Cabot Flagg doubted he ever would get used to the cold in this here Montana, it was far worse than Kansas, his home state. But for now he had decided to stay in the Kalispell area as he had no grand prospects anywhere else. As he rode onto the Lost Lake property, he was certainly impressed by the look of the owner's ranch house. Never saw anything like it to be honest. How the hell much did that cost? But he was not there for looking over real estate, nope, he was seeking a job.
His long time friend, Caroline Mundee, had convinced him that he if he was looking for someplace that paid a fair wage and treated a man proper, it would be Lost Lake. And she would know, she'd been here locally for a few years prior to his rather recent arrival. He trusted her as old friends tended to do. Well, he'd about spent the last of his reward money and it was either this sort of job or go back to bounty hunting. He was getting tired of the constant roaming about and was beginning at long last to just maybe set down roots. Or if not, least make some money. He could only sit around so long.
So, here he was, shivering a bit at the cold but ready to see if he could secure himself a job.
Quentin was in the study working on some papers when there was a commotion at the front of the house. He stood and walked out to see several of the family talking about the rider in front of the house. Most of the hands were doing the sensible thing and staying in the barn and bunkhouse and taking care of minor tasks. Quentin glanced out the window and took the measure of the rider. After a moment's looking, Quentin walked over to the row of coat hooks. He took down his gun belt and buckled it around his waist. The way he wore the holsters there was no need to tie them down. He then reached and put on his coat, leaving it unbuttoned and his thumbs moved to flick off the leather loops from the hammers.
Quentin opened the front door and stepped out then donned his hat. He walked down the main steps and stopped a few yards from the rider.
"Good Afternoon...Can I help you?"
Cabot did not have long to wait, he was considering if he should dismount and go knock on the front door but turned out that very door opened and out came a man, wearing a two gun holster. Like he was expecting trouble. Now Flagg was wearing his own revolver but under the heavy winter coat he had on, he also had a Winchester sheathed on the side of his saddle. He would attempt to reach for neither.
Quentin opened the front door and stepped out then donned his hat. He walked down the main steps and stopped a few yards from the rider.
"Good Afternoon...Can I help you?"
"Too cold for it to be 'good', but yes, afternoon to you, sir," Cabot grinned.
"See you're wearing, not necessary, I did not come lookin' for any trouble. I came here lookin' for a possible job. Though if I had any real sense I'd be riding far south of Montana to look for that job given this Montana weather," again he ended with a smile.
"Too cold for it to be 'good', but yes, afternoon to you, sir," Cabot grinned.
"See you're wearing, not necessary, I did not come lookin' for any trouble. I came here lookin' for a possible job. Though if I had any real sense I'd be riding far south of Montana to look for that job given this Montana weather," again he ended with a smile.
Quentin looked the man over as he was talking. He couldn't see a pistol, but under that coat it may as well be in South Carolina. The rifle was in its scabbard but Quentin knew that man could never clear it from leather before he had at least two bullets in him.
"Unusual time of year to be job hunting at a ranch...what brings you all the way out here?"
Apparently this jasper did not have much of a sense of humor. Or maybe Cabot's cheery approach was not the right one to take. Oh well.
"Unusual time of year to be job hunting at a ranch...what brings you all the way out here?" the man wanted to know.
Fair 'nuff question though. One Turk would gladly answer.
"Ahh, point taken, mister. But it's not the sort of job you might be thinkin'. I ain't no cowpuncher, I don't know squat about cows 'cept I like eatin' a good beefsteak whenever I can afford it," he smiled showing bad teeth.
"You see I know Caroline Mundee....from town. That spunky saloon gal at the Star Dust? Me n' her are old friends. And she was the one who suggested I come on out here and talk ta the ranch owner. My line of work is.......... well, as of late I've been a bounty hunter but I've also done some other work involving gunplay if necessary. You know...hired guns."
"I've been in town long enough to know this ranch and the Evergreen one have got a real dislike for each other. Whole town knows it and the talk is one of these days it's gonna explode inta an all out war. Now Caroline has told me this Steelgrave jasper has hired himself a whole bunch a gunmen on his payroll for just such a thing. She thinks maybe the Lost Lake is in the market to hire itself some of the same."
