"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."

Caroline huffed, "Oh, ain't the first time he's asked fer it. He's an idiot."

 "Hope we didn't frighten the Montana Nightingale," he added slyly.

That got a laugh from the saloon girl, "That? I've been in the middle of a gunfight inside a saloon, I've been captured by Indians even. A little fisticuffs is nothin'. Takes a lot to scare me."

"Another round," Murrell asked of Ralph. "One for me and one for the lady."

"You got it," Ralph nodded and soon two more drinks were poured.

The liquor was expensive and good quality, Caroline did not want to get drunk. That was why normally Ralph poured her colored water but it was hard to do that when both drinks were coming out of the same bottle.

"Appreciate it but I'm gonna nurse this one fer awhile if you don't mind none. Oh...I should tell ya somethin'. That man yer lookin' for, Priest. Him and my boss are pretty thick. Longtime friends or business partners....somethin' like that," Caroline informed him.

The liquor was expensive and good quality, Caroline did not want to get drunk. That was why normally Ralph poured her colored water but it was hard to do that when both drinks were coming out of the same bottle.

"Appreciate it but I'm gonna nurse this one fer awhile if you don't mind none. Oh...I should tell ya somethin'. That man yer lookin' for, Priest. Him and my boss are pretty thick. Longtime friends or business partners....somethin' like that," Caroline informed him.

A sinister smile crossed Murrell's lips prior to sipping his drink.

"Is that a fact?" he murmured.  "Is that a fact?"

Things were falling into place for him.  There was no doubt about it.  It might have been that lunatic cowpoke who was still sprawled on the floor, nursing a facial bruise, but it would soon be that old bastard, Hiram Priest, sprawled out with a gunshot wound to his head.  And for good measure, the owner of the establishment, also.

Murrell reached over and playfully pinched Caroline's cheek.  "I ain't ever going to forget how helpful you've been to me, Miss Montana Nightingale.  Nosiree." 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From their observation spot in the backroom, Fortner and Priest plotted.

"Why the Hell did they let him out of the penitentiary?  That's what I'm wondering," Priest asked as he slowly shook his head.  "He's the biggest scoundrel west of the Mississippi. Make that EAST of the Mississippi, too.  We gotta find a way to get rid of him."

"Yeah," Fortner agreed.  "But whatever we do, it's gotta look right to Ralph."  Then he added.  "I'm not afraid of him, Judge Priest.  He may be big doin's in Natchez or there abouts, but here he's no different than any gunslinger who thinks he's as tough as a nickle steak."

"He IS as tough as a nickle steak," Priest quickly said before reaching into an inner coat pocket and extracting a derringer.  He checked that it was properly loaded before returning it to his pocket.

A sinister smile crossed Murrell's lips prior to sipping his drink.

"Is that a fact?" he murmured. "Is that a fact?"

"I wouldn't lie about such a thing," Caroline assured the man.

Murrell reached over and playfully pinched Caroline's cheek. "I ain't ever going to forget how helpful you've been to me, Miss Montana Nightingale. Nosiree."

Caroline wasn't so sure about that little physical gesture, she had a real aversion to having any man lay their hands on her without her approval or permission. On occasion a customer would swat her butt as she did her rounds on the saloon floor which usually just drew a quick glare or she imply ignored it. The last time a drunken cowpoke tried for a kiss though, she had slapped him a good one. However she had accompanied it with a smile and soft words, "Now now, hon, I decide who I kiss. Behave yerself."

"I always try to please the customers, it's my job ya know. I take it seriously," she decided to let it go and simply reply. Oh....and I do prefer ta be called either Miss Mundee or plain Caroline."

"I always try to please the customers, it's my job ya know. I take it seriously," she decided to let it go and simply reply. Oh....and I do prefer ta be called either Miss Mundee or plain Caroline."

"Well then, Miss Mundee, I guess you sort of put me in my place. Didn't you?" answered the stranger.  "And that's fine. I like a lady who can stand up for herself."  He sipped some more of his drink.  "Is your boss gonna be happy that you contradicted him about ol' Judge Priest?  Or maybe, his memory is a bit hazy what with all the drovers who come in here day-after-day?

"He seems like a nice enough fella," Murrell continued waxing on about Fortner.  "He been the owner here for very long? 

"Long enough." It was Franklin Fortner himself, who'd arrived back at the bar in time to hear the last question.  "Why?  You thinking of buying me out?  Or maybe you're interested in opening your own place and maybe pouching Miss Mundee out from under me?"

Murrell turned to Caroline.  "Sound like something you'd be interested in?"

