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By Arabella Mudd · Posted
“Hotel’s over there!” she pointed in the general direction of the Belle-St. Regis before folding her arms and frowning . "I know, I can read signs, child," Caroline smirked. Child?! Hmph! “You can read?” asked Arabella, sounding surprised. But the woman dodged the potgirl with all the skill of a Yale football player, and had moved toward Mr Flandry at the bar. Arabella gave a hard stare at all of the fellers staring at this up-town fancy girl, some of them looked like they’d about twist their own heads off, the way they were craning their necks around. Arabella waved her hands at them, teacher like, to indicate that they should get back to their drinks and cards, and followed after the interloper. "Excuse me, mister but is the owner of this fine establishment present? I am eager to tell her the good news," she smiled confidently. Ralph paused then replied, "She is upstairs. Good news you say, miss?" "Oh indeed, I can't wait to meet her. Her search for an entertainer is over. I'm here! " Caroline announced. Ralph had to break into a bit of a smile himself at this bubbly and bold young woman, "You don't say? And you would be....?" "I am Caroline....Caroline Mundee, and if I wasn't so modest I would add 'simply the finest saloon singer west of the Mississippi.' And if you don't believe me, you will once you hear me sing." There wasn’t much room between Caroline and the bar, but Arabella managed to somehow sidle into it and get between the hussy and poor innocent Ralph, who, not seeming to have much to do with women, in her opinion, might be taken in by this painted lady. “Not today, thank you!” she announced brightly. “We already have an entertainer, and that’s called me!” she told Caroline, jerking a thumb at her flat chest. “Singin’, Dancin’, Piannerin’ Cartwheels and telling funny jokes. And also, I’m an orphan, so the management don’t have to pay me one red cent!” she explained. "You look kinda pricy!" “But don’t give up.” she continued, in mock helpful tones “There’s a town called Whitefish, just down the road, I hear the saloon there is looking for some…” she looked the curvaceous bimbo up and down “… ‘ singer’s there.” Then she turned and shook a warning head vigorously at Mr. Flandry, as if to say Don’t be tempted by the pleasures of the flesh my son, even if there is a good deal of it on show! But he wasn’t even looking at Arabella, he was staring at the demi-monde, polishing the same glass, with a stupid silly grin on his bearded face the like of which she’d never seen before. Maybe this entertainer did hypnotism, too, she thought; that’d explain it. -
By Adelaide Chappel · Posted
"No judgin' our stories," Addy commented, "we all got our different experiences, an' reckon livin' in a saloon was...eclectic...lots'a interestin' characters, I reckon, give ya a chance ta learn different ideas." She shrugged, chuckling. "Most folks just hunker down in their house, go ta th' same church with th' same people, see th' same folks in town, then when they step out, it's a surprise ta them." So many people, in her experience, never ventured more than a few miles beyond their home, not sought out experiences or people outside of their small circle. But even if Miz Caroline hadn't been much past her saloon, the people coming and going likely provided a good array of experiences. "I'd not be able ta sleep with all th' noise, though," she added, "one thing listenin' ta horses munchin' an' stompin' now an' then, but shoutin' an' chairs movin' an' boots stompin'...that'd keep me awake all night!" @Wayfarer -
By Jacob Lutz · Posted
[Clara and Jacob, under the Moon] "Roughing It? I will remember that if ever I should spot it someplace," Clara declared. Then at his mention of her employer she had an idea. Jacob shrugged. “Well, we might have very different tastes, but I don’t think you know if you’ll like something unless you try it one time.” He was presumably talking about literature. "Say, I will ask her if she would mind if you borrow a few of her books, that is if you interested. I am quite confident she would not refuse, she is most generous that way. Just make sure you are responsible enough to return them once you have finished them." The rustic lad shook his head almost dolefully. “No need to worry there, I do hate to borrow anything.” He revealed. “Be it as small as a tack, it sort of weighs heavy on my soul until it’s returned to its rightful owner. It’s like old adage: ‘Never a lender nor borrower be’. I’ll never be a debtor if I can help it, that’s one good thing.” The very idea of being in debt seemed to revolt his very soul. “New books to read are the one exception, that’s the one forbidden fruit that I’m tempted enough to borrow.” His early listing of activities sounded very much like some typical boy, Wyatt would approve of any of them. Well, until he got to the part about being enthralled by staring up into the stars. And he expressed it quite elegantly too. "Well said, Jacob," she sincerely complimented him. He shook his head a little in surprise at the compliment. When you talked about something as beautiful as the night sky, or the majestic scenery of Northern Montana, or a girl like Clara Redmond, well, it was hard not to wax poetical. "So, Jacob Lutz, a poet? You are quite the unique young fellow I must say. Although it does seem rather a waste of time and effort if you simply destroy them rather than share with a reader. Perhaps they are quite good, people might just enjoy them?" He frowned a little at that idea. “I doubt that. And I certainly wouldn't enjoy anyone reading them. It’d be like …” he searched for a suitable embarrassing simile “… being