"Well now. That sort of puts me in my place. Don't it?"
"I don't see it that way, yer still the owner of this here place and the boss. But I don't sugar coat anything I have ta say. Never have," Ralph replied, "You hired a barkeep not a yes-man."
"We aren't overworking you two. Are we?" Fortner now asked.
"Nope, long as you don't decide to do that open twenty-four hours plan of yers. And we stay closed on Sundays like usual," Ralph answered without hesitation.
"I got no life but this saloon but I do gotta sleep."
"Have you ever thought of doing office work? A lot of the young women in the cities have begun doing that type of work," Priest ventured.
"Well, I reckon scrubbin' a office floor'd be pretty much the same as scrubbin' a saloon floor. Easier, I reckon, cause there's no..." something in Priest's face and the way his spectacles were misting up made her wonder if she was getting hold of the wrong end of the stick here. She frowned and thought real hard. Ahhhhhh...
"Oh, you mean figurin' - like 'accounts' an such. I don't know nuthin' about that, but I know a girl who can figure like crazy. She's just the figurinist girl in town. You could ask her, and guess what, Mister Priest, she just hates bein' stuck at home with her family all day long - she bustin' to break out." Sally informed the older man helpfully.
"Her name's Florence Patterson Forde."
"We aren't overworking you two. Are we?" Fortner now asked.
"Nope, long as you don't decide to do that open twenty-four hours plan of yers. And we stay closed on Sundays like usual," Ralph answered without hesitation.
"I got no life but this saloon but I do gotta sleep."
"Fortner decided that Ralph was a nut which was too tough for him to crack, and that was going some because Franklin Fortner was a skilled salesman.
"I think there's a Town ordinance that keeps us shut down on Sundays," he informed him. "Far be it from me to go against the City Fathers."
You know, we're looking for a Sutler to provide food and essentials to the mining camp. It could be very lucrative. Do you happen to know any people around here who would be able to mount anything like that? Maybe you, if you has some backing?
It was a shot in the dark.
Address me as Hon. Hiram Priest, esq.
"Well, I reckon scrubbin' a office floor'd be pretty much the same as scrubbin' a saloon floor. Easier, I reckon, cause there's no..." something in Priest's face and the way his spectacles were misting up made her wonder if she was getting hold of the wrong end of the stick here. She frowned and thought real hard. Ahhhhhh...
In fact, it was true that Priest's eyes were glassing over, just like they used to when, at a City Council meeting, they would all but cross when hostage to a long winded, self important councilman would run out the hour glass.
"Oh, you mean figurin' - like 'accounts' an such. I don't know nuthin' about that, but I know a girl who can figure like crazy. She's just the figurinist girl in town. You could ask her, and guess what, Mister Priest, she just hates bein' stuck at home with her family all day long - she bustin' to break out." Sally informed the older man helpfully.
"Her name's Florence Patterson Forde."
"Well now," Priest brightened. "Forde, you say? Never heard of her. She isn't a flighty girl, is she, Sally? We'd need someone who we can rely on."
The old man pulled a pencil out of his inner coat pocket, then searched around.
"You got a piece of paper somewhere so's I can write her name down?"
"Well now," Priest brightened. "Forde, you say?"
"Oooh, er, Patterson Forde" corrected Sally "It's one of them shotgun names... double barrelled."
"Never heard of her. She isn't a flighty girl, is she, Sally? We'd need someone who we can rely on."
The girl shook her head vigorously "Oh, no Sir! Why Florence is just the opposite of flighty!" She struggled to think what that word would be "More kinda stuck-on-the-groundy. She's just the level-headedist girl in town, after her sister. But her sister's happy at home."
The old man pulled a pencil out of his inner coat pocket, then searched around.
"You got a piece of paper somewhere so's I can write her name down?"
Sally had a small note tablet she kept in her apron pocket for the rare occasion when a drinks order was too big to keep all in her head. She handed it to him, suddenly remembering that the back of it had the words Cade and Mrs C. Brodie scribbled all over it. She hoped Mister Priest didn't notice.
"I think there's a Town ordinance that keeps us shut down on Sundays," Fortner informed him. "Far be it from me to go against the City Fathers."
"Yep, somethin' out of the Bible I think. Keep holy the Lord's day or somethin' so nobody works," Ralph was definitely neither a bible reader nor a religious man.
"You know, we're looking for a Sutler to provide food and essentials to the mining camp. It could be very lucrative. Do you happen to know any people around here who would be able to mount anything like that? Maybe you, if you has some backing?
Ralph smirked, "Me? I don't know about anything like that. Hell, I don't even buy the booze and beer we get. Assume yer the one who orders it all, I just know we get shipments is all."
