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American Eldritch, Chapter 7
🕑 Added 2024-07-20 21:01:00 +0000 UTCI didn’t sleep soundly, but I slept. The unfamiliar noises of the unfamiliar town kept waking me up, and once I rolled out of bed and had my gun pointed at the door, having heard someone walking in the hall. I crouched, using the bed for cover, listening. When the footsteps receded, I lowered the hammer on the gun and stuck it back in the holster. I slipped back into bed and went back to sleep.
Now that I was more or less healed, I guess my normal sleeping patterns were resuming. It had been nice sleeping through the night while it lasted.
When the morning came, I once again awoke to the sounds of footsteps. Again I rolled out of bed and had my gun pointed at the door. The door opened a few moments later, a woman in the hotels livery stepping through with a tray laden with food. She stopped with a gasp when she saw me with my gun drawn and pointed at her.
“B-breakfast service,” she stammered, eyes wide.
I sighed and lowered the hammer of the gun, sticking it in the holster hanging from the headboard. I grabbed the robe from the floor and slipped into it before rising. I glanced around the room, then gestured at the desk, whose chair I was using as a laundry hamper.
The maid hurried and deposited the tray on the desk while I grabbed my gun belt and debated the merits of wearing it over the robe versus not looking like a lunatic. I settled on carrying it with me as I circled the bed and approached the maid, who was doing her utmost to appear calm and collected and not scared half to death.
“I apologize,” I said. “Not used to this kind of livin’.”
“I—it’s fine,” she stammered. “Miss Mills said to be careful, but I misinterpreted her warning.”
I huffed a laugh through my nose and looked at the food. Eggs, bacon, a thick slab of ham, toast, two kinds of jam, coffee and even a glass of milk. I grabbed my hat from the chair and put it on my head, then tossed the rest of the clothes on the bed so I can sit down and dig in. “Sounds like we’re stayin’ here for at least a few days, if my guess is correct,” I said around a mouthful of bacon. “You might wanna warn your coworkers to start knockin’ before they enter my room.”
Her face colored prettily. “O-of course, sir,” she said, not meeting my eyes when I looked up at her. “Is there anything else you need?”
I shook my head. “This is more than enough. Thank you.”
She gave one of the little bows that I was beginning to understand was the trademark of the hotel and hurried to leave. I watched her go with my peripheral. In her haste, she forgot to close the door to the living room. Sitting room? I made an irritated noise and got up to close the door. When I came back to my meal, I stopped before sitting. Why the hell did they put the desk with my back to the door?
Irritated, I grabbed the heavy desk and pulled it away from the wall, having to lift it awkwardly so it didn’t catch on the carpet. It was a fancy writing desk with little drawers rising from the back of it, so I had to spin it too so I could eat while watching the door. The milk and coffee spilled a bit during the move, but it landed on the tray so I wasn’t too put off.
Paranoia suitably assuaged, I pulled the chair around and sat down to enjoy a good meal. Halfway through I got irritated with the crumbs falling into the bathrobe and took a break to slip into my clothes. I was pleased to find that someone had patched the hole in my boot. It was ugly, but at least it would keep the trail dust out.
Some time later there was a knock I heard from the next room. “Come in!” I yelled around a piece of toast.
Layla walked in a few moments later and snickered at what she saw. She was wearing a black and blue dress that flared at the hips, her hair done up in a pretty bun that showed off her attractive neck. “Didn’t like the décor?”
“Get antsy with my back to the door,” I declared unapologetically, crunching on the toast.
Layla’s mouth opened in an “ah” of understanding. “You about done? We have some shopping to do.”
I chased the toast down with the last of the coffee. “For what?”
“Well,” she crossed the room until she stood next to my bed, eyeing my boots critically. “Some boots that fit, for starters.”
I frowned uncomfortably. “Should you be throwin’ this money around? You have a bounty on your head.”
A sly grin spread over her face and she took a step back. “Do I look like the woman on the wanted poster?”
Now that she mentioned it, she did not. The sketch on the poster showed a woman with frizzy hair and a tattered blouse, face heavily lined from living in the sun. Layla had done something to her face, likely cosmetics, and she looked a decade younger. That, plus the new hairdo and outfit, and there was no way I’d place her as the woman from the bounty without knowing who she was.
“No,” I said, still with some dissatisfaction. “I suppose not.”
“We’re going to do the same with you,” she said, jerking her head toward the door. “Now up and at ‘em.”
I drank the last of the milk and went to put my boots on.
