Chapter 24
Sporting Girls
The black mare trotted away from the Cable train station, the cutter gliding smoothly over the snow. Junior deliberately passed the road to camp. Tor looked at him, waiting for a reason.
“Let’s take a quick look-see around town, Tor.”
Junior’s passenger did not object. Up and down the streets of Cable they flew, past snow-laden shacks, houses, and horse barns. A flip of the reins and the mare turned down the main street, passing the taverns, gambling halls, sporting houses, shops, and stores crowded together there. Junior suddenly pulled back on the reins and the cutter stopped before the largest hotel in town.
“Let’s go in for a beer, Tor.”
“Who do you think you’re joshing, Junior? We are not going into the hotel bar for no beer.”
“C’mon, Tor! I ain’t never been in a tavern without my pa. Let’s go have ourselves one beer just so as we can say we did.”
“Junior, use your dang brains. My pa would tan my backside and your pa would tan yours. We are not going and that’s that!”
“Well, I’m goin’,” Junior said, dropping the reins and springing out of the cutter. “You can wait for me here, yella belly.”
Junior ran across the rutted street, bounded up onto the boardwalk, and disappeared behind the doors of Joe Merrill’s hotel. Tor hitched the mare to a nearby rail. He crossed the street and soon found Junior sitting at the bar with two large mugs of beer before him.
Five men sat around a poker table in the far corner. Two were well-dressed. Three wore work clothes. Two sporting girls, dressed in fashionable, revealing clothing, stood nearby, watching the game. They all turned to watch Tor enter the room and join Junior at the bar.
“I figured you’d see it my way, Tor,” said Junior. “Here, this one’s for you.” He slid one of the big glasses to Tor who ignored the offer.
“Junior, just what the heck do you think you’re doing?”
“Ten cents,” said the bartender.
“You’ll have to pay up, Tor. I’m dead broke.”
The bartender scowled at him. The two women strolled closer.
“Dang it all, Junior,” whispered Tor, reaching into his pocket, “you’re bound and determined to get me into a whole pile of trouble.” Tor pulled the three silver dollars and the thirteen cents from his pocket. He placed the dime on the bar. “Drink down your dang beer and let’s get out of here.”
“Hi, fellas,” said one of the women, putting her arm around Junior. The other took hold of Tor’s hand before he could return his silver to his pocket. She grabbed the three large coins.
“Sakes alive! Looks like you men came to town lookin’ for a good time. Well, you two can have a real good time with all this money.” Tor reached for the coins but the woman quickly pulled away, turning around.
“Give me back my money!” he ordered. The other woman was already nuzzling Junior’s cheek. Junior had a wide-eyed look of shock on his face. The woman with Tor’s money smiled at him, then slid the coins into the top of her dress. “Dang it all, Junior!” Tor snapped. But Junior heard not a word.
“Here’s the deal, Sonny,” said the woman, “You want your money? Well, you’ll just have to reach right in and take it.”
“Listen, ma’am, I’m not reaching down your dress for my money. Either you are going to give it back to me right now or I am going to find the owner of this hotel and he’ll settle this. Now—give—me—back—my—three—dollars.” The bartender looked on with a wide grin. Two of the men at the poker table turned and stared.
“Shush up, Sonny. I was only joshin’ you. I’m just warmin’ your money up for you, that’s all. How about you fellas buy us a beer. You know, boys, the four of us could have a real good time on your three bucks.”
“Just—give—me—back—my—three—dollars! Look, it is my money and you stole it.” Tor raised his voice. “If you don’t give it back right now, lady, I swear I will report you.”
“All right! All right! Don’t get in such a huff about it,” she said, looking toward the poker table. “I’ll give you your three dollars back. Just quiet down, Sonny.” She moved toward him seductively. “Here, go ahead.” She pressed in close to him, trapping him against the bar. “Just reach down there and you’ll find your money, Sonny.” She smiled broadly and rotated her shoulders. “Go ahead. If you want your three dollars so bad, just take them.”
The bartender laughed. Junior couldn't move. The woman next to him now had one hand on his thigh, the other around his neck. One of the well-dressed poker players walked toward them.
“C’mon, Sonny, reach in and you’ll have your money and maybe more.”
Tor, still trapped against the bar, moved as far back as he could. The well-dressed man was close now.
“You got a problem here, girls?”
“Why, no, Bill, not at all. These boys just came in for some fun and we’re bound to oblige them.”
“Lady, we didn’t come here to spend our money on you. Now, for the last time, give—me—back—my—three—dollars.”
The woman reached deep into her dress and pulled out two of the three coins, shook them in her outstretched hand, then dropped them into Tor’s palm.
“Now the other dollar,” he snapped.
“All right, all right. Don’t get in a damn fuss. I was only foolin’ with you. I wasn’t gonna keep your dang money, Sonny. Can’t a girl have some fun?” She dug down again and pulled out the third coin. But, instead of giving it to Tor, she slapped it into Junior’s hand.
“There, Junior, see how nice and warm that dollar is?”
Junior couldn’t speak.
