Address me as Hon. Hiram Priest, esq.
"Hold on there, Miss Patterson-Forde. Don't get your back up. Maybe we can come to terms after all."
He waited for her to sit back down before continuing.
She turned, feeling actually slightly bad, almost frightened in fact, that her hardball tactics had succeeded. She felt it was time for her to put more on the table herself.
She seated herself primly.
"I am glad that you are willing to consider the matter further, Mr Priest. Of course, if you do not like my work, you are completely at liberty to dispense with my services at any time, no questions asked. And think, as well as your saloon enterprise, there will be the books for your new mining concern to be thought of; it is my understanding from Miss Cutts that the two ventures are quite intimately intertwined, one set of eyes on both can only be beneficial to you and Mr Fortner in your oversight of pecuniary matters" she cooed, trying (unsuccessfully) to sound a bit less stiff and formal than usual, as knew that she usually came across as a little frosty. On more than one occasion her mother had admonished her: go thaw your drawers, Florence!
"Cards on the table," young Miss. "We will meet your $25 per week. So, expectations are quite high. You understand, of course, that the information you will be accounting for is very ..." he search for the right word, .."very proprietary and confidential, and must be treated as such."
Priest folded is hands on the table in front of him.
"I couldn't help notice the ledgers you showed me and, aside from your scrupulous entries, I am wondering if you are familiar with the operations and the backlog. What I mean is would they be able to support a mining operations north of town?"
"Wouldn't know about no Chicago commodities," Ralph remarked dourly.
That was the kind of answer that Franklin was used to hearing from Ralph.
Franklin held out his hand. "Shake on the deal?"
"Yeah, those it still depends on whether Caroline agrees, remember that," Ralph extended his own hand then and gave it a hard pump or two.
"Wonderful!" Franklin managed to say through teeth clamping a cheroot.
"I'll talk ta her today and get back to you on her answer or maybe she'll give you her answer herself," he added.
"Thank you, Ralph. Golden days are ahead. Golden days.
Oh dear, we're all of a flutter!
"Cards on the table, young Miss. We will meet your $25 per week."
Florence gulped, but otherwise managed to hide any other manifestation of her surprise and delight.
"So, expectations are quite high. You understand, of course, that the information you will be accounting for is very ..." he search for the right word, .."very proprietary and confidential, and must be treated as such."
"Mr Priest!" she gasped, shocked "I should not consider divulging any information pertaining to your business even to my own mother!" It was just a turn of phrase, but the events of the next few days would prove the veracity of her statement.
"I couldn't help notice the ledgers you showed me and, aside from your scrupulous entries, I am wondering if you are familiar with the operations and the backlog. What I mean is would they be able to support a mining operations north of town?"
She wasn't sure exactly what he meant, but damned if she was going to say that out loud two seconds after being hired. Instead, she asked him a question.
"Mr Priest, I couldn't possibly answer that question until I have been presented with the relevant figures." she answered primly and with a slightly affronted look, as if he had just asked her to do something unbecoming.
"Perhaps I could start straight away? Do you have a suitable private office where I may commence work? It would hardly do to have your private business papers spread out upon the kitchen table..." she spread her hands to the large eating place they were seated at in Mrs McMahon's kitchen.
Wayfarer if you want
Address me as Hon. Hiram Priest, esq.
"Perhaps I could start straight away? Do you have a suitable private office where I may commence work? It would hardly do to have your private business papers spread out upon the kitchen table..." she spread her hands to the large eating place they were seated at in Mrs McMahon's kitchen.
Hiram perfected a closed-mouth smile.
"Just a moment, young miss, and I will be right back."
For an old timer, Priest was rather spry. He got to his feet easily and stepped across the room to the door. "Right back," he repeated.
The floor was more crowded since he and the bookkeeper left, but it didn't take long to see Franklin Fortner lounging at the bar near Ralph. "Got some news," he grumbled at Franklin.
They huddled for about five minutes as Hiram updated Franklin on the new hire, the wage, the need for office accommodations for Miss Patterson-Forde, and best of all, a possible contractor who would be able to supply provisions to the mining site.
Franklin was satisfied, though he thought the wage a bit high. He also agreed to turn the small storage room next to his office into an accounting office.
Soon Hiram was back in the Kitchen.
"Just got back talking to the Leader Man, and he agreed to all that we talked about; the wage and the place for you to set up your accounting office."
He motioned her back to the table.
"What I would like to discuss is the business your ledgers over here represent," he waved at the books. "Are they in the business of supplying services and goods to remote areas?"
Oh dear, we're all of a flutter!
"Just got back talking to the Leader Man, and he agreed to all that we talked about; the wage and the place for you to set up your accounting office."
Good Lord, the young woman almost cracked a smile. Almost.
"Thank you, Mister Priest, that is excellent news" she generously allowed.
He motioned her back to the table. She sat.