"There is a newcomer in town though who is plumping to set up a business of sorts, probably not too particular what it is either long as it makes him a living. Name's Bower or Baur, he's been in the place recently. I will point him out to ya next time I see him and yer around," Ralph offered.
Address me as Hon. Hiram Priest, esq.
The girl shook her head vigorously "Oh, no Sir! Why Florence is just the opposite of flighty!" She struggled to think what that word would be "More kinda stuck-on-the-groundy. She's just the level-headedist girl in town, after her sister. But her sister's happy at home."
"Well now," the old codger opined. "She sounds like the type of young lady we could use."
The old man pulled a pencil out of his inner coat pocket, then searched around.
"You got a piece of paper somewhere so's I can write her name down?"
Sally had a small note tablet she kept in her apron pocket for the rare occasion when a drinks order was too big to keep all in her head. She handed it to him, suddenly remembering that the back of it had the words Cade and Mrs C. Brodie scribbled all over it. She hoped Mister Priest didn't notice.
The old Mayor's withered hands and bony fingers took the paper and pencil and scratched the name out. "Flo Patterson-Forde" He recited aloud. "Hmm. It's got a nice sound to it."
He then picked up the paper, held it to the light and admired his cursive scrawl. "Penmanship's a lost art, Miss Cutts." Then his eyes saw the Cade and Mrs C. Brodie written on the other side. "What's this?" he asked her in a manner of one accustomed to court rooms.
"You know, we're looking for a Sutler to provide food and essentials to the mining camp. It could be very lucrative. Do you happen to know any people around here who would be able to mount anything like that? Maybe you, if you has some backing?
Ralph smirked, "Me? I don't know about anything like that. Hell, I don't even buy the booze and beer we get. Assume yer the one who orders it all, I just now we get shipments is all."
Fortner nodded, taking in the words of this taciturn man. Ralph certainly wasn't a bullshitter.
"There is a newcomer in town though who is plumping to set up a business of sorts, probably not too particular what it is either long as it makes him a living. Name's Bower or Baur, he's been in the place recently. I will point him out to ya next time I see him and yer around," Ralph offered.
"Thanks, Ralph. Yes, please point him out when he's here. As you can see, we're anxious to get things rolling at the digs."
"Say," Would you like to set on up for yourself," he waved his hand at a half-empty liquor bottle.
He then picked up the paper, held it to the light and admired his cursive scrawl. "Penmanship's a lost art, Miss Cutts."
Sally admired it, too. Her clumsy basic writing was somewhat painful to look at, and she sometimes got Ps and bs back to front, so her writing looked like a bunch of gobbldygook.
Then his eyes saw the Cade and Mrs C. Brodie written on the other side. "What's this?" he asked her in a manner of one accustomed to court rooms.
The girl's face went bright red. Maybe she should lie and say someone else had written it, but her scrawl was unmistakable.
"I... I was just being silly about a boy. I... I kinda liked him, but he didn't like me... I even sat on his friend's knee and kissed him to make him jealous, but that didn't work." she admitted. "Please don't tell anyone, Mr Priest, it's bad enough everyone calls me stupid and clumsy, I don't want them knowing I'm a failure at romance, too."
Address me as Hon. Hiram Priest, esq.
Then his eyes saw the Cade and Mrs C. Brodie written on the other side. "What's this?" he asked her in a manner of one accustomed to court rooms.
The girl's face went bright red. Maybe she should lie and say someone else had written it, but her scrawl was unmistakable.
"I... I was just being silly about a boy. I... I kinda liked him, but he didn't like me... I even sat on his friend's knee and kissed him to make him jealous, but that didn't work." she admitted. "Please don't tell anyone, Mr Priest, it's bad enough everyone calls me stupid and clumsy, I don't want them knowing I'm a failure at romance, too.
The wily ex-Mayor/ex-Judge was not without a heart. The fact was, Hiram Priest had a son and a daughter. Their mother died of Typhoid years earlier. The son was in an exporter of cast iron products, such as stoves, and made a great living from it. They exchanged letters from time-to-time, and were on good terms. His daughter was an editor and columnist for the New York World. She inherited her father's flair for cutting through the fog of events and exposing the elements of truth. Some called her a muckraker, but she couldn't have cared less.
The years had cleaved the family and left Hiram with no one to advise except business partners like Franklin Fortner. So, it was nice to be able to engaged with young Miss Cutts. Maybe he could help her?
Hiram smiled at Sally, and tugged ruefully at his chin.
''Your secrets are as safe with me as under the Seal of the Confessional," he assured her. "And don't be too hard on yourself. All young people have done things that they look back on with regret. So just remember, you are no worse and probably a lot better than anyone else your age, and probably a lot smarter than you realize."
"Was it a local boy you had your cap set for?" He asked her.