John aimed for two men on a ladder adjusting the station sign. "Excuse me?" They did not seem to hear him so he tried again. "Excuse me?"

One of the men looked down, "What?"

"Where's a good hotel?"

"Try the Palmer House in Chicago."

John gaped a little as the man turned back to the sign before shrugging and walking off. He got ten feet before trying to talk to a woman examining something under the shade of a storefront overhang. She, like the man on the ladder, rebuffed him. Grabbing her child's hand she practically scampered away rather than talk to the man holding his case.

He set it down, frowning before eyeing the town before him. Someone tapped his shoulder and he turned to see the storeowner. "Yes?"

"Don't bother."

"Don't bother what?"

"Don't bother trying to talk to anyone." The man gestured vaguely to the people traveling around town. "No one here wants you to stay and they'll do nothing to endear themselves to you in the hopes you leave faster."

"Is that town policy?"

"It's the way it is."

"Is it?" John raised an eyebrow, "Seems inhospitable."

"There's nothing halfway about the Iowa way to treat you… when they treat you… which we may not do at all."

"And that includes conversation?"

"It includes everything."

"Then why are you talking to me?" John looked around, "If everyone here is as prickly as you say why are you chatting with me."

"Because I hope you buy something." The man gestured to his store and John nodded in understanding. "It's buy one get one half off on the fruit."

"Is it going over?"

"It's not at its best." The man confided but John dug in his pocket for a bit of change all the same. "Good luck in your next town."

"What if I want to stay in this town?" John pressed but the man already moved to ignore him like the others. "What an interesting place."

Picking up his bag he made his way across the street, just missing being hit by a buggy. He lifted his hat, as the man driving glared at him, and continued across the street. Landing on the boards that composed the makeshift pavement, he noted the way two women made a show of not staring at him.

John smiled, doffing his hat, and walked over to them. "Good morning ladies."

"It is if you don't mind sweating through all your clothing." The woman grabbed the other by the hand and pulled her away from him.

John set down his bag, scratching at his head, and squinted back at the street. Everyone avoided eye contact with him or made a show of being very busy at whatever small task they could take into their hands in a moment. He sucked the inside of his cheek, shrugging to himself as he picked up his bag again, and continued walking toward what looked like a guesthouse.

Opening the door he pushed in, noting a man at the desk tallying something in a ledger. John set his bag down under the counter and cleared his throat. The man looked up at him, smiling.

"Good morning sir, how can I help you?"

"You could tell me if you have any rooms." John raised a hand, "And please don't say there are nice rooms in Chicago."

"Man at the station already told you about the Palmer House?" The man at the front desk cringed, "He's not the politest of fellows. Treated me with an unprecedented vitriol when I came to town."

John pointed at the man, narrowing his eyes, "You look very familiar to me."

"I've been all over and, judging by your suit, you have too."

Snapping his fingers, John smiled, "Henry Talbot. You were selling cars out of that factory in Detroit."

Talbot frowned and then his eyes widened. "John Bates, as I live and breathe." He stuck his hand forward and John heartily shook it. "I didn't think they'd let you out of that little hole they tossed you in."

"Eventually even the innocent get a reprieve from their prison sentence." John cracked his neck, "It was overturned when they found the guilty party."

"What a way to talk about your wife."

"Ex-wife."

"Congratulations." Talbot checked his ledger, "For that I'm putting you in a room close to the bath."

"That's very kind of you." John grabbed his case as Talbot took a key off the rack and came around the counter to lead John up the stairs. 'What brought you here?"

"After they got you in Detroit I decided salesmanship wasn't really my thing."

"So you stumble into sleepy Iowa?" John gestured around them, "I'm convinced they're ten years behind."

"And may they ever be so." Talbot unlocked a door, "Keeps this place nice and quiet, which I discovered I like a lot so I'm not overly upset by it."

"No more excitement for you?"

"There's nothing more exciting then trying to woo a woman John, surely you remember." Talbot bit back his laugh, "Unless it's been too long for you."

"Don't worry about me." John took a turn around the room before nodding, "This suits me just fine. Out of the way and small."

"It's reflected in the daily billing." Talbot leaned on the doorframe, "How long are you staying?"

"Depends on how long it takes to get your town out of the serious trouble it's in." John winked, setting his case on the bed and popping the latches.

"Downton's not in any trouble." Talbot sighed. "These people are more stubborn than a mule, will stand touching noses for a week without seeing eye-to-eye, invite you to a picnic where you're welcome to all the food you brought for yourself, and be colder than a falling thermometer in December if you mention the humidity but they're not in trouble."

"You're going to tell me this town couldn't bear to shake a bit given what you just said?"

Talbot laughed, "They're simple people, sure, and the biggest thing they've got in town are the billiard tables but they're good people John."

"And I'm not good people?"

"You're not ready for them. The suspicion of anyone from the outside is bred into them from birth. They've got chips on their shoulder larger than the swath the Mississippi cuts through America to match it too."

"I thought you said they were good people."

"They're the kind of people who wont' spare you a second thought without needing to but they'd give you the shirt off their back if you needed it and walk home in their underclothes." Talbot stared into the distance, a bit whimsical. "It's a lovely place."

