Welcome To Red Cloud

Chapter Four - Vittles

The ladies were fast with the laundry cart, and I lost sight of them in the dirt trail as I headed back towards the Dew Drop too. There were no other carts or carriages to speak of on the main thoroughfare, though I passed a stable yard that was taking a few colts out for exercise in the deep heat of the afternoon. My stomach growled with every step, and I let my gut lead me toward the town's sole hotel and the scent of cooking within.

It seemed I had chosen a peak time to get hungry, for the Dew Drop had opened up a set of double doors on its side, letting the chairs, tables and customers of the slop kitchen tumble out into the square. A bustle of voices and faces went by, mostly men chittering to one another and laughing through dirty-faced grins. The closer I got to them, the more aware I was of how and clean and pale my looks were compared to theirs. Each labourer and townsman had grubby marks on his clothes and wiry bristles for moustaches or mutton chops. I clasped the box of medicines close to one side of my pale suit, and dipped my head a little on entering the fray.

In the indoor section there was a counter, and behind it I could just about make out the tiny hatted head of a figure I knew. The little boy from the foundations was leaping up and down to make the man beside him listen, and to his credit the man nodded and smiled along whilst he set about dishing up portions for the queue. There were beans and bread on offer and some kind of meaty stew, and the smell filled me up like the spirit himself as I got within earshot of the kid's babbling.

"And Mama said if Marley goes a-running in the night again, she's gonna tie her to her bed! Ain't that something Pops?"

The square fellow behind the counter let his eyes flash to the little boy for a moment. They had the same sandy hair and apples in their cheeks, though most of the father's face was coated in a finely groomed beard. "That's sure something, Emerson. I'd not be surprised if Mama does it, too." When his gaze returned, it landed on me, and he offered a gentle smile. "Somethin' to eat, good Sir?"

My hand had floated to hover over my stomach, and I let it sit there whilst I gave a nod. "Lord yes, thank you."

"Oh hey!" The little boy, Emerson, slipped his hat off and waved it at me. "I know you!"

I could barely drag my eyes from the plate that was being filled, but I managed a nod for the lad too. "That you do. Elias Alston, little man. At your service."

As the boy's father handed me the plate, a brow curled on his rosy face. "Are you the Elias Alston whose luggage I have stowed in Room Four?"

I took the plate and balanced it atop the medicine box, waiting for the silver. I tried hard at clearing the ache in my throat again. "I am, Sir. Mr Martin assumed I might lodge here, and I'd be grateful of a room and some meals if you have space to accommodate me."

My throat relaxed a little when the softness stayed in the other fellow's smile. "You're very welcome at the Dew Drop. We'll keep ya in Four, meals included." He had the cutlery in his hand, but he came around the counter before he wedged it into my grip alongside my dish and the box. "Jules Barrett, proprietor, and that lil bundle is my son, Emerson, who has no doubt already come to trouble in your path. I'm sorry for your incident in getting here, Mr Alston, but do be welcome in Red Cloud. We like city folk, even if it don't appear so at first. We'll come to terms on your stay at the hotel in the morning."

It was only as he walked away that I heard the clunking. I tried my damndest not to stare, but as Jules returned to the counter, the unmistakeable thump of a wooden leg followed. It was harnessed with a brace and it even wore a shoe. The queue for food had resumed behind me, and when I turned back I found the tables and chairs busier than ever.

City folk.

It was obvious. I was obvious, with my stainless suit and my hatless head. Every table turned its eyes to me for a brief glance and returned to its own company, grins and mumbles humming. I searched the crowd in case Martin or Franks were here getting their meals, but I saw no face I knew and no single expression anywhere near as welcoming as Mr Barrett's. He saw the colour of my money and it was good news for a hotelier, but these honest working men had nothing to gain from my acquaintance.