The warm, robust aroma of coffee percolating on the old, cast iron stove filled the main room of Thebes' small train station, but allowing it to perk any longer would mean a ruined pot. Rufus jumped from his notes-taking position next to the telegraph and almost bumped into Frank as he rounded the old man's table, giving the stove and his coffee the moment's priority. Frank grumbled and smoothed out his copy of The Rocky Mountain News, which had been folded over once by the wind gust from Rufus's mad dash for caffeine.
"That's your second pot," noted Frank, a touch carping. "At this rate you'll be made of coffee. 'Sides, ain't you s'posed to be a tea drinker?"
Rufus's only reply to Frank's obvious poke at his heritage was to chuckle. He carefully moved the pot from the stove to a hot pad on the nearby console table and went back to where he had been working to grab his mug. Frank peered over the top of his paper and eyeballed Rufus as he passed by once again. He cleared his throat to grab the veteran's attention. Rufus stopped in his tracks right beside the old man and waited for him to speak up.
Frank shifted his eyes to Rufus and reached for something on the table next to where his feet were propped up. With a casual sniff Frank produced his own mug from behind the paper and waved it at Rufus. "Pour me a cup, too, wouldja?"
Rufus tried not to appear indignant. He hooked the handle of Frank's mug with his thumb, now feeling something like a cross between a waiter and a mug rack. He hesitated before returning to the coffee pot, urging an explanation from Frank by tapping a foot. The old man finally looked up from his paper.
"What?" asked Frank, feigning ignorance. "Well, go on. It ain't gettin' warmer just sittin' there."
Rufus let out a snort. "That's it?"
Frank shook his paper once as he thumbed a page, turned it and replied, "I can't have you drinkin' that whole pot, can I? The last thing the station needs is a clerk who's hoppin' around like a jackrabbit come springtime. We got important people arrivin' today, you know."
The old man had a point, but Rufus wasn't drinking coffee by the gallons for the pure sport of it. "Sorry," he apologized as he set the mugs on the console table and picked up the pot. "I didn't get much sleep last night. Black?" he asked while pouring Frank's cup. He saw the station manager's head bob as a reply. Finished with preparing both drinks, Rufus set them on Frank's table and took the chair opposite his coworker. Frank sat up, folded his paper and picked up his mug.
"So what's this about not sleepin'? Oh, is it the war? Forget I asked."
"No, no," Rufus dismissed, "it wasn't that at all." He took a careful sip of his coffee while he pondered bringing up the late night motorcade through town. He set his mug down and tapped his fingers on it, letting his contemplation of last night's events break the conversation.
"Boy," Frank laughed finally, "I ain't seen you so lost in thought. Maybe you do need the extra caffeine today."
Rufus nodded. "It's probably nothing, but I keep getting woken up at the same time every night. There are these cars, four of them..." he paused, noting Frank leaning closer to him and fidgeting with the handle of his mug. "You know about this?"
"What?" Frank startled, sitting back in his chair and suddenly coughing. "No, no. Go on. Four cars?"
"Yes." Rufus left it at that to watch Frank a bit more.
The old man grew nervous from Rufus's staring and couldn't hold his left leg still. "Is there somethin' on my face? Quit lookin' at me like that," demanded Frank as his leg shook.
"So what is it?" Rufus asked with a piercing glare. "What's going on at 10 o'clock and then again in the early morning?"
Frank squirmed slightly, but did not concede. "You sure you weren't no interrogator in the Army?"
Rufus, laughing, was about to reply, but the front door's bell rang, prompting the two men to quickly straighten up the room and wait for the impending guest or guests to make their way to the counter. Near the end of their tidying, Frank looked once into the lobby, smirked and turned towards Rufus, gesturing for him to take over duties at the counter's window. Rufus glowered, tired of having most of the station's work handed to him.
"I'm not even working the counter today," he complained.
Frank continued with his peculiar grin. "Just get over there. You'll thank me later."
Rufus was doubtful, but assumed the old man's place at the window, anyway. He was still busy giving Frank a dirty look as he put his hand on the counter. He shook his head as he finally turned around, but nearly jumped out of his shoes as the sight of Kay Frumoldus on the other side.
"Kay?" blurted Rufus, his eyes initially round as saucers. He quickly tried to compose himself, rubbing a hand down his face, as if to wipe away his startled expression.
Kay returned the look of surprise, but not because she wasn't expecting to see Rufus. "Oh, dear. Did I surprise you? I'm so sorry," she apologized, holding her velvet-gloved hands to her chest.
