Page 45 of Taming Lady Temperance

And you will surely win the day.

“Happy day! Happy day! When drinking times are done away.

Come sign our pledge without delay,

And live rejoicing every day.

Happy day! Happy day! When drinking times are done away.

“The children, too, will take a part,

And join our cause with hand and heart,

And help to send strong drink away,

So shall we surely win the day.”

The chorus began again, and a few spectators joined in the song. At least the parts they recognized from church. Things could not be going better, and James thanked God for working things out for good for Noreen despite the couple of hiccups she encountered earlier this afternoon. As they turned down Main Street, however, James hurried his step to move ahead of the parade, determined to head off any trouble that might be brewing down the road. The Salt Fork Saloon stood only a block and a half away, and even from here, James could see a group of men gathered in front of the building. Praying they didn’t intend anything too menacing, he broke into a jog to scout out the hostile territory.

It seemed the half-price drinks came with a catch. Taggert had propped his batwing doors open and set up a temporary bar directly inside the doorway. Chairs lined the boardwalk against the walls on both sides of the entrance, most filled with men holding pints in one hand and signs in the other. Signs that read, My Money, My Choice; Jesus Drank Wine; and Wet Whistles Make Jolly Gents.

“Hey, Paxton? You here for a drink?” Taggert grinned at him from behind the table he’d dragged against his doorway. “Beer’s half price till six.”

A hurrah erupted from the men gathered in front of the Salt Fork, followed by the clinking of glasses. Taggert smirked.

“No, thanks.” James kept his demeanor calm and friendly. “Interesting setup you got here.”

Taggert shrugged, his eyes glittering with cockiness. “Didn’t want the fellas to miss the parade, so I decided to offer outdoor seating.”

“Along with printed commentary, I see.” James picked up a sign that had been leaning against the wall to the left of the door. “‘Eat, drink, and be merry’?”

“What?” Taggert widened his eyes in mock innocence. “It’s in the Bible. Thought all those self-righteous temperance folk liked spouting Scripture.” His expression hardened. “I got just as much right to promote my views on the issue as they do.” He nodded toward the approaching parade.

Noreen and her band had reached the billiard hall and were closing in on the saloon.

James turned back to Taggert, a note of warning creeping into his voice. “You’re right about your freedom of speech, but I expect you to keep things civil. If any of your patrons gets out of hand, I’ll shut down this little outdoor operation of yours and cite each man here for public intoxication. Are we clear?”

“You hear that, boys?” Taggert raised his voice to a near shout as his glare bored a hole in James’s forehead. “The deputy here wants us to keep things civil. I say we welcome our parading friends with a cheerful song.”

The patriotic sound of “America” echoed from the temperance band as Noreen and her group marched onto the scene.

“Here let poor drunkards come,

We’ll burst their chains from rum—”

A loud, discordant harmonica overpowered the approaching voices and instigated an off-key rendition of “Old Dan Tucker” among the boardwalk throng.

“Old Dan Tucker was a fine old man

He washed his face in a frying pan

He combed his hair with a wagon wheel

And died of a toothache in his heel.”

What Taggert’s band lacked in musicality, they made up in enthusiasm. They belted the old folk song at the top of their lungs. A pair of grizzled fellas even decided to dance along, linking elbows and kicking up heels as boots stomped and hands clapped.

James had to give Taggert credit. The man had done his homework. Not only had he anticipated the tactics Noreen would use, he’d turned them against her. James had faith in Noreen, though. If she could manage to keep Taggert from crawling under her skin, she’d come out on top. He’d be keeping a close eye on these whiskery saloon singers, though. Drink could both embolden a man and dim his wits, a dangerous combination when one hoped to keep the peace.