1861/05/12 - Where's Padre?

Date: May 12th, 1861
Location: Davey's Saloon.
Players: Roy Davey


Roy walks through the main street of Grimwood towards Davey's Saloon. A comfortable place? Who knows, that's as much comfort as one can hope for in the frontier right? Roy makes his way through the traditional swinging saloon doors of the Davey's Saloon. He makes his way slowly towards the bar while silently contemplating the atmosphere, furniture and people in the saloon. Finally Roy finds his seat by the bar and motions for the barkeep with his right hand nonchalantly.

In his accustomed place behind the long bar, Davey is liberally polishing an slightly clean glass with his grubby towel. Not so much cleaning the thing but giving it an all-over smudge. He nods to Roy as the man beckons, and wobbles over, plonking the glass on the bartop. "What'll ye have, soldier?" he asks in his gruff Irish accent.

Roy slides a union dollar on the bar top discreetly and says to Davey "One cold beer". Roy then lowers his voice before asking in a hushed tone "When was the last time the father of the church visited here?" He looks over his shoulder quickly as if afraid someone might hear or worse. "I hear he ran away with a whore, might be one of your girls?" Roy then settles down on his seat eagerly awaiting for his beer.

Davey nods at the order, and turns to draw off a measure of his own 'Killer Genuine Draft' beer from a keg. He places the foaming glass in front of Roy and makes the money disappear. "The padre?" replies Davey, leaning his alebows on the bar. "Been a while since I've seen him, as it happens" the barman scratches his bald head. "What a Godly and generous man he is, he favoured Nancy quite often" Davey nods up the girls plying their trade from the balcony. "She's still here, though"

Roy lifts the foaming glass of cold beer to his dry lips and takes a drink. After the worst of his thirst is gone he lays the glass down on the bar top again. "So he did not run away with her at least." Roy nods at Davey with his eyes hard and calculating. "How has the business been? I bet that it is good in a new town such as Grimwood."

"Mine ain't the only whores in town, to be sure" says Davey, shrugging. "Could be he was ministering to more than just Nancy" He draws off another glass of KGD and puts it in front of Roy. Then one for himself. "Some" he replies, "This being the first place people see when they hop off the train is good, and the girls make damn sure people buy drinks before they get a tumble. I get by" Davey smiles, then raises his glass, "Wouldn't mind putting that bloody 'Lucky Chance' place out of business, mind. I'm running a poker tournament soon to dig into their trade. Might you be interested in that kind of thing?"

Roy nods at Davey "Certainly, as long as no one brings their gun into the tournament. " Roy proceeds into taking another swig of his beer from the glass. "And as long as there are people there to play with. Two or three hardly makes an exciting game." Roy tries to relax on his chair before asking "What is wrong with the lucky chance? You do not like someone there or something more common?"

Davey jerks a thumb over his shoulder to the sign painted on the large mirror "Standard rules apply, to be sure" he says. "If you've a problem you settle it with fists, or out on the street, and I'm sure there'll be plenty of takers" he says, grinning, "I'm putting up a hundred dollar prize fund" Davey's smile turns to a frown at the mention of the Lucky Chance. "They're competition is why. Right on the south road out of town. They sell drinks and run games, no whores though, so at least I've got 'em there"

Roy drinks the lasts of his beer from the glass. He politely refuses the second one. It might after all be drugged or worse.. Davey mentioned alcohol, whores and a tumble in the same sentence.. Would the women not love to deprive Roy of his hard-earned dollars? "Thank you for the beer" Roy nods and heads for the door. "I guess we will meet again soon in the tournament."

Davey drains his own glass, then reaches for the one refused by Roy. Waste not want not.. "We're always open" says the fatman, raising the drink in salute. "Mind how you go, soldier"

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