Franklin lit a cheroot and smiled. That girl could sure sing a song. Of course he liked it better when the song was more lively. Maybe he should have suggested she sing "Little Red Wing".
He meandered back to the bar and asked Ralph for another drink, smacking a silver dollar on the counter.
"I'd like to make her the Kalispell Queen," he said to his barkeep. "I'd have her face and name plastered all over the territory. She deserves a good following."
There was a tension in the air that night. Maybe it was the mix of groups occupying space the saloon. Whatever it was, he decided he'd head upstairs to his office and slip his gun under his coat.
"Everything seem all right to you?" he asked Ralph.
The boss leaned against the bar and placed a silver dollar coin on the bartop? The man owned the joint, why was he paying for drinks that belonged to him? Ralph didn't question it though. He instead poured the man another shot as requested.
"I'd like to make her the Kalispell Queen," he said to his barkeep. "I'd have her face and name plastered all over the territory. She deserves a good following."
"She probably does but I know she likes it right here. If becomin' this queen means she has to travel a lot or pick up stakes.......I don't believe she will look favorably on that idea. But that's just my take on it, you'd have to ask her yerself," Ralph answered while drying another rinsed shotglass with a towel.
"Everything seem all right to you?" he then asked Ralph.
That answer came with a shrug, "Well, we got us both some Evergreen hands and some Lost Lake hands here under the same roof. Those two groups don't much like each other. So ........who knows? Things could boil over, all we can do for now is wait n' see. No cause to kick any of 'em out yet."
Ezra Klienfeld did not like the position he found himself in, what with a hair’s breadth away from stumbling into one of the cowhands that had entered just ahead of him. Then, with the grace of a ballerina, he sidestepped to his right, so he cleared the man, instantly dodged another who was crossing his path with a full mug of beer, almost running into the piano, rebounding toward a group of men, most of which he didn’t recognize as men that might front him a beer, that was when disaster in the form of feet being tied up struck.
Ezra fought valiantly to regain control of himself but that was just not to be! He lost his balance and rammed into the man crossing his path with the full mug of beer, which was pushed into his chest, sending its contents splashing in a wide liquid fan, dousing him, and several others, as he stumbled into Bo Harker, forcing Harker into Davis, who was about to straddle a chair, knocking him into one of the Lost Lake riders who shoved Davis back into Harker, who, in turn, crashed headlong into the beer-soaked man that recoiled and spun into Ezra, who was just regaining his unsteady legs, and in a full embrace tumbled across the lap of the piano player forcing Chubby and his stool to tip sideways into a pair of Lost Lake riders, who crashed unceremoniously into a card game, the table collapsing with cards, chips, and cash exploding into the mele as the piano player, Chubby Cox, fought to get free of the bodies on top of him.
Storyteller / Shared NPC
As the collisions unfolded, The Lost Lake riders reacted as men would...in anger. Chairs were kicked back as men shot to their feet and the ones tangled in the collision fought to get to their feet as well. Tully and Markham, sitting a short distance away out of the collision zone, both looked up at the sudden noise. "Oh, Hell..." Tully said as his hope for a peaceful night and incident free scheme began to collapse. He waved a hand at Markham as he stood and moved toward the various people.
Markham shifted over and moved to help pick up the first person he came to who was still on the ground. He bent and his hands slid under the arms of a man who was trying to stand. "Easy there...no need to get upset..."
Tully moved to stand near the ruins of the card game, looking at the players as they began clambering to their feet in various states of anger and relief at the interruption to the game. He looked at the two Lost Lake riders. "Game's over. Everybody split the pot..."
"Everything seem all right to you?" he then asked Ralph.
That answer came with a shrug, "Well, we got us both some Evergreen hands and some Lost Lake hands here under the same roof. Those two groups don't much like each other. So ........who knows? Things could boil over, all we can do for now is wait n' see. No cause to kick any of 'em out yet."
It was a prophetic speech because not soon after, there was a small commotion on the floor. It looked to Fortner as if someone accidentally bumped into another. There was a spilled beer, a minor thing to Fortner's mind. Of course you never knew. Some men have a chip on their shoulder, just waiting for the slightest provocation in order to get enraged.
"For chrissakes," he muttered to Ralph. "Just what we don't need." He remained leaning against the bar, but his eyes were watching the events unfold.
Saloon brawls as a rule have a nasty habit of getting out of control quickly, and it is hard on both the men involved, as well as the furniture, one of the men involved picked up a chair and smashed it against Markham's back shattering the wooden piece into pieces, believing he had been the man that had tripped him, when in fact that honor went to Ezra Klienfrld who had pause to consume an unguarded beer.