Rufus quickly backtracked. "No, you're fine. Don't worry. I mean, yes, this is a surprise, but it's a good one, really!" He ran his hand through his light brown hair, attempting to get as much of it out of his face as possible. He tried flashing Kay a friendly grin, but without time to prepare for her sudden arrival, he figured it probably looked more awkward than inviting. Still, she smiled back, rather sweetly, too, Rufus noted, unlike her affected mannerisms of the previous day.
She looked like she stepped out of a page of the latest Vogue issue, too, with her fur-trimmed coat and matching muff, velvet gloves and elaborate hat, all in dark plum, which complemented her pale skin and scarlet hair perfectly. Rufus wondered if he really was looking at the same woman he met yesterday; that is, until her smile traded places with a more serious expression.
"What is it?" she demanded, giving herself a once-over. "Is something wrong with me?"
"Of course not!" Rufus quickly reassured her. "You're quite the opposite of 'wrong' right now." He took in a deep breath and turned around to Frank. With a small head nod, he silently asked the old man if he was relieved in order to join Kay in the lobby.
"Oh, go on," grumbled Frank. "Just be sure to mark on your time card when you spent chasin' a skirt, so I know how much to pay you this week." Rufus ignored Frank's teasing, patted the old man on the shoulder and gave him a 'thanks' as he opened the door separating the ticket counter and the lobby. Frank didn't miss an opportunity, and with the door wide open, he called back to his younger employee, "I thought you said she was too young!"
Rufus went pale as he shut the door and hoped Kay heard none of the old codger's shouting. She looked a bit confused, furrowing her brow and shrugging her shoulders.
"Just... ignore whatever that man says," Rufus sighed.
Kay laughed. It was delightfully warm and melodic; it was the kind of laugh that invited everyone else in the room to join it, as if Kay were the director of a giggling choir. "I know all about Frank, I'm afraid!" she reported to the veteran.
"Then you know what I put up with every day," Rufus smirked and gestured for Kay to take a seat on one of the lobby benches after he brushed it off. As he sat next to her, he continued, "Like I was saying, you look fine... I mean, lovely." He meant it, too, though he was taken aback by her complete turn in dress from yesterday. To be honest, he hadn't seen a woman dressed so chicly since he left Chicago the previous year.
Kay looked down and pulled at her coat. "Oh, this? Look, you don't have to be nice; I know this is rather... what's the word... ostentatious considering we're at war. I feel like I'm on display wearing all of this, actually. It's just that Father wants us to..." She looked up suddenly and gulped. "I... don't know why I'm telling you this. I'm sorry."
"No need for apologies," Rufus shrugged. Just then, he had a realization. "Wait, I know!" he said, snapping his fingers. "You're here for Fintan Murdock, aren't you?"
Kay blinked, astonished. "You know about him?"
"Well, not because I really want to, but we," he pointed in Frank's direction, past the ticket window, "were made aware earlier of his arrival today by two particularly intimidating-looking men. Your father's, I presume?"
Kay sunk into the bench, feeling embarrassed. "Probably," she sighed. Her head down, she looked up at Rufus in a convincingly coy manner. "But... I came here early, before the rest of my family. To see you."
The veteran felt himself get a little hot. As much of a life-changer as the war was, it had been a while—too long in Rufus's mind—since receiving any special attention from the fairer sex. War couldn't prepare him for this. "Why?" Rufus nervously coughed out his reply. He forced himself to sit up straight, but then crossed his legs in an attempt to appear casual about Kay's visit. The act of trying to balance his current posture between casual and formal was far more awkward than if he'd let his nervousness play out naturally, but fortunately Kay was too occupied to notice.
Kay, with a half-smile Rufus was already growing accustomed to, reached inside her muff and pulled out a long, red knit scarf. "I didn't see you with one of these yesterday, and you wouldn't let me pay you for your time and help. So here," she unfolded the scarf and handed it to him. "I won't let you refuse this time," she insisted.
"Oh," Rufus breathed in surprise as he graciously took the scarf. Its fine, tight knit felt buttery soft between his fingers. "Thank you. Very much," he told her sincerely, nodding in approval. "You know," Rufus looked up as he mused to Kay, "I was beginning to wonder if anyone in this town was going to give me one of those warm 'Western welcomes' I'd heard so much about back in the city." He bobbed the scarf in his hand and smiled at Kay. "Looks like I finally got it."
"Well... I..." Kay stumbled. "I make those for everyone. I... I have... a... whole drawer of them. Really." The color in her cheeks deepened in an instant. "You deserve it, anyway," she continued to play off her generosity. "But I'm glad you like it," she ended at a near whisper, reaching out to pat his left forearm before realizing there was nothing there to fill out the arm of his jacket. She pulled back quickly, embarrassed.
