Read Online Two-Gun & Sun by June Hutton - Free Book Online Page B

But no man seemed to have time for hunting and fishing. The only creatures that ran wild around here were the pigs. If I were to propose a viable enterprise for the town, an alternative to mining, it would be fresh game. Everyone seemed too busy with what lay below the ground to wonder what roamed above it.
    The waiter swung through the double doors, smiling, a white flash of teeth in a black face.
Mademoiselle
, he said, as though I weren’t dressed like a plumber. Marcel, at your service. And then he bowed.
    I stared, though Parker had described him already. I was transfixed by the health of his complexion. No green.
    I introduced myself, name, first, occupation, second. I won’t stay, I told him. I just need a dinner to take to my room.
    He gestured around him. We get
beaucoup des
gentlemen, he said,
mais les femmes, les femmes—
and then he clapped a hand over his heart in a gesture worthy of Vincent’s friend Morris. So beautiful, he added.
    Hardly. I swept a hand across my coveralls. Another time.
    He bowed again.
    What do you recommend?
    Crawfish boil. Escargot, perhaps. The best of the French Quarter.
    I laughed. How long have you been here? I asked.
    A few weeks.
    I nodded with satisfaction. Another year here and his skin would turn dull as the others from lack of light.
    Anything? I asked, and held up the tired menu.
    He folded his white cotton arms, planted a chin in a palm, ruefully. Tinned chicken. Or tinned sardines. Peas and custard.
    From a tin as well? I sighed. Chicken, I said, and then in my best French accent,
merci,
Marcel.
    Alone now, I studied the hollow room. High up, the most unusual chandelier, the only adornment in the room. I tilted my head. Made of glass like radio tubes, like upside down canning jars. There was so much to note here, almost nothing that wasn’t news to me. But to the town? Maybe not.
    A man at a side table caught my eye. San Francisco, again. I nodded and he nodded back. To avoid more eye contact and the possibility, though unlikely, now, of him asking to join me, I fished a notebook from my pocket and busied myself writing my observations.
    A tweed suit moved toward San Francisco’s table, the dour Scotsman, his walrus mustache pulling his mouth into a frown.
    Frisco had the ideas but it would be the Scot who’d finance them. That could be a story, and when it was I’d get their real names. They must be in the ledger.
    The bar patron had either roused himself, or Ed had kicked him out after I left. He shuffled into the room and stood reeling by the window. With his head held up, now, I could see the features that Parker had described: greasy bars of hair that had been plastered over his bald head had sprung loose and now dangled over his nose. I wasn’t surprised he’d been fired, given what I’d seen of the man. Drunk, on both occasions. It was clear to me now that he was the same man who had sprayed into the street.
    Morris strolled into the dining room, bright in his white suit that appeared to have been cleaned already, his gruff voice shouting greetings. I sat up, smiled and waved. He waved back, could see plain enough that I was sitting alone, yet he took his time to join me.
    Have you another engagement?
    Not at all, just taking in the sights. May I, Miss Sullivan? and at last he pulled out a chair, and sat.
    Sinclair, I corrected. Lila.
    And I leaned forward, impatient. Tell me, I said, what do you know about this Vincent Cruz?
    As soon as I spoke, I realized I had asked much the same of the printer about Morris.
    A good printer and a good cook. Learned his way around a kitchen from his father.
    I mean the man, himself. Is he dangerous?
    Vincent?
    I saw him carrying something. Like a rifle. I’m not sure. It was wrapped up in a parcel.
    Morris leaned back in his chair, studying me. He doesn’t suffer fools gladly, he said.
    And this leader, Sun. When do you plan to meet him?
    Meet?
    He shot forward in his chair.
    Oh, yes.