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Horace Potee

NPC
  • Content Count

    13
  • Last visited

  • Player

    Preston

About Horace Potee

ID Card

  • Role
    Supporting Character
  • Playby
    Montana Historical
  • Full Name
    Horace Josiah Potee
  • Goes By
    Po
  • Profession
    Homesteader - farmer - pig farmer - sod buster
  • Position
    Head of the Family
  • Birth Date
    06/06/1851
  • Status
    Married
  • Height
    5'6"
  • Hair Color
    Dark brown
  • Eye Color
    Dark brown

Physical Description

Stocky and solid.  Neanderthal brow, low ears, jutting chin.

Traits & Characteristics

An honest man, hardworking, dependable.   He is a bit slow, but once his mind is made up, it is almost impossible to get him to change it.  He believes in plain dealing, and he has a vague uneasiness when he is round fast talkers.  His great weakness?  GAMBLING.

Employment

A homesteader on a spread outside Kalispell.  He lives in a small place with his wife, Emma, and his daughter, Abigail. 

 

Expertise

Aliases / Nicknames

the pejoratives he hears hurled at him are: Pig Farmer, Sob Buster, Tatter picker, squatter.

Residense(s)

Kith & Kin

Life Events

He is a loner (except for his family).  He began homesteading in 1875 .. since then, all he has to show for it are callouses and grain and feed bills.

Character Notes

Player Notes

Other Characters by this Player

  • Franklin Fortner
  • ACTIVE
  • 73 posts
  • Player
    Preston
    Playby
    Brian Donlevy
    Goes By
    Frank
    Birth Date
    03/15/1838
    Height
    5'8"
    Hair Color
    Brown
    Eye Color
    Brown
  • Esquire
  • Hon. Hiram Priest esq.
  • ACTIVE
  • 33 posts
  • Player
    Preston
    Playby
    Samual S. Hinds
    Goes By
    Judge
    Birth Date
    5-04-1826
    Height
    5'10"
    Hair Color
    White
    Eye Color
    Gray
  • Maude Potee
  • NPC
  • 9 posts
  • Player
    Preston
    Playby
    Maude
    Goes By
    Maude
    Birth Date
    07/28/1843
    Height
    5'2"
    Hair Color
    Mousy Brown
    Eye Color
    Mousy Brown
  • Micah McGregor
  • NPC
  • 6 posts
  • Player
    Preston
    Playby
    Jock Ewing
    Goes By
    Micah
    Birth Date
    12/25/1825
    Height
    5'11"
    Hair Color
    White
    Eye Color
    Blue

Recent Posts

  1. Horace Potee
    "Oh, I don't know, Arabella," Fortner mused.  "Seems to me they're light a Queen or three.  You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"  It was true.  
     
    Arabella reached in her pocket and retrieved the lost queens, it didn't matter to Fortner.  You couldn't have the miasma of crookedness hovering over a card game --- even if it was crooked.   Everything had to be above board -- sort of.  That's why Fortner asked Ralph for a new deck of cards.
     
    It didn't seem to phase Arabella who was never at a loss for folksy bromides that gave the illusion of problem solving.
     
    "You know, Mister Potee, some people call me The Queen of Hearts, cause everybody loves me so much, but I'm more like the Queen of Spades, she's a real Femme Fatale!" she informed the simple yokel.
     
    "I dunno what that means, Missy," Potee declared, and so loudly that it turned heads at some nearby tables.
     
    Caroline sighed and announced, "I'll get ya another pack, boss." Then she spun about and headed for the bar where they did extra cards in unopened packages.  Miss Devereau never wanted anything to do with marked decks.
     
    "Thanks, Caroline," Frank said, realizing the position he'd put the bartender in.  "Sorry, Ralph!" he called.
     
    "Yeah, you'll be stompin' on everyone's toes Mr F. if you don't know: Ralph just serves the drinks and thumps the drunks; Caro just sings the songs and drinks the drinks; Cookie just cooks the food; and I do every blessed other thing in this place! And I guess you just sorta watch us doin' it all day long." Arabella explained, helpfully.
     
    Franklin Fortner nodded but said nothing.  His mind was on some soon-to-happen fleecing.
     