"What I would like to discuss is the business your ledgers over here represent," he waved at the books. "Are they in the business of supplying services and goods to remote areas?"
"They were" replied Florence, emphatically in the past tense. "My family ran a sort of sutler's store for the miners in Panamint City. By the end it ran from essential everyday commodities: clothing, warm food - nothing too fancy, you understand, just a good square meal, beer, but not whisky or anything too strong, the mine owners didn't thank us for getting their workers uproariously drunk, or too hung over to work. Then there were fancier items, but popular with the miners: envelopes and postage stamps to write home, and so forth. My father is a tailor and my uncle Pat is a cobbler, my mother and sister handled the cooking and we had a woman who did the laundry side of things. Mr Baur, my mother's, erm, friend used to organise supplies to be sent to us from civilisation." she indicated the ledger "It is all in there. We were doing well until the whole town was washed out in a freak flood"
God, she remembered that night, she'd never been so terrified in all her life.
"If it is not too impertinent a question, Mr Priest, why do you ask?"
Address me as Hon. Hiram Priest, esq.
"What I would like to discuss is the business your ledgers over here represent," he waved at the books. "Are they in the business of supplying services and goods to remote areas?"
"They were" replied Florence, emphatically in the past tense. "My family ran a sort of sutler's store for the miners in Panamint City. By the end it ran from essential everyday commodities: clothing, warm food - nothing too fancy, you understand, just a good square meal, beer, but not whisky or anything too strong, the mine owners didn't thank us for getting their workers uproariously drunk, or too hung over to work. Then there were fancier items, but popular with the miners: envelopes and postage stamps to write home, and so forth. My father is a tailor and my uncle Pat is a cobbler, my mother and sister handled the cooking and we had a woman who did the laundry side of things. Mr Baur, my mother's, erm, friend used to organise supplies to be sent to us from civilisation." she indicated the ledger "It is all in there. We were doing well until the whole town was washed out in a freak flood"
God, she remembered that night, she'd never been so terrified in all her life.
"If it is not too impertinent a question, Mr Priest, why do you ask?"
"Impertinent?" he asked. "Not in the least. It's strictly business," he declared, pointing to the ledgers.
He cleared his throat.
"It hasn't gotten the kind of attention we would have expected from the locals, but we've got the makings of a significant, I repeat, significant gold strike. We've had mining engineers and assayers whisper that it has the potential of being another Comstock Lode."
Priest waited for her to take all that in.
"It's out on an old homestead used to belong to a man who lost it all to Franklin Fortner in a poker game. Of course, at the time, we had no idea of the property's potential. But now we're on the cusp of working shifts at the digs north of Kalispell. It's not too far away, but north of us. We've got our initial crew bosses, the equipment and hardware, even a security team. We're bring on some miners from around these parts, but the only thing we're lacking is support, the same type of support, it sounds like, this business used to do." He waved at the books, again.
He finally got the the root of things.
"Could be that we're be prepared to stand your business on its feet, you know, like start-up costs and expansion."
Oh dear, we're all of a flutter!
"It hasn't gotten the kind of attention we would have expected from the locals, but we've got the makings of a significant, I repeat, significant gold strike. We've had mining engineers and assayers whisper that it has the potential of being another Comstock Lode."
Miss Patterson Forde, as was her wont, kept her features immobile, but, despite spending a couple of years of her life in Panamint City, where silver and copper seemed to veritably flow from the ground, the word ‘GOLD’ got her immediate attention.
“Oh, where is this strike? I’ve heard that Mister Guyer and Mister Pike own considerable mines, but not Mister Fortner” she asked, almost casually, like she was just politely making conversation.
"It's out on an old homestead used to belong to a man who lost it all to Franklin Fortner in a poker game. Of course, at the time, we had no idea of the property's potential. But now we're on the cusp of working shifts at the digs north of Kalispell.
Oh yes, everyone in town knew that story. But they never said ‘Fortner and Priest cheated the land from Potee so he hanged himself. The story always started ‘Fortner and that Mundee woman cheated the man…’ The inclusion of the glamourous blonde gave the story more spice and was, to be fair, based on reality.
It's not too far away, but north of us. We've got our initial crew bosses, the equipment and hardware, even a security team. We're bring on some miners from around these parts, but the only thing we're lacking is support, the same type of support, it sounds like, this business used to do." He waved at the books, again.
Florence listened carefully. Gold, eh? Soft, heavy, greasy GOLD. And plenty of it, flowing out of the ground and into the greedy palms of Fortner and Priest… and to whoever was near to them. Priest’s alure suddenly grew from a mere potential employer to… well, maybe something else. She no longer saw a thin, worn, elderly man looking, perhaps, a little ridiculous in his stovepipe hat. No, she saw an enormous pile of Gold.
"Could be that we're be prepared to stand your business on its feet, you know, like start-up costs and expansion."
She thought a second. Just a second to make a decision that would be a paradigm shift in her whole outlook on life.