Benson dove at a body, not concerned with who it belonged to while Bo Harker was hit in the nose by someone he could not identify, which knocked him back, blood flying from his nose, into several men just trying to avoid the battle in progress.
At his point Jansen escorted Sally Cutts out of the line of fire, "Stay here," He said and stole a kiss just before leaping into the fray!
There was a collision, Ralph saw and believed it an accident but it cascaded into involving a bunch of unfortunates including upsetting a card game.
"For chrissakes," Fortner muttered to Ralph. "Just what we don't need." He remained leaning against the bar, but his eyes were watching the events unfold.
And sure enough, within a wild brawl erupted.
"Geezus," for now Ralph remained behind the bar. He was used to handling one out of control customer but it was almost impossible to establish order amongst a whole passel of men fighting away. However he did move one hand under the bar and came up with a double barreled shotgun just in case somebody decided to escalate and pull their guns. But his eyes went to locate Caroline. Their new employee, Sally, was already being escorted away by some gentleman cowpoke.
Caroline had been standing next to the now overturned card table, cards and worse yet, money scattered all over the floor now wet too with spilled drinks. She rolled her eyes, having witnessed more than her share of such brawls in her saloon career. Let 'em fight, her main concern was no one better lay their hands on her or even worse rip her dress!
"Now, now, boys, behave yerselves!" she cried out, knowing full well it was a waste of breath, no one was going to listen.
Storyteller / Shared NPC
Tully heard the splintering of the chair and saw Markham stagger and fall into the floor. The big man lunged and grabbed his friend's assailant by the shirt collar, dragging him toward him to meet his oncoming fist as he swung a big right hand into the man's jaw. There was a satisfying meaty smack as he connected with the man's jaw and he saw the dazed look on his face. Tully let go of the collar and the man collapsed like a sack of potatoes.
Lost Lake men were now all engaged in fights by ones and twos around the saloon floor. As usual, some were doing alright and some were most definitely not. Suddenly, Tully felt a weight land on his back as someone tried to tackle him from behind. Tully staggered a few steps but did not go down. He regained his balance and reached behind him, grabbing at the man on his back. The man's hat went flying, then he found a handful or hair and yanked...drawing Jansen around in front of him. Jansen did not give up, to his credit, throwing a punch into Tully's face that made his head turn, causing him to shake it once before his featured darkened and Jansen felt hands on his belt and shirt collar. Tully took a few steps and his arms swung...sending the hapless Evergreen hand flying through the Stardust's front window in a shower of glass and wood framing to land on the wooden sidewalk outside...
The situation was precarious at best as Ezra began to make his way toward the door, which meant navigating his unsteady way past numerous fist fights, broken furniture and shatter glass. But the veteran of many a bar fight and resulting obstacles, he believed he was up to the task, and so he set foot on the perilous journey to the door.
A chair flung haphazardly at someone was seen and quickly dodge by the fleet footed Mister Klinefeld who managed to duck the four legged missile without crumbling to the floor, allowing it to continue its journey toward the bar, the bar back, bottles, glasses, the mirror, and Ralph Flandry!
Seeing Jansen fly through the window, Bo Harker tossed some ranch hand aside, then attacked the mountain that was Tully! He came fast, gabbing the man in a bear hug which sent them off balance and tumbling through the bat wing doors, ripping one from it’s hinges as the pair rolled outside onto the boardwalk, a few feet from an unconscious Jansen.
Ezra paused as the two big men tumbled past him, which gave him cause to pause and frown while shaking his head, then redirecting his escape route to the missing window.
It was more than Fortner anticipated. He'd witnessed a lot of saloon brawls, and this one was moving quickly to the top of the list.
What snapped for him was when his furniture began to splinter. He reached his right hand into his voluminous inside pocket and removed his new, Smith & Wesson Model 3. It meant business and it was fully loaded. He raised his arm and fired the weapon toward the ceiling, aiming where a ceiling joist met the wall. That way, his bullet wouldn't bore through the second story floor and into an employee or customer.
The explosion was impressive and slowed the action enough for Fortner to address the mob.
"Enough! I don't give a good God Damn if you wring each other's neck, but take it outside. What the Hell's the matter with you fellas? This is a warning so take it as such. My aim might not be so good with the next shot."
He squared himself, feet solidly planted, shoulders back... a look of absolute balance, the gun, a symbol of masculine, phallic danger, smoking in his hand.