He was sitting at a table eating his breakfast. The breakfast rush his hostess – probably the most appropriate word for her. Since she didn't seem to be in any other business, it felt right to use appropriate language. Her breakfast rush had consisted of seven men, including himself, each of whom came in or down at different times and stayed for different lengths of time. Some were chatty, some were silent. All were hungry.
Outside the town was waking up, if such a sleepy place ever actually woke up. There were women and children's voices, and even what sounded like a school bell, although he had seen nothing that looked like a school. Probably in someone's front room, if any of these buildings had a separate front room. At least school wasn't being held in the saloon, which (probably) wouldn't have surprised him too much. The women seemed like she'd encourage, promote, and support education.
Which spoke well of her business sense (for the very poor location she had chosen.) Families were, after all, what businesses needed, be it for goods or for jobs.
The voices of the children quieted, he supposed as they were led into whatever building.
Lottie cleared off the last of the tables, and refilled his coffee, asking if he wanted anything else.
As he was opening his mouth to answer, the door opened and another customer came in. This man was tall and thin, his square face drawn and off-color, his hair wild, rather like the hair on yesterday's loudmouth. His clothes were worn and too large for him, his hands dry and bony.
On one leg, he wore the smaller child from yesterday. The child had his arms and legs wrapped around the leg, and his face pressed hard against the man's trousers, with his eyes squeezed shut. His fingers were white from holding on. His face, what could be seen of it, looked wet. Whether tears or rain, Aaron couldn't tell, and he surprised himself with his certainty that the child was unhappy.
The man and attached child took a seat as far away from him as they could get.
Lottie appeared from the back carrying a rather fancy tea tray. "No luck with school again today, Jonathan?" she greeted the man cheerfully.
The man took the tea tray from her, and began unloading it. She went behind the bar and came back out with a short stool that fit into the chair. "Come on, now, little one," she coaxed the child, loosening his grip on the man and plopping him onto the stool. She unbuttoned his coat and slid it off his arms, hanging it on the back of the chair. "Would you like some nice warm tea, sweetheart? With lots of milk?" She pushed the chair up to the table. "And how about a biscuit with lots of huckleberry jam? Does that sound good?"
The boy flexed his fingers and nodded solemnly.
The man put a filled cup and saucer in front of the boy, and he curved his fingers around it almost reverently, leaning forward to breathe in the steam. It was unusual to see a child with such delicacy of touch.
"Jason's not around this morning?" Lottie asked the man named Jonathan.
Jonathan snorted. "Aye, he's around. Come stumbling in just as I was getting the boys up and dressed, and throwing himself into the bed they'd just left. That boy!" He shook his head, poured his own tea, and stretched out his legs under the table."I dinnae know what will become of the lad."
"Don't hold this period of adjustment against him. He's no more keen on living in town than your wee one here is." She handed the boy a sloppily jellied biscuit, and he licked delicately around the edges.
"Tis not to my liking as far as that goes," the man said, "but tis better than staying in that hollow house up yonder. Who's the Don?"
"The who?"
"The hidalgo." The man gestured Aaron's way.
"His name is Stempel."
"AG's grandson? I remember him saying his son first married a senorita."
"I haven't asked. And, no, I don't know what his plans are. I don't think he knows."
"Wonder if I might buy his grandar's stock from him. Twould be something to keep my boys busy."
"Especially that scallawag Jason?"
"Aye."
Lottie laughed and sailed off into her back room, after patting the child on the head and refilling his milky tea.
He patted her face in thanks, and Aaron realized, with a shock, that he hadn't heard the child say a single word.
What was that about?
Why was he even curious about it? Children had never been, and would likely never be, of any interest to him. Good lord, what was this place doing to him?