We arrived at the cobbler right as he was opening, and I got to have another new experience of getting fitted for boots. Layla once again had me model as the cobbler brought out what seemed to be his entire stock of boots in my size, and many that weren’t just so Layla could see “how I looked” in them. I was much more amenable to her demands with my gun returned to me, my nerves calmed by its presence.
Layla determined getting me a pair made would take too long, as she hated the way my current pair “flopped around like a pair of bags.” She bought me a couple pair, but still demanded some alterations to be made, to which the cobbler told us he’d have them delivered by the end of the day.
The next stop was a stable at the edge of town, where she sold our horses. I learned a lot about Layla then, because she knew who to talk to and the appropriate comments to make to sell the horses without the appropriate papers. As we walked away from the stable, she caught me staring at her.
“What?” She asked. “We needed to at least sell your horse so she wouldn’t give us away.”
“No, it’s not that,” I said as I shifted my gaze to the surroundings. “Just didn’t expect you to know how to talk to a horse fence, let alone find one.”
“It was one of the reasons I wanted to stop in Jute’s Love instead of one of the other towns on the way. And see? The disguise is working already,” she said with a wide smile, producing a fan and fluttering her face teasingly with it. “Now that I’m an upstanding lady, no one will suspect me of being a dirty ne’er-do-well.”
I barked a surprised laugh.
Next, we went to a leather worker’s shop that was next door to a gun store, where Layla attempted to once again get me to model various gun belts. That was where I drew the line.
“Now, Patton,” she began.
“Nah!” I snapped, lifting a finger. “Nah-ah! I’m fine with lettin’ you pick out my wardrobe, but the kind of holster I carry could affect my draw. Too loose and the damn gun will fall out in a scuffle, too tight and it might spoil my speed. The belt needs to sit on my hips just right, so it doesn’t interfere with me pullin’ my knives.”
Layla’s eyebrows climbed as I spoke, and she looked like she was holding back laughter. She glanced at the middle-aged gentleman who ran the shop. “Apparently I touched a nerve.”
The fellow shrugged. “Boy knows what he’s about.” He was a tall man, half a head above me. He wore a work shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his impressive biceps. He was completely bald, but sported a full beard that was braided down to his navel. His hands were tough and covered in thick skin. He looked me up and down, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t see any knives on you.”
It was a statement, but I heard the question in it. “Lost ‘em recently,” I said without glancing at Layla.
“Would you be interested in a knife harness?” He asked, including Layla in the discussion as he correctly assumed she was the one making the purchases.
***
Layla watched in amazement as the hard living young man reacted with joy for the first time since she met him. Apparently the magic word had been “knife harness.” The serious youth suddenly lit up like he had received a puppy and demanded to know what exactly a knife harness was with the air of someone who hoped he knew what was coming. It was honestly a relief to see him act his age.
She shook her head while he was distracted. Boys and knives.
“It’s basically a shoulder holster for knives,” the establishment owner explained, pulling a series of leather straps from a peg on the wall that Layla had dismissed upon first glance. Now that she was looking at it more closely, she could see it was designed somewhat like a mountain backpack harness, just without the backpack. It went over the shoulders and had a leather back, but clipped secure in the front. “These clips and these ties allow you to customize where you can store the sheaths. The back is set up for bigger weapons, though in my experience, the best fit is to secure them hilt down for a quicker draw—and allowing you to draw while wearing a coat.”
If anything, the explanation excited Patton more. Layla smiled in contentment, amending today's plans to include a trip to the bank. Hopefully they had a line of credit with her bank in Chicago she could draw from.
As she watched Patton discuss the harness with the owner, a wave of nostalgia washed over her, dampening her smile. A similar scene flashed in her mind, taking place many, many years ago. She allowed herself to wade into the bittersweet memories, embracing this rare time where they weren’t brought on by tragedy.
When she came back to the present, the two men—no, boys, she amended—were having an animated discussion about Patton’s vest. As she watched, Patton took it off and displayed several hidden sheaths, prompting the store owner to stroke his beard thoughtfully. Layla sighed.
She had been hoping to offset some of the costs by selling the horses. You don’t have to buy everything for the boy, she said to herself, knowing she wouldn’t listen.
It wasn’t that he was young, or the terrible life he’d lived so far that was making her dote on him. Or even the person he reminded her of. It boiled down to the simple fact that it was just… wonderful, to do something nice for a change. That it served her purposes was a happy bonus.
Plus, she continued a moment later. I have a feeling he’ll be needing everything bought today, sooner or later.
