Read Online Beginner's Luck by Len Levinson - Free Book Online Page A

padded toward the dining room. I should've been born a girl? He found The Titusville Tribune on the kitchen table, and the headline said:
    SOUTHERN PACIFIC RAILROAD
    SELECTS TITUSVILLE FOR NEW TERMINAL
    Duane read the story with mounting interest. According to unnamed authoritative sources, a majorrailroad would be coming to Titusville soon, bringing prosperity to everyone in the region. Potential investors were advised to buy land and build businesses without delay, before prices soared. There were statements from the mayor, president of the town council, and numerous civic leaders. This sounds like a city on the move, Duane thought. I'm in the right place at the right time. If only I had money to invest.
    He turned the page, and his eyes fell on a headline:
    IMMENSE CONFLAGRATION!
    A fire had killed several hundred people in Chicago, rendered ninety thousand homeless, and consumed two hundred million dollars in property. My God, thought Duane, reading forward as rapidly as his brain cells could assimilate information. The numbers staggered him. It was widely believed that the tragedy had begun in a barn.
    He continued eagerly to peruse the paper, gleaning facts about shipwrecks, wars, plagues, and injustice in every corner of the globe. It shocked him, for he'd been sheltered from the vagaries of the secular world. Maybe I should become a priest after all, he speculated. A straw mattress isn't so bad, and I can live without women, can't I?
    â€œGood morning, Duane.”
    Titusville's foremost celebrity walked stiffly into the dining room, smoking her first cigarette of the day, wearing an ankle-length pale violet gown, her long blond hair pulled back and tied with a ribbon. She was sleepy-eyed, pale, and carrying a pot of coffee. Annabelle followed with a platter of ham, eggs, grits,and freshly made corn muffins. Annabelle placed the food on the table, and Vanessa sat opposite Duane, crossing her legs.
    Duane scrutinized the woman of his dreams after she got up in the morning, and she was glorious with her pale, almost translucent skin.
    â€œIt's not polite to stare at a woman in the morning,” she said. “Have some coffee.”
    She poured black steaming liquid into his cup, and he noticed the fine bone structure of her hand. She appeared even slimmer and more fragile in the light, and then she coughed, touching her hand to her breast.
    Duane brought his eyes to that portion of her anatomy. She wasn't large-bosomed like some of the Mexican girls who'd come to the monastery, but she wasn't deprived by any means, and Duane wondered what it would be like to rest his head between those delicious fruits.
    Meanwhile, she glanced at him while he sipped his coffee, and was surprised by how mature he appeared in his new clothing. In the bright daylight, he didn't appear quite so cherubic. This is more man than boy, she realized. She perceived a trace of cruelty around his eyes, and maybe a glint of madness, too.
    â€œThanks for the duds,” he said. “I shouldn't have any trouble getting a job dressed like this.”
    â€œAnnabelle didn't buy boots or a hat, because we don't know your size. When you finish breakfast, you can go to town and pick them out yourself. Just tell the man to put them on my account.”
    Duane was stunned. “You mean I can buy a real cowboy hat, and real cowboy boots?”

    â€œThat's what you'll need if you're going to be a cowboy.
    â€œBut I don't know how to ride a horse!”
    â€œThen we'll have to arrange lessons, won't we?”
    â€œI can't afford riding lessons. First I'll have to get a job.”
    â€œYou can pay me back later. I don't want you emptying cuspidors in one of those filthy damned saloons. Somebody's liable to shoot you for the fun of it.”
    She handed him a platter with four eggs, a slab of ham, and a stack of grits. It appeared a princely feast to one who'd eaten mainly tortillas and beans for the past seventeen years. Without a word,