"Don't feel bad," he reassured her. "I forget it's not there, too. I would cut off the sleeve and just sew it up, but... well..." he held up his right arm, "hard to sew one-handed. Or, at least, I haven't had much time to teach myself one-handed sewing yet."
Kay tried to laugh at that, but wasn't sure if it was appropriate. She managed to barely squeak out her next question. "Did it happen in the mines?"
Rufus shook his head. "France."
"Oh," Kay gasped with widened eyes. A hundred questions filled her mind and fought for position at the front of the asking queue, but too much time must have lapsed, as Rufus ended up bringing Kay a question first.
"So what's your real name, Kay?" he asked with a sideways glance.
Kay almost blurted out her name, completely flummoxed from the news of sitting next to a disabled war veteran along with the sudden conversation change. "It's K... wait... it's Kay," she recovered in the nick of time. "I go by Kay. How did you know that wasn't my full name?"
Rufus stuck a thumb out to the back room. "Frank."
"There's a surprise," said Kay sarcastically. "He didn't tell you what my name is?"
Rufus snorted. "He couldn't even remember which one you were among your sisters."
"Ah. Safety in numbers, I guess," Kay joked, took in a deep breath and exhaled, "but I don't like my full name. It's ridiculous, just like most of my sisters' names. I refuse to use it." And with what little freedom she had, she announced this to Rufus quite proudly.
"How bad can it be? If it's from opera..."
"So Frank at least remembered that much," she interrupted with a grunt. She put a finger to her chin as she began contemplating a new game. "Okay," she addressed Rufus, biting her lip playfully, "here's what I'll do. I'll give you a week to figure out my real name. If, after the week is over and you still don't know it, you will read my favorite book to me..."
Before she could continue, Rufus belted out in laughter. "Read to you? Why?"
She looked down sheepishly. "Because I like your accent..."
Rufus found this surprisingly flattering. A Chicagoan as played by an Englishman from Leicester? And to think someone actually enjoyed his voice! He attempted to stifle his laughter and motioned for the young woman to continue with her bet.
Kay now felt a little silly, twisting her mouth to the side as she finished, "If you guess correctly, I'll be your tailor."
Now that was something Rufus could use! "Deal!" he immediately agreed, letting the scarf fall to his lap as he held out his right hand. The two shook hands and the bet was on.
She stood up, prompting Rufus to follow suit. "Well, my family will be here soon, so I should probably meet them outside," she said while absentmindedly taking Rufus's scarf, throwing it over his neck and adjusting it as if she was getting him ready to go with her. Rufus said nothing, only raising an eyebrow and waiting for the moment when she realized she was primping a strange man. After a few more seconds, he cleared his throat, which successfully put Kay back on planet Earth, inside the Thebes, Colorado train station. She snapped her hands away and covered her mouth, horrified.
"Oh, I wasn't even thinking! I'm so used to helping at least one other person as I'm getting ready to go anywhere, and you were conveniently right here..."
Rufus put up his hand to stop her babbling. "Don't worry. It's drafty in here, anyway, and..." he finished the rest of his thought by giving her a show of hands. Or, hand, that is.
"Right," she nodded, pointing to his left arm. "I was thinking ahead!"
"Exactly!" Rufus agreed, patting the scarf. "Now, before you go, do I get a hint?" He bobbed his eyebrows coaxingly at her.
She thought for a second, tapping her lips with a finger. "How much do you know about opera? Any opera? In general?"
"Almost nothing. I might know a song or two from Carmen, maybe."
Suddenly, Kay took a few steps back and cleared her throat. She hummed very quietly for several seconds while looking at the ceiling, attempting to get herself ready for an impromptu solo. Rufus wasn't sure what was going on and decided to sit down again while he was waiting. A bar or two more of humming, and then Kay burst out in song:
"Martern aller Arten, aller Arten
Mögen weiner warten
Ich verlache
Ich verlache
Ich verla-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-ache, Qual und Pein..."
Rufus was stunned mute. Kay's last 'verlache' climbed the entire scale and went on for a half-minute, he was sure. His jaw hung open as he tried to formulate a response, any kind of response, other than his current stupor over her nearly perfect (well, perfect to Rufus, at least) a capella rendition of... whatever opera this aria was from. He at least had enough rational thought left to make a mental note about it being possibly a German opera.
"Does that sound familiar?" she asked finally.
Rufus looked at her a good minute before responding with, "No. It sounds beautiful."
