of him. Caroline saw her pocket the money that now WAS Scrappy's. Like she cared.
"Well, mister, you ever do a little prize fighting?" Caroline asked Murrell with a grin.
They say my Pa killed over 400 people. I 'spect I got some catchin' up to do.
It had been on Murrell's mind to diffuse the situation. It was his experience that fighting was the last resort. In this case, the cowpoke gave him no choice. With a flurry of rapid but uncoordinated swings, slaps, hits and misses, Scrappy flew at the stranger. It was no contest. Murrell watched for openings, and there were some wide ones, to throw a left hook that landed right on his assailant's jaw, sending him sprawling onto the saloon floor.
All Caroline could manage was a "Well, that didn't take long."
Hettie the whore came to Scrappy's rescue, well sort of, that is she volunteered to take care of him. Caroline saw her pocket the money that now WAS Scrappy's. Like she cared.
"Well, mister, you ever do a little prize fighting?" Caroline asked Murrell with a grin.
Murrell flashed a quick smile, white teeth against a mild flush, and answered her. "No prize fighting, Miss. This one," he pointed to the floor where Scrappy lay, "asked for it. It's the last thing I wanted to do." And he meant it. "Hope we didn't frighten the Montana Nightingale," he added slyly. He was beginning to take a shine to Caroline.
"Another round," he asked of Ralph. "One for me and one for the lady."