Read Online 1931 The Grand Punk Railroad: Local by Ryohgo Narita - Free Book Online

while passengers from the third-class compartments ate, they too could feel like kings. This was one of the things that made the train popular.
    Rows of tables took up half the dining car, while the other half held a kitchen and counter seats. Several cooks bustled around busily in the kitchen, making maximum use of the small space to create rich flavors and fragrances.
    All sorts of food—from French dishes and Chinese cuisine to the Creole specialty jambalaya—were lined up on the tables, boldly asserting themselves.
    While people were engrossed in the food, there was one group of men who hadn’t gotten involved with the meal.
    “Look, I’m telling you, this isn’t the place for this conversation. You understand, Jacuzzi. We got customers here.”
    “He’s right, Jacuzzi. I know you get it. And actually: Get it.”
    At a counter seat in the dining car, two men were reproaching Jacuzzi. They were behind the counter; one was dressed as a cook, while the other was dressed as a bartender.
    The cook was an Asian man, and the bartender was a young Irish guy. Both were Jacuzzi’s friends, and the informants who had turned him on to this freight robbery.
    “No, um, I know, I know, I really do know. It’s just like you say, Fang and Jon. But listen, it wasn’t okay when I came by this evening, either, so I was wondering when we’d be able to talk…”
    The Asian man was Fang, and the Irishman’s name was Jon. A duo consisting of a Chinese immigrant and an Irish one. According to the common sense of the day, it was an impossible combination.
    Both men were rogues who’d caused trouble in their immigrant communities.
    Jacuzzi had indiscriminately adopted people like these as companions, and before he knew it, he’d become the central figure of a gang of delinquents. It wasn’t as though he’d wanted to be the boss, but Jon and Fang and his other friends never objected to it. That said, they didn’t show him any particular respect, either.
    “Well, there’s no help for it. There are always customers in here. Plus, there are people who keep ordering Chinese, so I can’t get away. If I leave, the kitchen chief’s gonna kill me.”
    As he spoke, Fang heaved a sigh. As if in response, Jon gave a big sigh, too.
    “I’m the only bartender here, and as long as there’s someone in the counter seats, I can’t leave, either. Show some understanding.”
    “Waaah… Does this train ignore Prohibition entirely?”
    “Normally, yeah. We’re completely dry today, though. Today’s conductor is really strict about laws.”
    “Then there’s no work for a bartender, is there?”
    At Jacuzzi’s question, Jon shook his head slightly.
    “That couple’s been ordering nothing but honey green tea for a while now. All they order are nonalcoholic drinks with honey. Just give up.”
    “Nn.
Those
customers. The ones who’ve been camped here since right after departure, ordering nothing but Chinese food.”
    As Fang spoke, he gestured with his jaw toward the end of the counter.
    Jacuzzi looked that way. A strange couple was sitting there.
    In a word, the man was a Western gunman. He wore an old-fashioned vest and coat, and there were several holsters strapped to his waist and chest. However, not one of them held a gun. He carried a lasso on his back, too, so it was hard to tell whether he was a gunman or a cowboy. On top of that, for some reason, he wore three sheriff’s badges.
    As if to match the man’s costume, the woman was also dressed like someone out of a Western: She looked like a saloon dancing girl from a hundred years ago. Her hair was straight, and she wore a red, Spanish-style dancing costume and a bright-red, broad-brimmed hat.
    The two of them suited the atmosphere of their location, but they seemed far removed from the atmosphere of the era. The couple was creating their own unique world at the corner of the counter.
    “Or do you want to go run them off for us, Jacuzzi?”
    “I-I’m kinda scared. What if