stripped naked and paraded down Main Street!” He smiled at that. “No, I think the hogs enjoy them more than any potential reader of the things, anyway.” "Well, we do not have hogs although Father has expressed an interest someday in purchasing a few. And no, I have never attempted to write poetry. I do not think I would be very good at it anyhow. Although...."she paused then continued, "I would someday like to read at least one of yours. Perhaps you might wrote a poem about me? I would be honored of course." “What makes you think that I haven’t already?” he grinned sheepishly, before adding “I didn’t feed those ones to the hogs. I can assure you. Mind you, though, they’re pretty well hid!” He quickly moved on from the subject, feeling a little exposed. “And how about you, Clara? I know that you like to read, too. But, well, if you had a whole day off of work, how would you spend it?” he asked by way of enquiry about her pastimes. @Wayfarer -
By Caroline Mundee · Posted
Caroline took in the place, noting the long bar with a not to be scoffed at selection of bottled liquors displayed on the shelves behind it then the dozen or so tables scattered about. Ahh yes, and even more crucial at least regarding her future employment, there was a piano in the far corner and a small stage too. Perfect! She liked it already. Now there were a few customers within. At one table two old men were playing cards, half drained beer glasses keeping them company as they studied their cards. Another man, a cowpoke, leaned up against the bar, conversing with a bearded bartender. Could that be Mr.....Mr...Flandry, yes she was pretty sure that was the name. As for the woman owner, no woman was currently in sight. Not quite true, there was a girl now eying her, she had paused in scrubbing the floor. At least the business tried to keep their place cleaner than some joints she had been in. The young missie did not look pleased for some reason. “Hotel’s over there!” she pointed in the general direction of the Belle-St. Regis before folding her arms and frowning . "I know, I can read signs, child," Caroline smirked. She then turned to address the bartender who by then was aware of her presence as apparently were all the men in the place. She was used to be gawked it, didn't bother her none. "Excuse me, mister but is the owner of this fine establishment present? I am eager to tell her the good news," she smiled confidently. Ralph paused then replied, "She is upstairs. Good news you say, miss?" "Oh indeed, I can't wait to meet her. Her search for an entertainer is over. I'm here! " Caroline announced. Ralph had to break into a bit of a smile himself at this bubbly and bold young woman, "You don't say? And you would be....?" "I am Caroline....Caroline Mundee, and if I wasn't so modest I would add 'simply the finest saloon singer west of the Mississippi.' And if you don't believe me, you will once you hear me sing." -
By Clara Redmond · Posted
[Clara and Jacob, under the Moon] The boy certainly seemed quite sincere and enthusiastic about books and reading. Clara was impressed. It also proved something. City folk sometimes seemed to think farm people were ignorant rustics and she never liked that attitude. "Roughing It? I will remember that if ever I should spot it someplace," Clara declared. Then at his mention of her employer she had an idea. "Say, I will ask her if she would mind if you borrow a few of her books, that is if you interested. I am quite confident she would not refuse, she is most generous that way. Just make sure you are responsible enough to return them once you have finished them." Clara of course had been diligent and punctual about a quick turnaround when she borrowed volumes from the kindly woman. She then inquired about the sort of things he did for what bits of leisure time he might have between farm work, fun activities as it were. Yes, even she had occasions where she indulged in a bit of fun. Life did not have to be all work. His early listing of activities sounded very much like some typical boy, Wyatt would approve of any of them. Well, until he got to the part about being enthralled by staring up into the stars. And he expressed it quite elegantly too. "Well said, Jacob," she sincerely complimented him. But then he added a revelation she would never have guessed. Poetry. He wrote poetry?! At first it sounded hard to believe but on second thought what with all his love of books and his suprisingly impressive way of speaking, it did make sense. "So, Jacob Lutz, a poet? You are quite the unique young fellow I must say. Although it does seem rather a waste of time and effort if you simply destroy them rather than share with a reader. Perhaps they are quite good, people might just enjoy them?" The reality was, in fact she had declared such to Miss Emeline when they discussed books and yes, poetry, that she personally did not like poetry. It seemed foolish and held no interest for her. Still, she was not about to admit that to Jacob. In this particular case just MAYBE, she might peruse his work and approve. Now her own favorite pastime, though granted she seldom got to do it, now seemed much more mundane. She liked to swim in the small lake just off their farm property. Nothing was more refreshing after a stretch of hard labor on a hot summer day. "Well, we do not have hogs although Father has expressed an interest someday in purchasing a few. And no, I have never attempted to write poetry. I do not think I would be very good at it anyhow. Although...."she paused then continued, "I would someday like to read at least one of yours. Perhaps you might wrote a poem about me? I would be honored of course."
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