    Potee, impatient to continue his winning streak, drummed his fingers on the table.  Then, to Arabella, he said, "I ain't superstitious about gambling, so I don't care if'n he gets new cards.  But say, do have a lucky charm on you, like a rabbit's foot of something like that?"
     
    Arabella nodded, and produced a very disreputable looking handkerchief which bore the evidence off a few years' worth of colds, runny noses, sneezes, nosebleeds and stubborn boogers. "This is my binky, it's the only thing I still got what I brought out of Virginia. It's the most precious thing I got after my bible." she told him. 
     
    Arabella was no quieter than Potee was, and a voice from the depths of the saloon began singing, "Carry me back to old Virginie." 
     
    "But you can't have that. How 'bout this. This French feller from Canada came in one time last month or so and give me this, my binky's good enough luck fer me, so you can have it." she rummaged in her apron pocket and handed him a small silver charm, shaped like a pig with a little heart on it. "He said it was a..." she frowned trying to remember "... a 'porte boneur' and that I was a fille à l'air étrange whatever the heck that means."
     
    "Ah Hell no, Lil Darlin'," Horace protested.  "All I gotta do is touch it and the luck will rub off."  He then reached over and rubbed the charm with his grubby fingers.   "I aim to be King of the World after this game is over. Oh, and don't be wastin' yer time with any French fellers.  They're a bad lot disguising their wicked ways with fancy talk."  Then, as if jolted back to reality by liquor driven greed, he asked, "Where the hell are those cards!"
     
     
  2. Horace Potee
    It looked to Fortner that Caroline was not going to go along with his scheme.  The pride of the Star Dust was deliberating out loud, and, in a way, it touched him.
     
    "I've always been a good worker, all my bosses would back me on that. I wanna help ya, I do," Caroline was obviously battling with her conscience.
     
    Then it came to her, "Hey! How bout this? What if it's just coffee....coffee that's been sitting for awhile and lost all it's heat? Then he would still be startled and wet but he wouldn't be hurt?"
     
    The saloon girl never claimed to be a saint but she'd never been needlessly cruel either.
     
    "Not only are you pretty, but you're smart," Frank said.  "That's a good idea.  So, at some point, when I ask if you will clear the table, you can spill it then."
     
    They left through the kitchen door and reentered the saloon.
     
    *********************************************************************************************
     
    "Oh, Mr Potee, do you really think you should drink any more?"
     
    "I paddle my own canoe, Miss," Potee stated, still staring at his old maid hand.
     
    "You look like you need a lie down to me, and a nice drink of cool, healthful water. Listen, Mr Potee, you have a wonderful wife; I know she ain't much to look at, some folks might even call her ugly, but she loves you dearly, and a pretty little daughter, why don't you go home and lie in the bosoms of your family? You know, when Jesus turned the water into wine, he didn't expect... oh oh!!"
     
    This was too much for Horace.  "I don't  need no preachin'!  I need to keep up my winning streak, that's what."
     
    Fortner and Caroline were coming back, so she clammed up: they couldn't hear her, of course, but she figured the halo shining above her head might give her away. 
     
    It was going to be a short game: she had a Jack and a Queen. She held up her hand: he must have a single Jack left in his hand. "Pick a card." she said swiftly - she could only hope he would pick the Queen, that might decide him to call it a night.
     
    The Sod Buster reached across with his hand, his fingers waving over the top of the cards.  Just then, he noticed his playmates coming back from the kitchen.
     
    "Oops!   Here they come!" he said with drunk enthusiasm;  the card game with the girl now forgotten.
     
    "What the hell were you doin'?" Horace at the two.  "Pluckin' a chicken?"
     
    Fortner patted Caroline on the back and answered, "Oh ..just tending to business, Mr. Potee.  Tending to business."
  3. Horace Potee
    The game of Old Maid progressed.  Horace was a little bit familiar with it because he played it sometimes with his daughter.
     
    Answering the call, he laid down a four-of-diamonds and a four-of-clubs.
    "Beat that!" he said.
     
    Arabella gave him a frown "What're jawin about Mr. P., you gotta thown down all your pairs in Old Maid, don't you know that? Are you all right? You're lookin' mighty squirrel. What you been drinking?" He did look woozy.
     
