Nutmeg Dolnoon slid the tankard of ale along the bar and into the thirsty clutches of Jake ‘Cesspit Yellowbelly’ Jones, as she began, and promptly stopped, serving Herbert Hatherthwaite with his spicy sarsaparilla; Maverick Mannering played wildly on the honky-tonk piano as Violet Dolnoon tried to sing and cancan along, in an attempt to diffuse the tension that had mounted between the three players on the poker table.
“One moment, Herb,” Nutmeg said as the round table was tipped over and shouted, “Father, don’t play, sort them out… they’ve all had one too many tequilas, and the bearded one in the black outfit and stetson looks like serious trouble.”
She grabbed the silver tray from behind the bar as the black-garbed Angus Blade stood and reached for his holster, and threw it across the bar room with a well practised aim, knocking Angus’s stetson off his head and temporarily stunning him at the same time.
Maverick deftly lifted Angus and threw him headfirst out through the double swinging doors into the bright and dusty afternoon sunshine, with Violet ‘gently’ escorting the other two out with a couple more cancan kicks each.
From the doors, Maverick shouted over to the bar, “I’ll see them out of town before heading back to the chapel”, as Nutmeg placed an overful glass down on the counter in front of Herbert.
“See you tomorrow, Father,” Nutmeg waved and smiled as she asked Herb, “So, have you never thought of using a nickname like Jake over there?”
It’s another Six Sentence Story, and this week, Denise has selected Yellowbelly as the prompt word.
The Mansionic Perspective 
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