It was a quiet early evening at the saloon, Cabot Flagg came thru the saloon doors and looked around. As usual he was looking to check if Caroline was around, they were friends from back in Helena. And just that. But there was no one else here he really cared about to spend some time with. He was not a steady drinker and his few games of cards usually ended up with him losing money. So if the striking blonde singer wasn't about he would simply settle for a couple beers and see if she showed up. Not much else for him to do to pass the time. Yeah, he was pretty much a loner but that didn't necessarily make him anti-social. He honestly was a friendly enough sort.
Moving up to the bar, he nodded and smiled to Ralph, they knew each other well enough thru the common denominator of Miss Mundee. In many ways, they were a lot alike. Quiet calm sorts.
"You can pour me a beer, Ralph," he requested pulling out some coins from a pocket.
"Sure, can do. How's it goin"?" Ralph nodded and reached for a tall glass mug.
"Reckon I can't complain. No one would listen anyhow. Life of a ranch hand, plenty of hard work, pretty dull otherwise," Caleb chuckled.
"You could go back to what you were doin'?" Ralph pointed out, now pouring the beer til it foamed to the top edge of the glass.
"Bounty huntin' oh I guess but I think I'm gettin' a little old for all that riding around. Besides then I couldn't have the pleasure of your company a few times a week," Caleb replied.
"Yeah, right! You mean Caroline, you don't fool me none, here ya go," he slid the beer glass toward Flagg who stopped it and placed down a thin dime.
"Yeah, you got me there, pard," Caleb then put the glass to his lips and took a long draught.
Hettie Rosenkranz was between Johns and sidled up to the rough looking man-hunter turned cow-man.
"Hello, big boy, lookin' for company?" she asked with a smile as she adjusted her always out of control chesty parts.
Sally Cutts, walking out of the kitchen area with a tray of clean, empty glasses, and a brain arguably just as empty, gazed upon the scene benignly, idly wondering if Hettie would score this time; to be fair, she had never seen Mister Flagg go with any of the working girls before (unlike that washout Cade!) - Mr Flagg even seemed impervious to the charms of the truly beautiful Tilly Burke.
"Clean glasses, Mr. Flandry" she smiled gormlessly to Ralph, stating the patently obvious.
As Turk sipped his beer, one of the local hookers moseyed up next to him at the bar.
"Hello, big boy, lookin' for company?" she asked with a smile as she adjusted her always out of control chesty parts.
He smiled as he just slowly shook his head, "Not your kind, ma'am. I am near penniless. And I still intend on a second beer too."
He knew Caroline's strong feelings on the whores drumming up business in the saloon but while he did not use their services he had nothing against them. They had to make a living too and he figured it was a pretty grim way to do it.
"Best of luck to you though," he raised his glass and took another gulp.
Meanwhile Sally Cutts emerged from the back with fresh glasses for Ralph.
"Clean glasses, Mr. Flandry" she smiled gormlessly to Ralph, stating the patently obvious.
"They look it, child," nodded Ralph as he moved them off the tray to the bottom shelf.
All women look the same in the dark - most critters, too
He smiled as he just slowly shook his head, "Not your kind, ma'am. I am near penniless. And I still intend on a second beer too."
Hettie sighed "Oh dear, the good lookin' ones never do have any money!"
"Best of luck to you though," he raised his glass and took another gulp.
"Well, next time you're in funds, Mister, come up and see me, huh?" Hettie replied, pleasantly enough, but now looking around a little for her next attempt.
Meanwhile Sally Cutts emerged from the back with fresh glasses for Ralph.
"Clean glasses, Mr. Flandry" she smiled gormlessly to Ralph, stating the patently obvious.
"They look it, child," nodded Ralph as he moved them off the tray to the bottom shelf.
Sally nodded happily, no doubt making her brain cell rattle around the inside of her skull a little. Then she spotted something, whispered "Mrs Rosenkranz!" and made a movement of her head toward the swing doors. It was Jimmy Miller, the local saddler, was walking in counting a number of dollar bills in his hands.
"Hmm, payday!" muttered Hettie and ruffled Sally's hair in thanks for the tip off. It was a bit naughty of her really and she hadn't really ought to have done it: the dollars Miller spent on whores, he wasn't spending on booze. Sally hoped Mr Flandry hadn't noticed.
She needn't have bothered anyway, Miller headed straight for Hettie and Sally and by dint of proximity, Flagg.
"Hello Jimmy! That cash looks heavy, need any help carrying it?" Hettie asked.
"Hello Hettie, sure, once I've wet my whistle." the scrawny man man replied, ogling the woman's massive bust "There's one on account" he added, shoving a dollar bill into Hettie's cleavage, which the busty woman had to pretend to think was funny. Then he grabbed Sally around the waist.
