by Chula Stone
Shep couldn’t help admiring the man’s diplomacy. “My mistake, sir. Still, that being the case, could you point me in the direction of somebody’s … uh, female relations who would?”
Bailey did perk up at this query. “An interesting point, Uncle. Are there eating establishments in this town? Any that might cater to this sort of person? I need to know so I can avoid them. And more importantly, are there any that we might find suitable?”
The elder Mr. Branson scowled at his nephew. “No need to be offensive, Bailey. I apologize for my young nephew’s bad manners. He has not yet learned that out here in the West, it is even more important than usual to refrain from judging a book by its cover.”
Shep grinned good-naturedly at the pair on the opposite bench. “No offense taken, sir.” He even touched the brim of his hat in appreciation. “I can see you’re sure no tenderfoot, no matter what clothes you wear. I’m glad for your nephew’s sake that you’ll be around to show him the ropes before he gets on the wrong side of somebody who isn’t as congenial as myself.” Shep shifted in his seat and his vest rode up slightly, revealing his six-shooter. Quickly covering it again, he went on. “I was hoping for a home cooked meal but if there are restaurants, so much the better.”
“There are several sorts of establishments in town you might find useful, young man. For example, the barber across from the railway station is considered to be the best and runs the cleanest shop. You’ll want to stop off there first, of course.”
“Of course,” Shep agreed, stroking his long scruffy beard. He had meant to have a shave and a haircut before he called on the Sloans anyway, but the kindly worded advice demonstrated the speaker’s friendly intent.
“Then the café down the street from my very own office provides a fine light repast at the time of day we will be arriving. No other restaurant in town is open save that in the railway station, but I happen to know that the cook there is a man. If you wish to have as you put it, a woman-cooked meal, you can go there. I don’t know if they have fried chicken on the menu today, but I’m sure they will not disappoint you with whatever they do offer.”
“You know the place well, do you?” Shep asked.
“The owner of the establishment is one of our clients. We’ve known the family for years. Since the present Sloan brothers were just boys, actually.” The elder Branson smiled as if at the recollection of by-gone days.
Shep was beginning to like this man despite his profession and his traveling companion. “Is it their wives that cook?”
“Not on a daily basis, though they do sometimes work behind the counter. Presently, I believe it is a distant relation of Mrs. Drina Sloan’s that is mostly responsible for the majority of the cooking. Miss Pann’s culinary creations are as delightful as they are unique.”
“Well, that sounds right up my alley.” Shep smiled and started to look out the window, not wanting to make a nuisance of himself. He had got the measure of both men and even managed to bait the other into showing his true colors. No need to belabor the point.
The elder lawyer was apparently enjoying their conversation. “I will warn you, though. The café does cater more to female sensibilities.”
“What do you mean?”
“The food is first rate, but the décor is decidedly feminine. I happen to know that one of the first things the brothers did upon buying a controlling interest in the café was to reinforce the furniture so that it would feel more substantial for customers like themselves.”
Shep thought he understood. He had seen Slingo and Drina’s house a few months after they had been married. Whatever hadn’t been covered with crochet doilies and ruffles had been painted pink. “Substantial? Like me?” He straightened his vest and sat up taller. “So you’re saying I can sit on the chairs without worrying I’ll break them?”
“Precisely. And the serving sizes are more than generous despite the decidedly dainty ambiance.”
At that point, the conductor came through calling, “Next stop, Merriview.” Shep went with him to prepare his charges for leaving the train. When he returned, the carriage was empty, but Shep noticed a briefcase wedged under the seat opposite to where the older lawyer had been sitting. He considered turning it over to the conductor, but the lawyer had been nice enough, in his own way so he determined to return it to him personally. And in fact, once he had delivered the animals, he would have time to devote to having a little more fun.