"Oh hon, I'm not putting you in yer place. I just think being called the Montana Nightingale sounds a bit..........I don't know...like she's full of herself or somethin'. Round here no one calls me that....just Caroline or Miss Mundee. So didn't mean no offense," Caroline pointed out with a smile.

"Is your boss gonna be happy that you contradicted him about ol' Judge Priest? Or maybe, his memory is a bit hazy what with all the drovers who come in here day-after-day?"

"He's not always happy with me, I ain't always happy with him. All evens out I guess," she shrugged.

"He seems like a nice enough fella," Murrell continued waxing on about Fortner. "He been the owner here for very long?"

Caroline didn't need to answer that one, for Fortner was back.

"Long enough." It was Franklin Fortner himself, who'd arrived back at the bar in time to hear the last question. "Why? You thinking of buying me out? Or maybe you're interested in opening your own place and maybe pouching Miss Mundee out from under me?"

Murrell turned to Caroline. "Sound like something you'd be interested in?"

This man could afford to buy himself a saloon all of a sudden? She didn't believe it for a minute.

"I like it here at the Stardust. I liked it with the original owner, Miss Devereaux but she up and left us.Now I work for Mr. Fortner and I do my job damn well I believe. And he pays me a fair wage," she started then paused before adding, "All this palaver about buying saloons and such is way above little ol' me. Sounds like that should be between you two fellas."

"You sound like you got money to spend," Fortner said genially enough. "But sorry, the Stardust isn't for sale, but I do have, let's call it an investment opportunity. We got a choice claim near the Flathead. Gold. We've got some mining engineers crawling all over the place right now. It's produced some good samples that we've had assayed. We're looking for investors in order to get the operation off the ground."

Caroline figured Fortner wouldn't sell, she didn't blame him really. How did any of them even know if this stranger was in possession of the kind of money it took to snap up a successful business for the Stardust was doing quite well.

Fortner turned to Ralph.

"Set 'em up," he ordered.

"Alright," Ralph complied but did not pour another one for Caroline, he knew why. She did not want to get drunk imbibing too much of this expensive strong stuff.

While he waited, Fortner continued. "The land used to belong to a sodbuster who lost it in a card game. He combined two things that ought not ever be combined: Liquor and Cards. Anyway, the fool put up his homestead and it landed right in my lap. It's funny how things happen." And to Caroline he added, "Ain't that so?"

"I wouldn't call it funny. He weren't laughing none," Caroline had a scowl on that normally bright face. Her mood was sour now. She pulled away from the bar.

"I need to go answer the call of nature, gents," she suddenly announced and headed out the back, the outhouse was in the back of the business.

"Whaddya say, Mister? Ready to gamble on a sure thing?" pressed Fortner.

Caroline didn't care to stick around for the rest of this conversation. What those men did was up to them.

Caroline, in her high tradition, turned icy when speaking of the day when she helped Fortner and Priest fleece old Potee in a game of cards.  Fortner, though, was used to it.  He even made a little inside joke about it.  "Caroline serves the best coffee in Kalispell," he would say to anyone who'd listen.

While Fortner tried to lure Murrell into an "investment", a desultory Hiram Priest sat hunched over the kitchen table, his bony hands clutching a coffee cup.  The cook was at a nearby counter, pounding on a wad of bread dough.  He lifted his head when Caroline came sailing in through the door.

"Howdy there, young, Miss Caroline.  Looks like someone lit a fire under your bustle."  That was about as witty as he could manage considering the vile man drinking at the bar, a man he never thought he'd ever see again.

Caroline burst into the back kitchen in a sour mood, it was quite apparent in both her grim face and body language.

A desultory Hiram Priest sat hunched over the kitchen table, his bony hands clutching a coffee cup. The cook was at a nearby counter, pounding on a wad of bread dough. He lifted his head when Caroline came sailing in through the door.

"Howdy there, young, Miss Caroline. Looks like someone lit a fire under your bustle."

She paused to give him a fiery glare, "None of yer goddamn business. You ain't my boss, Fortner is. So you can go fuck off!"

"Howdy there, young, Miss Caroline. Looks like someone lit a fire under your bustle."

She paused to give him a fiery glare, "None of yer goddamn business. You ain't my boss, Fortner is. So you can go fuck off!"

"Whoa!" cried the wily old Judge.  "I guess that feller at the bar got under your skin .. or maybe the aforementioned Fortner."  He paused and crossed his arms in front of his chest.  "If'n I were you, I'd stay far away from that new stranger in town, Miss Mundee.  He's got a long list of crimes under his belt, as long as a whore's dream. As your friend, and I really am your friend, Missy, I'd stay as far away from him as possible."

He cleared a space at the kitchen table.  One directly across from him.

"Why don't you set right down and take a nice long break.  I'll fix it with your boss."