Joel carefully rolled up his sleeves, whistling to himself as he moved with practiced ease about his shop. The sun was shining through the dusty windows, he had already had four customers that day with cash in hand rather than vague promises as payment, and one of the most talkative men in Reaper's Gulch was currently sitting before him waiting for a shave. In short, life was grand. If he loved anything more than cash upfront, it was free scuttlebutt and gossip.
"You know anything about that Nate Tucker fellow?” The customer in the chair managed to make out, speaking gingerly so as not to disturb the thick layer of foam spread evenly across his cheeks and around his mouth.
"Yes," Joel answered promptly, giving his razor one last flick over the whetstone. "He's been quite the busy fellow, from what I can gather. Think I spotted him at the saloon twice last week. Seems to have more money than sense, judging from his performance at the tables, though he was cutting a swell with the ladies."
"That's the one," the man mumbled as he tilted his head back against the headrest, relaxing further into the leather chair and crossing his ankles. “According to my brother he's in town visiting a cousin... Henry Collins or Collings or something. But no one has made heads or tails of what he's really doing here, unless it really is just a family visit."
Joel's eyes lit up at this latest piece of news. Digesting it with interest, he bent over the chair and slowly dragged the razor in a confident upwards motion over the man's cheek, his hand steady and sure. The silver gleamed in the afternoon light, and he felt a twinge of proprietary pride at the sight before adjusting his arm and repeating the motion at a different angle.
"I've head about him right enough," Joel answered with a hint of authority, pleased that he had recognized the name. "But I wouldn't have thought he'd have a relation who played so lose with his purse strings. Henry's flush, but he's always so tightfisted about spending his money." His normal cheerful tones disappeared at that last bit, he practically grumbled this information aloud. It was like herding cats, trying to get Henry Collins into his shop for anything more than a semiannual trim. All that money, and the man couldn't even see the value in a daily shave. It would never stop rankling Joel, who earned so much less yet seemed to enjoy himself so much more.
"All set then," Joel announced a few moments later, stepping back and surveying his customer's face with pride. After money and gossip, a job well done ranked high on his list. He swept the broadcloth smock away with an almost dramatic flourish, shaking it out in preparation for his next customer that day. Politely walking the man to the door, he leaned against the frame for a moment after his customer departed, enjoying the fresh air and watching people as they strolled importantly about their business down the main street.