As he left the train, however, he found that nature had other plans. A stiff breeze had blown up and a cold drizzle was rapidly turning into rain. He couldn’t transport his charges in this weather, not without his slicker and a much trustier horse than he was likely to find for hire at the local livery stable. He shouldn’t have worried. Slingo Sloan was waiting for him as he disembarked. “There you are, you old son of a gun!” Slingo cried, clasping him firmly by the hand. “What do they feed you in the Army? Dr. Cureall’s Grow Anything Anywhere Miracle Elixir? Last time I saw you, Barty, I could rest my elbow on your head.” Slingo pantomimed leaning on a much shorter man and falling comically. “I wouldn’t want to try that now!”
“Seems strange to hear you call me Barty, Mr. Sloan. I’ve been called Shep for so long, I forget Barty means me.”
“Shep it is then. And you can call me Slingo now. And Vince is Vince. He’s sorry he couldn’t get up here to meet you. Can’t wait to see you, but we’ve got a bit of trouble down in the valley. He had to stay to take care of things.”
“Trouble? In the valley?”
“Our spread, the Frogleg is in a deep valley. It’s part of the ravine you had to cross to get here. I keep forgetting you haven’t been here before. Merriview isn’t far from the Frogleg if you come by foot or a very sure-footed pony when the trails are dry, but in wet weather like this, or with a wagon any time, you have to take a road that makes a corkscrew look like an arrow. That can take a while.”
“So I guess we’d better get started if we’re going to make it before nightfall,” Shep suggested as they walked toward the freight car.
Slingo shook his head. “Not tonight. We’ll check the critters in at the livery stable for the night and come get them in the morning. They are all present and accounted for, aren’t they?”
“Sure thing,” Shep assured him proudly. “I kind of like chasing critters when they’re in cages. Makes a darn sight easier to manage. If we could just do that with cattle…”
“Ugh! Can you just imagine the smell?” Slingo laughed.
“Hey, even with these little guys, it’s no bed of posies in there.” Shep indicated the freight car, the contents of which could be heard clucking and snorting restively. “Anyway, if cows could fit in cages, I guess I’d be out of a job and I’d miss my horse, so we’ll stick with driving them.”
What served as a livery stable was actually a solidly built enclosed sort of warehouse with plenty of storage for all kinds of hay, feed and other cargo as well as the horses and carriages for hire. With plenty of help from the stable hands, the smaller animals were soon stashed in their crates and the larger ones were loaded into stalls. Shep did this very carefully, since he wasn’t exactly familiar with the habits of these interesting creatures. “All I know is that Mr. Gabor said to keep them together as much as possible without overcrowding them. They’ll work out their own differences in a little while, but they don’t like to be alone. I guess I really ought to stay with them here tonight.”
“There’s no call for you to do that,” Slingo objected. “They’ll be fine on their own. I’ll put you up in the hotel where I’m staying. I’ve already got us rooms.”
“I guess that’ll be okay as long as I can get in to check on them. Right now, there’s a barber’s chair with my name on it.”
An hour later, clean-shaven and neatly shorn of his shaggy winter hair as he thought of it, Shep strode down the street to the dry goods store. The only article of clothing he didn’t replace was his leather vest. “Burn those old duds, will you?” he told the shopkeep
er when he stepped out of the back room where he had changed.
“Good idea,” the shopkeeper replied, holding the old clothes at arm’s length. “You’re doing the right thing, young man. Have you been out on the trail? And maybe decided to bring most of the trail with you?”
“I have been minding some of the most ornery critters ever created and put on this earth, and that’s the truth. They seemed to delight in rolling around in mud and then plastering it on anybody within fifty feet of them.”
“Well, I like critters as well as the next man. Could I come see?”
“Tomorrow would be better. I want to let them settle down tonight so they’re not so riled up for the last leg of the trip tomorrow. You can see them when we lead them out of the livery stable. Be sure to be out front of your store here by daybreak if you don’t want to miss them.” Shep could tell he had the man’s interest. By keeping a certain air of mystery, he hoped to build a little curiosity and good will for the Sloans’ unusual business venture.