"And how's little Miss Cutts, grown any tits yet?" he asked, his free hand mauling at the skinny girl's chest.
She gave an inadvertent "Ow!", but didn't object, Miller was a heavy spender, Mr Fortner might not like it if she made a fuss.
"Nope!" laughed the unpleasant man "Still flat as a pancake, y'know, I wonder sometimes, Sally, if you ain't just a boy dressed up in a smock, how bout we lift them skirts up and take a look-see?!" he teased, and moving his hand down from her now bruised breast and grabbed at her skirts.
Hettie's mild "Hey, come on Jim, leave her alone..." was not enough to deter the rat from humiliating the poor girl.
Cabot smiled back and nodded as Hettie abandoned her attempts on him. He was relieved she didn't push it. He had nothing against her, just wasn't his idea of a good time. He was probably one of those old fashioned sorts who thought sex should be reserved for someone you had feelings for. Not necessarily married but some sort of mutual care should be involved. Silly in the real world, he knew. By now he was used to being alone in his life. He wasn't unhappy nor particularly happy with life either. He just lived it.
As he turned his back to the bar to lean against it, there was some fuss going on. A man with Hettie (maybe she was in luck now) and the young saloon employee...Sally something. Caroline said she was a dear who tried too hard to please the boss. As he watched his eyes narrowed. What the hell? Even Hettie looked askance and Sally was plainly not wanting anything about the jasper.
He set his beer glass down and turned to Ralph, "I will handle this."
Ralph had noticed alright and his look was deadly. Actually Turk was doing this jasper a favor for if Ralph came out from behind that bar he'd have his oak chair leg in hand and would give the man a real beating.
Turk wasn't planning on being gentle himself though, he approached the trio with a purpose.
"Hey you!" he snapped.
When the man glanced at him, that was enough of an opening for the ex-bounty hunter. Turk dropped him to the floor with a solid roundhouse right then stood over him.
"You asked for that. Now apologize to the young lady. I'll only ask nicely once," he glared.
The man wearing a beard and spectacles who had been nursing a drink further along the bar, turned and watched the following spectacle with some interest and a look of vague satisfaction on what could be seen of his face.
He wasn't so much interested in the idiot who now lay spluttering and gibbering apologies on the floor, nor the prostitute with the tight dress and the big chest who was helping him up and offering to take him back to her place to 'clean him up' and nor, for that matter, in the stolid barman with the admirable taste in face fur.
He was interested in the girl: in the way she quickly interposed herself between her rescuer and her tormentor; how she excused his behaviour; how she tried to convince the man with the flying fists that "Mister Miller's real sorry!" and "He was only funnin'", she was even more profuse in the miserable scum's apologies than he was, and that was saying something! And most all he was struck by the way her eyes shine brightly as she glanced shyly at the man who had stood up for her.
He was interested in that man, too.
The girl hurried off shyly to collect up empty glasses, a queer, slightly mystified look on her docile little face; the whore had taken off her battered trick with his split lip and his continued gibberings about "Not meanin' no harm or nuthin'". Baur slid up the bar a little nearer the man called Flagg.
"Pardon my intrusion, Mister, but that was a pretty smart piece o' work, there. Helping that poor young lady, like that. Pretty damn smart. Would I be out o' place for wanting to buy you drink? Hell, why am I even asking, Barkeep, whatever this gent's drinking and same again for me. Won't take no for an answer!"
His voice was quiet but insistent, an accent that would put his origins somewhere where the bluegrass grew high; he continued to look at Flagg with interest - as if he was deciding whether to say something or not.
Turk hadn't jumped in for the purpose of being a hero in the eyes of the poor girl, he barely even knew her except he'd seen her in the saloon doing her job most times he was in there. But once he had knocked the man to the floor, he had not expected her to practically come to the jasper's defense, making excuses for his inexcusable behavior.
"He better be sorry," Turk glared down at the man then looked to the girl, "That was not funnin' around. Gentlemen don't do that to ladies. And ladies should never accept it."
Hettie now helped the man up and took him away probably figuring he got herself a customer for certain this night. Well, she could have him. Turk wondered if he'd try to be as bullying with her? Though Hettie could probably fend for herself. This Sally though, she didn't seem to have any gumption? Rather sad really.
As the saloon girl scuttled off to do her chores, head down, Turk headed back to the bar to finish his beer. Ralph was already taking care of two other cowpokes further down the bar. The incident was over. Well, he'd done what he could.
Someone moved next to him.