"I can make it more lovely."

"They don't need your-" Talbot stopped, "What are you selling now?"

"Same as I was before."

Talbot guffawed, "They definitely don't need a boy's band."

"Everyone needs a band."

"Not these kids. They can barely manage a tune to whistle. How're they going to get their lips around a tuba or heaven forbid the details of a clarinet?"

"What about the girls?"

"Now you've just talked yourself into a corner."

John stored his case under the bed and folded his arms over his chest, "How so?"

"Because the people here won't like you because you're a stranger. Second, they won't trust you to instruct their sons. Third, they won't let you near their daughters unless they've got a shotgun trained on you at all times."

"Sounds exciting."

"I'm serious John, as your friend, you need to move on to the next town."

"Won't all of Iowa be the same?"

"No, some of it is downright pleasant. Try Dubuque, Davenport, Marshalltown, Mason City, Keokuk, even Clear Lake but not here. Not Downton."

"Now Henry," John put his hand down on Talbot's shoulder. "All you've down is convince me I have to stay here. Get this town out of the serious trouble it's in."

"They're not in trouble, I told you."

"Then I've got to create some. Give them a need for a boy's band." John shuddered, "If only to get some life pumping into them. They're downright dreary."

"They're people of the land."

"That's no excuse."

"They've every excuse John."

"Henry," John took the key to his room from the other man's hand. "You've lost your sense of adventure."

"No, I simply got wiser than you did." Talbot pointed his finger in John's face. "Don't think I don't remember all the close calls I had hustling for you."

"Don't say hustle, makes it seem like what I do is trick people into things."

"If you were an illusionist you couldn't be taking these people for more money." Talbot followed John down the stairs. "I won't let you ruin this town for me."

John paused, turning back up the stairs toward Talbot, "Is there something I should know?"

Talbot shuffled in place, "I told you I met a girl."

"Is it serious?"

"I think so."

"Does she think so?"

Talbot sighed, pushing past John, "That's not the point. She's a land manager."

"You don't aim high at all do you?" John leaned on the counter as Talbot returned to the ledger. "How'd you meet her?"

"The same way any man meets a woman in this town. I went to church."

"Protestants?"

"Episcopalians." Talbot shrugged, "It's all the same to me. I'm Anglican but here it isn't the same."

"Less grander?"

"Hard not to think that way when the church is built of wood and a single room." Talbot shrugged, "Gets bloody hot in the summer but we sweat out the heat for the picnics where they serve lemonade and homemade ice cream."

"Chances to chat up your woman?" John winked at Talbot's line of red around the collar. "You've never been this sweet on anyone. Not even when you had that mechanic… what was her name?"

"Audrey Ramirez."

"She was sassy."

"So is Mary."

John smiled, "So your paramour has a name."

"Everyone does."

"But you hadn't told me what it was." John turned to the door, "I think I'm going to get myself acquainted with town a bit. Care to join me?"

"I'm manning the books here until noon."

"Alright then tell me where I could find enough breakfast to tide me over for a few hours."

Talbot pointed across the street, "Mrs. Patmore's. In the afternoon's it's a soda fountain but she's proud of her breakfasts. Makes a thing of them."

"Good?"

"If not for lack of money and strict necessity, I'd eat there for every meal." Talbot nodded, "Go on. Endear yourself to her and a lot of things in town'll be a lot easier."

John tapped the counter and headed across the street. He tipped his hat at a ginger-haired woman, who smiled at him but kept walking, and dodged a blonde-haired man jogging to keep pace with the woman. With a hop he landed on the boardwalk and took the few steps to enter Mrs. Patmore's establishment.

The bell over the door jangled and a brunette-haired girl hurried out from the back. John smiled at her but she immediately dropped her eyes to the floor and rattled off something John could not catch. Smiling to cover his awkwardness he stepped forward. "Could you repeat that?"

The girl squeaked and ran back to the kitchen. His mouth hanging toward the floor, John tried to understand what just happened. He pivoted in place, the tiny dinning room empty, and scratched at his head in confusion.

"Excuse Daisy." John turned to face a smaller, more rotund, woman with a curly thatch of orange hair peeking out of her cap. "She's easily excitable and thought you looked a bit intimidating."

"Not my intention but not the first time it's happened."

"I imagine someone like you gets that a lot." The woman eyed him up and down. "Army are you?"

"I was, for a time."

"But for now you're hungry." The woman held out her hand, "I'm Mrs. Patmore."

"John Bates, and you're possibly the friendliest person I've yet encountered since I came to this town."

"It's a small place where people keep to themselves, that's for sure." She took her hand back, "What can I get you?"

"Your special and whatever else you think I'd need to convince me to only ever breakfast here." John pointed to a table, "Is this fine?"

"Take any seat you want with a request like that." She almost turned to make her way into the kitchen before heaving a sigh. "There she blows."

John held the back of his chair to get a view through the window of an old woman, leaning determinedly on a cane he was sure could be used to beat off offending preachers or townsfolk, marching down the street. "Who?"

"The mayor's mother. She's got a bee in her bonnet about something, make no mistake about that." Mrs. Patmore shuddered, "I'd hate to see who made the mistake of getting in her sights."

John swallowed, "I think so too."