By the time he bought a few other necessities and made his way to the café, half the town was buzzing about the critters. Shep was sure the workers who had helped with the offloading would be regaling their friends with stories about the animals but curiosity would still be at a fever pitch. Everyone would want to get a look at the creatures for themselves.
Feeling rather pleased with his day’s work, Shep took a seat near the counter of the café and set down the briefcase he had carefully kept near him. With gratifying alacrity, the bat-wing doors to the back of the shop opened and admitted, not a smiling waitress but an equally enticing vision. Long straight black hair fell over a pair of dainty shoulders and swung just at a trim waist. Beneath that waist was the loveliest backside he had ever seen on a woman. A faint, off key humming accompanied her mincing steps as she gave a quick twirl, as if she were daydreaming of being at a grand ball.
Just at the crucial moment, a clatter focused his attention even more sharply on this intriguing sight. The clatter was followed by a muffled curse of the type Shep knew women sometimes used when they thought no one could hear them. Then the young lady did something, which Shep had hardly dared to hope for. She bent over. And twisted. And wiggled backwards toward him.
Shep could hardly get his breath. It was such an incredible sight, with the skirts swaying and the hair rippling and the round nether parts curving out in all the right places.
The young lady continued to curse to herself as she backed up. “…and if I ever figure out who keeps polishing this floor so that it’s so slick, I’ll peel their bark and chop them up for kindling! How can a body be expected to hold a tray steady on this…oh, we have a customer.” In her shock, she straightened up too quickly and smacked her head on the underside of the counter that ran along the edge of the table space. This had her bent double again, the curses flying.
Shep was up in a flash. “Be still. Your apron is caught.” And so it was. He could see a nail sticking out from under the counter. She could have torn her skin, thrashing around like she was. Knowing no other way to stop her peril, Shep snatched at whatever parts of her he could reach and gathered them to him.
“Let go of me!” the young lady hissed. “I can take care of myself!”
“If you straighten up now you’ll—” Too late. Her pitching around had set to wobbling several large glass display vases filled with cookies and other confections. One of them tipped all the way over and came crashing down at their heads. Like lightning, Shep reached out and just in time blocked the vase. It fell harmlessly to the floor and shattered, mostly behind the cabinet.
“Now, look what you’ve done!” the girl cried petulantly. “All those candies ruined! Not to mention the vase in a thousand pieces.”
Shep drew her out toward the middle of the floor and released her. “Better the vase than your head.”
Her first act on straightening up was to push her hair back from her face. Shep felt as if he were being drawn into those brown eyes, their fiery depths calling to him with an undeniable voice of command. The set of her mouth, the line of her cheekbones, even the sassy little nose all served only to pull his gaze back up to those incredible eyes. Her voice did little to dispel the trance. “I wouldn’t have upset the vase if you hadn’t startled me so! What were you doing, sneaking into the shop like that?”
“Sneaking? I wasn’t sneaking.”
“You didn’t set the bells jingling.”
“There aren’t any bells,” he noted.
“Oh, so there aren’t. Somebody must have taken them down to clean them and then forgotten to put them back up.” The young lady harrumphed as if it hurt her to admit he might not be at fault. “So I suppose I owe you an apology. I’m sorry.”
She sounded more petulant than sorry, but Shep could forgive her for that. She had just taken a nasty knock to the head and had to feel slightly foolish. She also would have quite a job cleaning up that glass. “Don’t give it another thought. Is your head okay? You got quite a knock to the noggin there.”
She scratched at her head, making the ripples of black hair dance and shine in the fading sunlight that streamed through the windows. “Yes, thank you, I’m fine. Now, what can I get you?”
Shep wanted to answer that whatever would take the longest to fix was what he’d have, but he thought that might be off-putting, so he merely said, “Whatever you have that has a bit of chicken in it. And cornbread, if you’ve got it.”