"Pardon my intrusion, Mister, but that was a pretty smart piece o' work, there. Helping that poor young lady, like that. Pretty damn smart. Would I be out o' place for wanting to buy you drink? Hell, why am I even asking, Barkeep, whatever this gent's drinking and same again for me. Won't take no for an answer!"
Ralph answered, "Be right there."
Turk looked at the man, not sure what to think? Did the man have an angle on this or he could be genuinely complimentary too.
"Thank ya. I was brung up to treat women properly. Maybe he learned now the hard way...........but I doubt it," Turk then looked at his glass and back to the man.
"Umm, what I'm drinkin' is a beer."
"Thank ya. I was brung up to treat women properly. Maybe he learned now the hard way...........but I doubt it," Turk then looked at his glass and back to the man.
"Umm, what I'm drinkin' is a beer."
The bespectacled man nodded to Ralph and held up two fingers.
"Yeah, I guess I was brought up that way too. Lord, come to think of it, my poor Mother brought me up to be a living saint and a prince amongst men, God Rest her Soul. Didn't quite turn out that way, o' course. Life happened and I guess I took a few the wrong turns along the trail. But that's all in the past, now." he ruminated quietly, as if talking more to himself than to Turk.
He suddenly stuck out his hand.
"Name's Baur, stranger, Frank Baur. Profession: reformed sinner. I judge by your outfit that you're a cattleman" The chaps were something of a giveaway. "Bout the only job I never did do. Never could take to bein' bossed about, you know? I wonder how a man like you can stick it."
The bespectacled man nodded to Ralph and held up two fingers.
"Yeah, I guess I was brought up that way too. Lord, come to think of it, my poor Mother brought me up to be a living saint and a prince amongst men, God Rest her Soul. Didn't quite turn out that way, o' course. Life happened and I guess I took a few wrong turns along the trail. But that's all in the past, now."
"Oh I hear ya. I would never be called a saint, made my share of mistakes," Flagg fully admitted.
The stranger suddenly stuck out his hand.
"Name's Baur, stranger, Frank Baur. Profession: reformed sinner. I judge by your outfit that you're a cattleman" The chaps were something of a giveaway.
Of course Turk too the hand and they exchanged a vigorous shake, "Mr. Baur, I'm Cabot Flagg but those who know me just call me Turk. My Pa was fond of Cabot but no one else in the family liked it. Including me."
"Bout the only job I never did do. Never could take to bein' bossed about, you know? I wonder how a man like you can stick it," Bauer wondered aloud.
"Well, not a cattle man that's for sure. I am a ranch hand but haven't been at it all that long. I was brought up on a farm til the war. Then I got caught up in that unpleasantry. Once that was over did a few jobs and was a bounty hunter til recently. It only pays if you can bring someone in either alive or draped over the back of a horse. So pay is .......... not sure if this is the word? Intermittent? My school stopped at grade school," Turk gave him some background.
"If yer boss is good, it's alright I reckon. I got no complaints there. But it can be hard work. Least the pay is steady unlike bounty hunting," he shrugged. Turk was never much of a complainer, afterall no one really cared.
"Say, haveta ask. What sort profession is that? Reformed sinner? How do you make yer money?"
Of course Turk took the hand and they exchanged a vigorous shake, "Mr. Baur, I'm Cabot Flagg but those who know me just call me Turk. My Pa was fond of Cabot but no one else in the family liked it. Including me."
“After John Cabot, huh? Not a bad pedigree, but Turk it is.”
Baur didn’t like to ask why ‘Turk’… just hoped it wasn’t short for ‘turkey’.
Turk explained a little more about his job up at the ranch.
"If yer boss is good, it's alright I reckon. I got no complaints there. But it can be hard work. Least the pay is steady unlike bounty hunting," he shrugged. Turk was never much of a complainer, after all no one really cared.
“Less damaging to the health, too, I shouldn’t wonder… not that cattle work’s without its dangers, or so I hear” observed Baur taking a sip of his beer.
"Say, haveta ask. What sort profession is that? Reformed sinner? How do you make yer money?"
The bespectacled man chuckled.
“I don’t... yet. Sorry to say that being reformed is pretty new to me, and I’ve been on the wrong side of the Lord long enough that I can look around a town like this and see a dozen immoral ways to take a scalp, but an honest one eludes me. Still, just a matter of mental application, I reckon. Just a matter of looking around and…”
He peered around, then down at his drink, then at Turk and then called over to Flandry.
“Say, Keep'? This here beer ain’t too bad, where d’you get it from, if that ain’t too enquiring a question?” he asked casually. “I mean, brewed locally, or you have to import this stuff from Helena or someplace?”