    "Listen, I don't want folks thinkin' I slipped you a mickey so I could cheat you out of house 'n' home, I'm a good Methodist girl, Mr Potee, I'm a child of the Connexion." she said earnestly. "Oh, two fives!" she was now all out of pairs and had a dirty great big Queen of Spades in her hand."
     
    Horace WAS dizzy.  He picked up his hand and studied them, then set them down.
     
    "Hey good Christian girl.   Would you please ask the barkeep for another belt?"  He reached down and sent a silver dollar from his bank skidding over to her.  Get one for yourself if you're of a mind to."
  4. Horace Potee
    "Did you egg her on?"
     
    Arabella sat calmly removing three of the queens from the deck, so they could play Old Maid and absently shoved them in her apron pocket. "I wasn't egg-noggin nobody on. Matter of fact, I was tellin' your good lady missus that 'a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do' and she's gotta let you sow your wild oats. And do you know what this one feller told me once: he said 'Pins and needles, needles and pins... er..." she had shuffled the deck now and was dealing them out between them both "... er, half the funs in doin' them sins!" 
     
    "Oh you did, huh?" the drunken homesteader burped out.  But then he thought, What the Hell?  Why not handle some cards while he passed the time waiting for Fortner and Caroline, his new friends, to return.
     
    He picked up his cards and stared at them while the pips danced in his eyes.  Boy! Those drinks were potent.
     
    "All right, throw down your pairs!" she grinned. Then the talk of sins got to her. She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a dirty looking red cent and placed it coyly on the table. 
     
    "You wanna make it... more interestin', Mr. Potee!?"
     
    "I'm in," he gruffly answered after fishing around in his pocket and removing a penny.  "I had to work hard for this, Missy!" he said grandly before setting it near hers.
     
    Answering the call, he laid down a four-of-diamonds and a four-of-clubs.
     
    "Beat that!" he said.
  5. Horace Potee
    When she was bored of that, she wandered over to the planned table of the 'big game' and slumped down opposite the intended gull. "How 'bout a game of Old Maid Mr Potee? Say, did Mrs Potee go home? We had a nice talk in the kitchen. Or snap, I'm good at that, let's play snap!." 
     
    Potee looked at the young lady through the lens of an emptied glass.
     
    He was of two minds.  On the one hand he was flush with liquor and gambling victories.  And now, he was just waiting for a chance to expand on his good fortune.  Then, on the other hand, his wife and he had harsh words for each other.  It could be beyond repair.  So, as his heart soared with elation, there was a painful drag on it as well.
     
    He brought the glass down on the table with a bang.
     
    "So were you fillin' my Maude's head full of high-flyin' ideas?  Is that why she disobeyed her husband in front of his friends?  Did you egg her on?"
  6. Horace Potee
    "Horace," she nodded, "Ain't that hard, hon. You just gotta walk on over there and sit down. But as for poker, I don't know the game, don't play it. Figure it's a game for menfolk. "
     
     
    Horace beamed.  Now they were talking.
     
    "Well, I got me some cash in my poke, like to think, maybe, I could turn it into something more?"  He looked to where she pointed, and then back to her again,  dazzling her with what he thought was a roguish smile.  In truth, is was an advertisement cautioning against poor dental hygiene. 
     
    Frank shrugged.  "I don't know, Horace.  Me and some the boys are pretty shrewd card players.  I wouldn't want you to come out of it a poor man."
     
    Horace straightened.  "Why I'm one of the shrewdest card players this side of the Missouri River."  What then followed was spun from sheer fantasy.  "I've played my way from St. Joe to Dodge City to Bozeman.  I've sat across from Doc Holliday until he emptied his last dollar out of his pockets."
     
    "Impressive, Sir!" Franklin praised.  "Say, Ralph!  Set us up with another round, - on the house."
     
    Horace sidled nearer to Caroline. 
     
    "I understand if'n you don't play cards, but will you watch me take some fellers to the cleaners?"
     
     
  7. Horace Potee
    The liquor got him talking now, Caroline figured it would. She just swallowed her latest colored water, sober as schoolgirl.
     
