Read Online On the Trail to Moonlight Gulch by Shelter Somerset - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Shelter Somerset
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seemed to know his way around the streets. Perhaps he traveled to Chicago often for business. How might Tory shake him?
With Joseph, life had evolved into a dream. But this man, like the two boarders Tory had been with, like the others he’d met at the cabaret, had never sought a lasting relationship with other men. He had a wife. Tory knew for sure now by the ring displayed on his finger. His face showed he was about thirty. He most likely had a handful of children.
They stopped at a traffic signal.
“My name is Calvin. Calvin McGregor.” He held out his hand. Tory ignored it. “I’m from Ellicott City, Maryland. I’m a salesman for a fabric manufacturer there. We make sails and tents and other things of that sort.”
Tory kept quiet.
“Are you from Chicago? You don’t need to answer. I can tell you are. Chicagoans have a unique quality about them. Nothing seems to faze you.” The man chortled. “I do believe I could have horns growing out of my head and you’d still not flinch.”
Tory could not help but inwardly grin at his comment. He’d often heard the same appraisal of Chicagoans. Changes came so quickly to them that few cared about the many differences that surrounded them. People came from literally every corner of the world and each of the states. None were outsiders because they all were. A city with a tough temperament, he’d heard some proclaim.
“What is it you do here…?” The man was fishing for his name.
Warming to him despite his better judgment, Tory muttered, “Torsten,” but he held back providing his family name.
“Torsten. That’s a good name. Do you attend school in Chicago, Torsten?”
“No,” Tory said, his mouth firm. “I work for my family.”
“A family business. A good thing. So much more secure. I have four daughters, so I won’t be able to hope for a son following in my footsteps, will I? I suppose perhaps I could interest one of their future husbands to go into the fabric business with me. Do you think?”
Tory noted an East Coast habit: phrasing an opinion in the form of a question. Joseph had spoken in that fashion. Emptiness bit into his gut. He should have known better than to venture into the cabaret seeking strangers. Such men only exacerbated his heartache and lonesomeness. An evening out had not soothed the pain the way he had hoped.
“I’m here in Chicago digging for clients,” the man went on. “Chicago is the fastest-growing city in the country—in the world. So much opportunity is here. My wife isn’t happy I scheduled my trip over Easter. She’s more into fussing over the children and the holidays than I am.”
They stopped at another intersection. The crowd, thinner than usual due to the holiday, pushed against the crosswalk.
“I’m staying at a nearby hotel,” the man went on. “I was lucky to get a room. Often when I’m in Chicago I have to find lodging at a boarding house. I suppose it might have something to do with the holiday. Fewer people travel away from home.”
They waited for the policeman to blow the whistle, indicating they could cross.
“Would you like to have a drink up in my hotel room to get away from these grimy streets?” Calvin McGregor asked. “My eyes are burning from all this dust and smoke. And the crowd can be overwhelming.”
On the other side of the street, Tory slowed his pace and glanced at the man. Life seemed odd to him. Odd, and painfully short. Disregarding any other thoughts, he followed the man down a side street and into a hotel lobby.
“I HOPE I didn’t hurt you.”
Tory was dressing slowly but purposefully. He and Calvin McGregor had finished what Tory classified as sex: quick and passionless. Empty. The Marylander was obviously inexperienced with men. Tory had had to instruct him. Even after that, he’d pinched and grabbed like a clumsy, unsure oaf. Yet he had been driven to completion.
“No, you didn’t hurt me,” Tory said, his eyes on buttoning his shirt.
“Can we
With Joseph, life had evolved into a dream. But this man, like the two boarders Tory had been with, like the others he’d met at the cabaret, had never sought a lasting relationship with other men. He had a wife. Tory knew for sure now by the ring displayed on his finger. His face showed he was about thirty. He most likely had a handful of children.
They stopped at a traffic signal.
“My name is Calvin. Calvin McGregor.” He held out his hand. Tory ignored it. “I’m from Ellicott City, Maryland. I’m a salesman for a fabric manufacturer there. We make sails and tents and other things of that sort.”
Tory kept quiet.
“Are you from Chicago? You don’t need to answer. I can tell you are. Chicagoans have a unique quality about them. Nothing seems to faze you.” The man chortled. “I do believe I could have horns growing out of my head and you’d still not flinch.”
Tory could not help but inwardly grin at his comment. He’d often heard the same appraisal of Chicagoans. Changes came so quickly to them that few cared about the many differences that surrounded them. People came from literally every corner of the world and each of the states. None were outsiders because they all were. A city with a tough temperament, he’d heard some proclaim.
“What is it you do here…?” The man was fishing for his name.
Warming to him despite his better judgment, Tory muttered, “Torsten,” but he held back providing his family name.
“Torsten. That’s a good name. Do you attend school in Chicago, Torsten?”
“No,” Tory said, his mouth firm. “I work for my family.”
“A family business. A good thing. So much more secure. I have four daughters, so I won’t be able to hope for a son following in my footsteps, will I? I suppose perhaps I could interest one of their future husbands to go into the fabric business with me. Do you think?”
Tory noted an East Coast habit: phrasing an opinion in the form of a question. Joseph had spoken in that fashion. Emptiness bit into his gut. He should have known better than to venture into the cabaret seeking strangers. Such men only exacerbated his heartache and lonesomeness. An evening out had not soothed the pain the way he had hoped.
“I’m here in Chicago digging for clients,” the man went on. “Chicago is the fastest-growing city in the country—in the world. So much opportunity is here. My wife isn’t happy I scheduled my trip over Easter. She’s more into fussing over the children and the holidays than I am.”
They stopped at another intersection. The crowd, thinner than usual due to the holiday, pushed against the crosswalk.
“I’m staying at a nearby hotel,” the man went on. “I was lucky to get a room. Often when I’m in Chicago I have to find lodging at a boarding house. I suppose it might have something to do with the holiday. Fewer people travel away from home.”
They waited for the policeman to blow the whistle, indicating they could cross.
“Would you like to have a drink up in my hotel room to get away from these grimy streets?” Calvin McGregor asked. “My eyes are burning from all this dust and smoke. And the crowd can be overwhelming.”
On the other side of the street, Tory slowed his pace and glanced at the man. Life seemed odd to him. Odd, and painfully short. Disregarding any other thoughts, he followed the man down a side street and into a hotel lobby.
“I HOPE I didn’t hurt you.”
Tory was dressing slowly but purposefully. He and Calvin McGregor had finished what Tory classified as sex: quick and passionless. Empty. The Marylander was obviously inexperienced with men. Tory had had to instruct him. Even after that, he’d pinched and grabbed like a clumsy, unsure oaf. Yet he had been driven to completion.
“No, you didn’t hurt me,” Tory said, his eyes on buttoning his shirt.
“Can we
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