“No” she said quite firmly “I know they are my family, but I must advise you, in confidence, Mr Priest, that that would not be the wisest course of action for yourself and Mr Fortner… it would be better to sell my mother and a backer the concession rights to supply those services as an independent contractor, thus incurring any risk in the venture on themselves. The backer would take the risk of the mine playing out sooner than expected and you being left with stock and equipment on your hands. My mother could run such a concern with her hands tied behind her back and Mr Baur would supply the start-up finance.”
She almost jumped at what she had just said, and she knew that Priest would realise that she had just slightly betrayed her own family in Priest’s interest, she felt some words of explanation, or maybe self justification, were in order:
“I am your employee now, Mister Priest, my loyalty is to you.”
Address me as Hon. Hiram Priest, esq.
"Could be that we're be prepared to stand your business on its feet, you know, like start-up costs and expansion."
She thought a second. Just a second to make a decision that would be a paradigm shift in her whole outlook on life.
“No” she said quite firmly “I know they are my family, but I must advise you, in confidence, Mr Priest, that that would not be the wisest course of action for yourself and Mr Fortner… it would be better to sell my mother and a backer the concession rights to supply those services as an independent contractor, thus incurring any risk in the venture on themselves. The backer would take the risk of the mine playing out sooner than expected and you being left with stock and equipment on your hands. My mother could run such a concern with her hands tied behind her back and Mr Baur would supply the start-up finance.”
She almost jumped at what she had just said, and she knew that Priest would realise that she had just slightly betrayed her own family in Priest’s interest, she felt some words of explanation, or maybe self justification, were in order:
“I am your employee now, Mister Priest, my loyalty is to you.”
Hiram sighed, then reached up and straightened his hat. Things were working out better than he'd supposed. So, originally, he'd figured that the Patterson-Forde arrangement would be like a sub-Contract. They would sit down and work out details, terms and conditions, and all manner of clauses to protect each one's interests. But now it would be selling them exclusive rights to run their business at the mine as they saw fit (within reason). That would require a Purchase Agreement -- and both parties would have to sign it.
"I speak for Mr. Fortner when I say that your proposal is viable and worth building an agreement around."
Verses came into this educated head, and he released them in a smooth, almost whisper.
"Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!
Bright and yellow, hard and cold
Molten, graven, hammered and rolled,
Heavy to get and light to hold,
Hoarded, bartered, bought and sold,
Stolen, borrowed, squandered, doled..."
"Oh, I think we have a deal," he stated.
"Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!
Good or bad a thousand fold!
How widely it agencies vary,
To save - to ruin - to curse - to bless -"
"Old Thomas Hood wrote that." He thought she was worth informing her of that.
Oh dear, we're all of a flutter!
The old gadger Priest was intoning some poem about gold, but the fevered brain of Miss Florence Patterson Forde needed no such prompting to fuel her auric fantasies.
"Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!
Good or bad a thousand fold!
How widely it agencies vary,
To save - to ruin - to curse - to bless -"
"What an interesting poem, Mister Priest, to whom is it attributed?" she asked in her prim and proper manner, humouring the mad old twit.
"Old Thomas Hood wrote that."
"Indeed, it sums up the dangers of 'gold fever' most adequately. A warning to us all" she allowed as she stood there, perhaps a little pink in the cheeks and perhaps a slight shine of perspiration on her face.
But otherwise, she looked the picture of self control and haughty, strict, businesslike manners. Inside her head, it was a different story: she was dreaming the wildest of fantasies: a picture rose which she could not quell, of herself, in some kind of counting house or bank, skirts lifted, sitting on an enormous pile of gold coins, GOLD! No man had ever stirred her thus, but Gold, now within her reach, Gold had stirred her... her greed, her wanting... waking like an enormous powerful Leviathan from the very depths of her soul.
Address me as Hon. Hiram Priest, esq.
"Indeed, it sums up the dangers of 'gold fever' most adequately. A warning to us all" she allowed as she stood there, perhaps a little pink in the cheeks and perhaps a slight shine of perspiration on her face.
But otherwise, she looked the picture of self control and haughty, strict, businesslike manners. Inside her head, it was a different story: she was dreaming the wildest of fantasies: a picture rose which she could not quell, of herself, in some kind of counting house or bank, skirts lifted, sitting on an enormous pile of gold coins, GOLD! No man had ever stirred her thus, but Gold, now within her reach, Gold had stirred her... her greed, her wanting... waking like an enormous powerful Leviathan from the very depths of her soul.
"Here," announced Hiram. "I got something to show you." His voice was almost seductive.
He reached into an inner pocket of his frock coat and pulled something out. It was tight in his closed fist.
"Step closer and look here," he directed her, and when she got close enough he opened his hand, and in his palm was a polished piece of gold. It was about the size of an acorn and it shone beautifully in his weathered hand. "It don't get much prettier than this. Does it?"
He extended his hand toward her and said, "Want to hold it?"