“You want to warm your hands up on me and Mabel? It seems like your friend here ain’t quite man enough yet. You know, for that dollar there, Junior, you and me and Mabel can have a real good time. Real good, Junior.”
“He’s dead broke,” snapped Tor, grabbing the coin from his friend’s hand. He dropped the coins in his pocket.
The man in the neat clothes stepped closer. “Gertie, that’s enough. Find some other shanty boys to work on. These fellas are not your type.”
“Whatever you say, Bill. You’re the constable.” She turned away. “Just tryin’ to take care of the men, Bill. That’s our job, you know.”
Mabel, now on Junior’s lap, slid off seductively, the expression of shock and surprise still painted across the young man’s face. His jaw dropped as she vigorously rubbed his thigh. She pulled away laughing.
“Next time you’re in town, Junior, you bring some money and be sure to look up Miss Mabel Durst at the Merrill Hotel. You and me can have a few beers and a whole lotta fun, Junior.” She sauntered off, joining Gertrude near the poker table. Mabel turned back, adding “And Junior, next time you better leave your pal with his nanny until he grows up to be a man like you.”
Tor ignored the insult. Junior was in shock. The constable remained.
“What camp you from, boys?” said Bill Burns.
“Namakagon Timber Company,” said Tor. “Came to send a telegram.”
“There’s no telegraph office, here, Son. Olaf Loken probably figured you’d know enough to go to the train station.”
“Yes, sir, we stopped there first. My pal, Junior here, got us sidetracked on the way back to camp.”
They both looked at Junior who was finally recovering from his overwhelming exposure to Mabel Durst.
“You all right, boy?” said Burns. “You look like you been face to face with a she-bear.”
“I think maybe I were,” was all Junior could muster for a reply. He fumbled for his beer, took a gulp, spilling some on his shirt.
“Boys, the sporting gals have a job to do, just like you shanty boys, the gandy dancers, the miners, the businessmen, the preacher, and the undertaker. Don’t hold it against the gals if they get a bit over-ambitious now and then. They don’t mean no harm. Just want to show the men a good time and earn their pay.” Gertrude, overhearing this, nodded and
smiled at them.
“No hard feelings,” said Tor, loud enough for Gertrude and Mabel to hear. “Let’s get going, Junior!”
“What’s your name, Son?”
“I’m Tor, this is Junior.”
“Tor what?”
“Tor Loken. My pa is Olaf and my uncle is Ingman.”
“Well, I’ll be danged!” replied the constable. “You’re the lad who has the whole pinery buzzin’ like a bee hive. You and that old Indian Chief. You helped foil those two train robbers the other day, right? You’re sort of a hero around here, Tor.” He turned. “Two more beers for these good citizens, Pete!”
“No,” said Tor. “We are obliged, sir, but we gotta get goin’. It’ll be dark before we get home as it is, thanks to Junior, here.”
“Pete,” said Burns, “let me see that newspaper.” The bartender handed Burns the hotel’s copy of the North Country News.
“Here, Son, take this back to your camp. Find someone to read it to your shanty boys. They’ll get a big kick out of it.”
Tor read the headlines.
BOY AND INDIAN CHIEF FOIL TRAIN ROBBERY. One outlaw presumed dead. Other shot and stabbed. Governor to honor heroes for ridding pinery of dishonorables.
“Holy jumpin’ Jehosaphat, Junior! Take a gander at this.”
“What does it say, Tor?” said Junior, finally regaining some composure.
“It says you won your gol dang bet, that’s what it says.” Then, to the constable, “Is Chief Namakagon all right?”
“Fit as a fiddle, according to the paper. Says there that he got beat up and left to die but the tough old rooster wouldn’t hear of it. Why, I expect to see ol’ Namakagon back in town any day now.”
“Junior, I do believe I’ll be drinking that beer, now. Wait till Pa and Uncle Ingman see this!” Tor folded the newspaper and stuffed it into a coat pocket. “Thank you for helping us out of our tangle, Constable.”
“Bill, Bill Burns, Railroad Constable. If ever you need my assistance, young man, you just ask away. It’s a pleasure to know the fella who helped hog-tie those hoodlums.”
“Let’s go, Junior.”
Junior gulped down his beer, slamming the mug on the bar. As they turned to leave, two more lumberjacks entered the hotel bar. Mabel and Gertrude were at their side before the boys reached the door.
Tor untied the mare and climbed into the cutter. He did not hand the reins to Junior. With the sun just over the treetops, the long-legged mare trotted down the street. Before turning onto the east road, the cutter pulled up in front of the big windows of the general store.
“I’ll be back, Junior. Now, wait right here!”
Tor ran up the steps to the large front door. He returned moments later, jumped back into the cutter, and they soon sped toward Lake Namakagon.
“Tor,” said Junior, “soon as I get paid some of my winnin’s, I’m comin’ back. Yep, I’m comin’ back and goin’ straight into that hotel bar again.”
“That’s a fool’s way of thinking, Junior. You and all your money will be soon parted.”
“I don’t have no choice in the matter. Tor, I—am—a—man—in—love.”