    "I got me forty acres out north of town," Potee continued on his quest to impress Caroline.  "I got two heifers  and the strongest mule in the whole Montana Territory.  I can plow a acre before lunchtime." 
     
    Caroline nodded, "Impressive but I bet the mule does the hard work."
     
    "Well we both work our asses off," Horace started, then... "oh, excuse the language, we both help each other.  How's that?"  The truth was, the hardest working creature on the homestead was the long suffering Maude.  But, for some reason, he wanted to keep his wife out of the conversation.
     
    The farmer held his arm out and then brought his fist back to his ear in the classic pose to show muscle.  Then, in a daring bit of suggestiveness, far beyond his usual, he added, "Do you like muscle?"
     
    "On some men, sure!" Caroline nodded, she did not add  'young men more my age.'
     
    "I like smart men too though, hon."
     
    Frank spoke across Caroline and to Horace.
     
    "So tell me, Mr. Potee.  Do you like the Star Dust?  As a new owner, I'd like to know."
     
    Horace felt honored to be "Mister'd" by the owner of the establishment.  In fact, it was turning out to be a great day for him.  He was hobnobbing with the elite!  That included the lovely Caroline who, in Horace's mind, was quite taken with him.
     
    "Sure do, sir.  Sure do.  Hell, I'd like to ditch my homestead and find a job in town!  That way I can just cross the street and treat myself to this red eye!"  All this was said loudly.  It prompted low snickers from some of the other patrons.  It also was heard way off in the kitchen where Maude buried her head in her hands.  Most important of all, it was heard by Hiram Priest, who licked his lips like a predator ready to devour some helpless prey.
     
    "Tell me, er .. Mr. Potee.." began Frank.
     
    "Horace!  Please." Potee begged.
     
    "All right, Horace." Frank corrected.  "You look like a man of the world, one who doesn't need to be coddled by anyone.  Do you ever partake in games of chance?"
     
    "Miss Caroline?"  Horace asked the star of the Star Dust.  "Do I look like I can manage my way around a poker table?"
     
     
     
  8. Horace Potee
    I hope they treat you good here, ma'am .. er.. miss," Potee ventured.
     
    "Awww, how sweet of you to worry about little ol' me, but I'm treated just fine," Caroline smiled.
     
    Frank, who'd been leaning on the bar and facing towards Ralph, said,
    I hope they treat you good here, ma'am .. er.. miss," Potee ventured.
     
    "Awww, how sweet of you to worry about little ol' me, but I'm treated just fine," Caroline smiled.
     
    Frank, who'd been leaning on the bar and facing towards Ralph, said, "She'll get every penny she earns.  You can count on that Mr. Potee."
     
    Frank appreciated Caroline's smarts and her savvy.  It promised to be a great partnership.
     
    Horace was filled with bonhomie.
     
    "Barkeep! ", he said now with a touch of bravado.  "Another drink for me and the lady!"
     
    Ralph performed his drink-pouring ritual with the speed and accuracy of a magician performing some art of leisure-de-main. 
     
    Caroline raised her glass, "Thank ya, hon. Yer a peach."
     
    She also thought he was an idiot but it was a long standing rule, the customer was never turned down long as he could pay.
     
    Horace felt appreciated and sought-after.  It had been ages since he'd felt that way.  His usual existence of listening to Maude chide him over some perceived, unholy, misdeeds had gotten tiring for the hardworking homesteader.  Now, there he was, in the Star Dust Saloon tickling the fancy of Miss Caroline. -- and visa versa.
     
    "Didn't I hear that you know your way around a song?" he asked his hostess.  I bet you sing like an angel.  I used to do a bit of singing myself." (He did not confess that the only singing he did was in a church choir).
     
    Fortner turned away and smothered a grin and, in doing so, spotted Hiram Priest taking in Potee's grandness by slowly, sadly, shaking his head. 
     
    "I got me forty acres out north of town," Potee continued on his quest to impress Caroline.  "I got two heifers  and the strongest mule in the whole Montana Territory.  I can plow a acre before lunchtime."  He held his arm out and then brought his fist back to his ear in the classic pose to show muscle."   Then, in a daring bit of suggestiveness, far beyond his usual, he added, "Do you like muscle?"
  9. Horace Potee
    Franklin looked grave.  "Claim jumping .. or I guess homestead jumping sounds like a serious offense, mister.   But maybe they were just cowpokes passing through and trying to have a little fun?"
     
