WISH YOU WERE THERE!
Jantallian
Holiday Snapshot 2
"I thought you said it was a quiet hotel?" the fair man queried as they passed through the swing doors onto the street early the next morning.
"Kind of –" was the non-committal reply.
"It was noisy enough last night." The blonde rubbed his eyes and stretched, still trying to shake off the effects of a broken night.
"Maybe they were havin' a party?" the other suggested.
"You should know!"
"Me?" The younger man's lean features immediately assumed a look of total innocence.
"Yeah, you. What time did you come back last night?"
There was a minuscule pause as the dark-haired man considered whether it was worth lying or if this might be counter-productive in riling his companion to the point of open rebellion. He said truthfully: " 'Round sun-up."
"Sunrise?" The older man peered at him, a worried frown creasing his forehead. "Jess, are you ok?"
Certainly the dark man looked uncharacteristically awake and lively for this time in the morning, when normally all you could get out of him was a growl and a demand for coffee. Not only that, but he was neatly dressed in clean, formal clothes and it looked as if someone had brushed his hat.
"I'm fine."
Oh no! There's got to be something wrong if he says that!The sleep-deprived one thought of his own fatigued state and demanded: "How much sleep did you get?"
"You don't wanna know!" he was told firmly. "Now come on, let's get on with this job you've managed t' land us with!"
"No-one asked you to come," the blonde man pointed out.
"Oh yes they did. Jonesy and Mort made Miss Rachel ask me t' ride shotgun on this expedition, 'cause there's no knowin' where you and the Reverend might end up."
"Back home, of course. To get him home is what we're being paid for."
"That's what his daughter's payin' you for. She's payin' me to look after both y' hides!"
The leader of the expedition gave up the unequal struggle with this stubborn viewpoint. He had indeed offered to help Miss Rachel Fitzwilliam, a young and charming acquaintance in Laramie, when she received a disturbing letter from her elderly father, suggesting that he was lost and confused somewhere in California – the Barbary Coast to be precise. He didn't see why Jess had to muscle in on the rescue, regardless of who had or hadn't asked him, unless, of course, he had devious designs of his own. Still, there was nothing he could do about it: he would just have to put up with Jess being there now.
On with the job! He looked up the street, then down. It looked pretty unprepossessing in both directions.
"So where do we start?" The dark man was watching his companion and the surrounding doorways and alleys carefully, just in case.
"Well, he's a minister, so I guess the local church," was the practical suggestion. "I saw it as we came in, about two minutes from the stage stop. Let's go."
They went. They arrived.
"You stay here."
The dark man scowled and demanded, "Why?"
"It's a risky business, going to a church. They might just decide you're enough of a sinner to try converting you," his companion grinned. "Now me, I'm just a harmless tourist. Anyway, I'm much more tactful than you and," - he had noticed that several middle-aged ladies were working at cleaning the porch and outside of the church – "politer and more appealing to their mothering instinct!"
His companion gave a derisive snort. Certainly the last statement was inaccurate, since Jess Harper's ability to stir up the feeding, patching up and comforting instincts of most women was well attested to. In this instance, however, he certainly didn't look anything like a tourist and probably appeared a touch too sharp, too predatory, for the 'look after me' appeal to operate effectively. Being willing, for the moment, to let things take their course, he merely shrugged resignedly, produced a slim panatella, lit up and leaned against the nearest wall. "Go head then. I'm coverin' your back."
"Against some old ladies? Just about as much as you can manage!" the fair-haired man taunted and beat a hasty retreat in the direction of the church. He walked up to the porch, removed his hat politely and addressed the nearest and largest lady, who was beating out the doormat with a fervour that should have warned him.
"Excuse me, madam, I'm looking for –"
"Well you'll get none of that here!" She rounded on him, shaking the dusty carpet-beater in his face. He backed hastily away as a verbal diatribe, the equivalent of the mud tsunami, broke about his unsuspecting ears: "You get away from here, you serpent you! Trouble and evil are under your tongue! Son of perdition! Philistine - child of Jezebel – hypocritical mocker – worker of iniquity! You unrighteous and cruel man! Deviser of mischief – sower of discord – winebibber – riotous eater of flesh - armpit of Satan! You make a noise like a dog going round the city! O wicked man with a forward mouth! Green bay tree! You eat the bread of wickedness and drink the wine of violence! You man of offence and son of destruction! You whited sepulchre and dabbler in abominations!" *1
At this point, she ran out of breath. It was, in all fairness, a quite unjustified attack. It would have been different if the other man had stood before her, but this one was obviously nothing of the sort. Honesty, friendliness, kindness and generosity were etched into his face, together with more of a share of innocence and wholesomeness than most adult human beings have a right to.
The woman, however, was not impressed by appearances: "An imp of Satan hiding behind the face of a cherub! But I'll wash the devil out of you in the Lord's name!" She picked up the bucket beside her and flung the contents over the blonde man. Soapsuds and dirty water dripped from his hair and everywhere else. He bowed to the woman, replaced his hat carefully, turned and walked back to where his companion was waiting.
"Was he there?" At least the true imp of Satan was not making jibes about success with old ladies and the conversion of sinners.
"I didn't get to look inside," the innocent admitted, wiping his smarting eyes with another clean handkerchief.
"Go on home and get dry." His friend shooed him firmly in the direction of the hotel. "An' don't forget to lock the door!"
"What are you going to do?"
"If you can't succeed with the old ladies, y' can always try the young ones." The dark man was already half way across the road, where he had spotted the pretty young lady who had travelled with them on the stage.
"But Jess –!"
Too late again. The opportunist was already arm-in-arm with her as they strolled gently towards the church. The cleaning ladies gathered in a welcoming committee. You'd think they had been specially cleaning the approach just so that the pair could walk on it.
The drenched one watched as they disappeared inside. He was mentally cursing his lost opportunity, but put it down to the luck that favoured the unscrupulous. After all, Jess couldn't have arranged that bucket of water – could he? Or could he?The kind and generous features were momentarily obscured by a frown.
It had begun to rain again, strange, soft, warm rain, so unlike the brisk, sharp, clean downfalls in Wyoming. The drenched man was getting even wetter. He shrugged, gave a last glance at the church porch and the empty bucket and then he squelched thoughtfully away. The Barbary Coast was obviously somewhere that hell-fire made sense, at least to its inhabitants.
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SS - JH
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Considerably later in the day, Jess returned and collapsed on to the vast bed. He closed his eyes and groaned.
"Have you been drinking?"
"Drinkin'? In church? With a lady?"
Suppressing a desire to say 'She's no lady if she's worn you out!' Slim confined himself to their proper employment. "Well, did you find him?"
"No. Ain't never been there. An' they've never heard of anyone answerin' to his description."
"Are you sure you described him properly?"
"Yeah – like one of those old prophets out o' the bible – big man, bushy hair, long white beard and a nose like an eagle."
Slim sighed. "That's right. I just wish he'd been there!" It would have been so much simpler.
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1. All these terms of disapprobation except one come directly from the Bible. You can also have fun with Biblical Curse Generator at Ship of Fools website!