He paused then, surely the man knew by now exactly why he was here and what his occupation was too. Now it just remained to see if Caroline had been on the money or mistaken.
Quentin listened to the stranger and nodded inwardly. It made sense for the people in town to be aware of the problems that had been brewing between Lost Lake and Evergreen. It also made sense that anyone looking for that sort of work would be choosing a side based on what they believed in.
"You ever been shot at? You ever kill anybody who was shooting at you?" Quentin knew it was a reasonable question. He had seen all kinds during his time out here. Men who had reputations for killing that was based on shooting drunks and farmers and not people who had been armed and firing back. If he was going to bring people onto the ranch to defend it, he had to know they would do their part and not run and hide when the bullets started flying.
Well, this fellow certainly did not beat around the bush. Granted the whole topic was a fairly grim one.
"Well, if I was to truly think about it, I have been shot at too many times," Turk grinned, serious subject or not, he was usually irrepressible in his good natured way.
"Yes, I lived in Kansas before the war. My being shot at and shooting started early, just a lad really. Then I fought in the war. Whole lot more shootin' that was. Few real close calls," he recalled.
"And as I just said earlier, I was..still am I suppose...a bounty hunter on occasion. You don't usually get to talk a fella in, if you know what I mean," he smiled.
"Oh and another thing. I seem to have killed me an Evergreen gunsel just after I arrived in town. Not that I knew it at the time. But I did know him real well and he knew me too when we came upon each other on the boardwalk outside of the saloon. He had killed...make that murdered by brother right on our property in front of Ma. My brother was only fourteen and unarmed. He shot him down like a dog. Broke my Ma it did, she was never the same. I didn't know about it til later as I was elsewhere. And I always figured I'd never even see this jasper again. But there he was right in front a me. I got my revenge then. Your marshal took me in, ended up there were no charges against me. Other than a fine for disturbing the peace."
For once he was no longer smiling, some things were just too grim even for happy go lucky Turk.
Quentin listened as the man spun the story of his life. It was normal enough sounding. Quentin had read and heard about the troubles in Kansas and Missouri before and during the war. Most of those groups had no real connection with the armies of either side. A lot of the fighting was settling a laundry list of long standing scores. However, there was nothing worse than that sort of fighting, so he figured the man had done his share of shooting and being shot at.
The story about the gunfight in town would be easy enough to check out. Quentin could ask Speed about it the next time he was in town.
"Climb down off that horse and come inside for some coffee. You can tie it up inside the barn...let him warm up a bit while he's resting."
"Climb down off that horse and come inside for some coffee. You can tie it up inside the barn...let him warm up a bit while he's resting."
Well now, that sure sounded powerful positive that he was about to get that job. Otherwise why would the man invite him inside. Even if it didn't work out, he appreciated a chance to get out of the cold and enjoy a warm cup of coffee.
"Why thank ya, ..........I will take ya up on that, Mister....." Turk paused.
"Afraid I didn't get your name and, come to think of it, I didn't give mine either. I'm Cabot Flagg. People that know me don't use Cabot, they know I'm not too fond of that one. Got a nickname of Turk. Take yer pick."
"My horse sez thanks too, well he would if he could talk. Be right back," he smiled then led the animal toward the barn doors.
Cantrell waited until Flagg returned and then he stuck out his hand. "Quentin Cantrell. I make it a habit not to shake a man's hand until we're eye to eye. If you prefer Turk, then that's what I will call you."
The two men walked into the Foyer and Cantrell pointed to the row of hooks for Turk's coat. Once both men had removed their coats and hats, Quentin led him back to his study. In one corner was a small stove and a coffee pot sat on top. Quentin poured both of them cups. He indicated a small bowl of sugar as he dropped a few cubes into his own cup. "Sweeten your coffee if you like..."
Quentin indicated one of the chairs facing his desk as he moved around and settled into his personal chair. "So, how much do you know about what's happening between Lost Lake and Evergreen?"