    Caroline now thought she knew why Fortner called that trio of skunks his employees, it was all making more sense now.
     
    Horace scratched his head.  "I dunno.  I dunno." he repeated.  "Anyway, I ought'n to be bothering you with my troubles, Miss," he said to Caroline.  "You must get a lot of complainers comin' in here and you're probably tired of it."
     
    Caroline sipped her 'whiskey', "You ain't botherin' me none. The only customers I don't like is the mean kind. And they don't get to stay in the place fer long, trust me. Yer just fine, hon. My advice is just relax and don't go gettin' all upset about things. Life goes on."
     
    Horace did something he hadn't done in a long, long time;  He smiled.  It wasn't exactly a winning smile what with two missing teeth; an incisor and a front tooth, but this girl made him feel so good, so manly and even a bit desirable. 
     
    "I hope they treat you good here, ma'am .. er.. miss," he ventured, now a knight defending a princess.
     
    Frank, who'd been leaning on the bar and facing towards Ralph, said, "She'll get every penny she earns.  You can count on that Mr. Potee."
     
    By now the farmer was beginning to feel the effects of the two drinks.  "I don't know where they make this panther juice, but it beats the homemade stuff from jug that someone hands me.  "Barkeep! ", he said now with a touch of bravado.  "Another drink for me and the lady!"
     
    Potee's burst of bonhomie caused Hiram Priest to a pause, mid-play, and watch the mark carefully.  A slight smile creased his lips.
  10. Horace Potee
    Frank slipped to the far side of Caroline and whispered.  "Be real nice to this one."
     
    Caroline wasn't really sure why her boss thought this farmer was so important, she must be missing something going on but she nodded, then whispered, "Sure thing."
     
    No sooner had Potee put his glass down when Caroline was grinning right in his face, "I'm a nice gal and you seem like the nice sort. I admire a hard workin' farming man. It can't be easy." 
     
    "Oh!  Heck no, ma'am.  The mule's on his last legs, aphid, or some damned bug has gotten to some of the crops, plus I keep gettin' visits by saddle bums who keep tryin' to chase me off my homestead.  Why the hell they bother with me, I don't know.  I'm thinkin' it might be ranchers wanting to water and feed their herds on my land."
     
    Frank looked to Hiram Priest who sat at his table, rolling a wad of tobacco from cheek to cheek as he listed to Potee expound.  When Priest made eye contact with him, Frank ever so imperceptibly nodded.
     
    "That drink went down fast, you could probably use another I'm thinkin', hon. Oh and I wouldn't mind one too. Lot of gentlemen offer me drinks ya know."
     
    "Sure thing, Miss!" he answered as grandly as a dirt farmer could.  "Bartender!  Another one for me and one for the lady."
     
    Horace, emboldened by the whisky, began again about the tough times and the poor treatment he'd experienced.
     
    "Nobody's gonna chase me off my place like I was a flock of geese.  I'm there to stay and the only way I'm gonna leave is in a pine box."  A chuckled rose from one the tables, and Horace spun around to see if he could spot the person who'd done it, but all eyes were down and all smiles smothered. 
     
    He drank some more, and wiped his lips with the sleeve of his shirt.
     
    Franklin looked grave.  "Claim jumping .. or I guess homestead jumping sounds like a serious offense, mister.   But maybe they were just cowpokes passing through and trying to have a little fun?"
     
    Horace scratched his head.  "I dunno.  I dunno." he repeated.  "Anyway, I ought'n to be bothering you with my troubles, Miss," he said to Caroline.  "You must get a lot of complainers comin' in here and you're probably tired of it."
     

About Sagas

Sagas of the WIld West is a roleplaying game set in a fictionalized version of the town of Kalispell in Montana territory. Our stories begin in 1875 and are set against the backdrop of actual historical events.Sagas was inspired by the classic television and movie westerns. Our focus is on writing, storytelling and character development.

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