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WISH YOU WERE THERE!
Jantallian
Holiday Snapshot 1
"Get a move on, will y'!" As the tall, fair-haired man hesitated on the steps of the unloading stage-coach, a battered carpet bag struck him with some force in the middle of the back. Caught by surprise, he staggered wildly and made a leap for the ground, landing with an almighty splash in one of the many deep, muddy puddles that decorated the road. Mud shot into the air and cascaded down on him in an unrelenting stream. It was a pity he had politely removed his hat during the journey and failed to replace it before this tsunami of liquid earth hit him.
"What did y' do that for?" the same voice enquired innocently.
The blonde drew a deep breath, reminded himself that he was in a public street and, in the most civilised tones he could manage – which wasn't very – said: "Someone pushed me."
"Y' just gettin' clumsy in y' old age." The dark-haired man jumped lightly to a patch of dry ground and turned politely to help the woman behind him. It was probably not necessary for him to carry her across to the boardwalk, but he did it anyway. She was very pretty. By the time he had deposited her safely, fetched her suitcase and bowed politely over her hand in farewell – although he rather thought that this might not be as permanent as it appeared – the first man had succeeded in wiping the mud from his eyes with what had once been a clean handkerchief.
The dark man retrieved the offending carpet bag and reached down his companion's from the roof of the coach as well. "I suppose I gotta carry this for you, seein' as y're drippin' mud everywhere?"
"Thanks." The fair-haired, or rather muddy-haired, one was unfailing polite, even in the most trying circumstances.
His companion surveyed him up and down with a mental grin which he disguised as a look of horrified distaste. "Y' need a Chinese laundry!"
"A what?"
"Laundry. Place where they wash things. Run by the Chinese. They're very efficient."
So are you! the blonde man thought, realising that this had probably all been a ploy to put him out of the running with the pretty woman. "I need a bath first," he said aloud.
"Ain't no hotel gonna let y' in lookin' like that," the other man stated truthfully. Then he relented a little. "Come on!"
"What … Where?" The mud-clad man's puzzled questions were lost as his companion forged ahead through the bustling crowds and disappeared suddenly down a narrow and dubious-looking alleyway. To add to his miseries, it was beginning to rain heavily – so much for sunny California! He hesitated briefly, then decided that he had nothing to lose. Actually he did. All his clothes.
Some ten minutes later he found himself sitting huddled in a scratchy blanket beside a tiny fire in an even tinier kitchen. He was not quite sure how he had got there or what was happening to his clothes, but his speculations were cut short when a tiny and very ancient Chinese woman silently deposited a bowl of hot water, soap and a clean towel on the table which occupied almost all of the space in the room. Then she bowed politely, hands folded in front of her, and backed silently out of the door.
The door quickly swung open again and his carpet bag landed on the table. "Get dressed. I'll go find us a hotel."
"But Jess –!"
Too late. The blonde man sighed, assured himself that he was indeed totally alone and began to comply with the instructions. This meant that he was unaware of the lively conversation taking place in the workroom of the laundry between the dark man and a young Chinese of about his own age. It was conducted in a mixture of broken English, very rudimentary and minimal Mandarin with a strong Texan accent, hand-signals and a great deal of shared experience. After a while, the Texan concluded: "Thanks, Wen. Tell y' pa I'm very grateful."
"Not problem, Jess – you welcome – alway!"
"I'll be back. Don't let him go runnin' off now! Understand?"
Wen nodded and the young man was gone. The Chinaman smiled as he caught the muttered comment that accompanied this swift exit: "Shouldn't have given him his clothes back, ain't goin' nowhere without clothes!"
The clotheless one, meanwhile, found a clean set in his bag and dressed slowly. He wondered if Chinese laundries always took the clothes off their customers' backs and filed this away in his tidy mind as a strange feature of life on the Barbary Coast.
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SS - JH
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"This is a hotel?"
"Kind of -" Jess Harper replied evasively.
Slim Sherman surveyed the room carefully - the ornately carved woodwork, the dark heavy furniture, the deep luxurious carpet and rich brocade curtains, not to mention the thickness of the mattress on the enormous bed.
"Are you sure?"
His companion sighed and nodded.
Slim continued his exploration. Opening the door of what he took to be a cupboard, he exclaimed in surprise: "Jess, there's a bath in here!"
The dark man ambled over and pushed him aside. He folded his arms and appeared to be giving the bath the kind of scrutiny that he would normally have accorded an opposing gunman.
"Yep. That's a bath," he stated after some moments' thought. It was possibly the size and degree of elaborate decoration that caused this reaction. On the other hand, it was quite likely that he was just teasing.
"Are you sure we can afford this?" Ever economical, the blonde one.
"We ain't payin'," the other reminded him. This was true in more ways than just the fact that they were on an all-expenses paid mission.
Slim thought some more. "There are a lot of ladies staying in this hotel."
"Guess that shows it's a safe one. We'll be able to sleep peacefully then." Jess's ironic grin was entirely lost on his companion.
"About that bath -"
"You sure could use one t' get rid of the rest o' that mud. Y' smell like year-old cabbage!"
"It'll take ages to fill."
Another grin. "Not in this hotel."
At that moment, there was a knock at the door and it opened to admit a whole phalanx of serving girls all carrying buckets of steaming water. In no time, the bath was filled and the room emptied.
"Enjoy y' bath. I'm goin' to play."
"Pay? Can't you add it to the bill?" Slim's question hung on empty air. Once again he was too late and Jess had disappeared. As the heavily carved mahogany door closed slowly behind him there was a crescendo of female voices, under which snatches of response in an unmistakable husky baritone could be distinguished: " - can do it himself ... I ain't havin' ... maybe, later! … An' gimme that spare key!"
Then there was some breathless giggling and the light clatter of footsteps dying away, followed by the sound of a key turning in the lock. When Slim wandered over and tried the door it was indeed locked. Hotel rooms got locked with the guests inside? He sighed and chalked all this up to another strange fact he was learning about life on the Barbary Coast.