“I have some fried chicken in the warming oven if that’ll suit.”
Shep’s smile broadened until he thought the ends might meet at the back of his head. “You can’t know how good that sounds, Miss Pann.”
The waitress had already turned to head to the kitchen, but on hearing her name, she missed her footing. Shep had to catch her to keep her from falling. “How did you know my name?” she demanded.
He thought about giving her a direct answer, but then what would make her think of him later? Unless he gave her something to wonder about, she would probably forget him the moment he walked out of her shop. He knew he would never be able to forget her. Better to arouse her curiosity. He had heard that women were curious creatures by nature. Time to test if that were true. “Would you believe me if I told you that I learned that and a lot of other essential information from none other than Merriview’s premier lawyer, Mr. Alvin Branson?”
“No, I would not,” she returned tartly.
“I can prove it. That’s his briefcase right there.” He pointed to the case resting on the seat beside him.
The young lady came around and examined the case with its label clearly printed with the lawyer’s name. “Why would Mr. Branson tell you about me?”
Shep just looked calmly at her. “Because I asked.”
“But why did you… oh, never mind. I’ll get your chicken.” She disappeared behind those teasing bat-wing doors that swung distractingly, giving him little glimpses of her until they settled back into place. She came back a few moments later, carrying a tray loaded with plates, bowls and baskets of food that smelled like it came straight from heaven.
“Nasty weather we’re having,” she commented as she put the fried chicken down in front of him. “Is it this cold and wet where you came from?”
Ah, so he had caught her attention. She was trying to ask him where he was from without wanting to sound to interested. He had come from Dallas where the weather had been even more beastly. “Yes, indeed. I’m afraid I might have brought it with me.”
She seemed satisfied with that answer for a moment. Slipping behind the counter, she began to sweep up the broken pieces of the jar. “Well, I wish you’d take it back again when you go. And when might that be?”
Another net she was casting, hoping for information. “That’s a good question,” he hedged. “I’m not exactly sure myself. I do know where I’ll be tomorrow morning. Out in front of the livery stable.” It wouldn’t hurt to drum up a little more interest in his charges.
Apparently, he had already
done that to a greater extent than he had anticipated. “So you heard about the critters as well?” she asked breathlessly. “I’m positively consumed with curiosity. I have to see what’s in that barn. I hear it’s a kind of cross between a horse and sheep. Completely impossible, I know, but that’s what folks are saying.”
“Really, now?” Shep commented as if he didn’t have much of an interest in the topic.
“They are indeed,” Miss Pann replied conspiratorially. “And I also heard that they scream like banshees wailing. And they’re ferocious as lions, hissing and spitting all over the place. I can’t wait to see them.”
“Ferocious? I don’t see how a cross between a sheep and anything could possibly be fierce, much less ferocious.”
“That’s what the men said who unloaded the critters from the train and moved them to the livery stable.”
“Well, you’ll be able to see for yourself tomorrow,” Shep suggested, hoping that she would show up. Slingo would introduce them properly and he could perhaps get to know her better.
“I suppose so,” she said with an air of smug satisfaction that raised all kinds of red flags in Shep’s mind.
He looked at her sharply. “Why do you say it like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like a cat in a canary shop.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Look, whatever is in that livery is locked up for a reason. Whatever you might be planning, you should forget it right now.”
“Planning? Why would I be planning something?”
Shep thought about telling her that he was well acquainted with Drina and if they were anything alike, he could tell right now that she would be planning something that ought to be stopped before it got good and started. But that would be giving away more than he intended to at the moment. He wanted to see if he could catch her interest on his own, without any help because of his connection to the family. “Well, I just mean that if anyone were planning anything, she would be well advised to forget it. Anyone put in charge of such a cargo would be sure to check it frequently. It’s not going to be left all on its own for long. And anyone who got caught breaking in might get more trouble than he or she bargained for.”