Page 3 of A Groom for Heather
“I will, Mr…?”
“James. Dalton James.”
The woman took a step back and her eyes darted left and right as if looking for an escape. “I’ve heard about you.”
Dalton smiled. “Yes ma’am.”
“You caught the Willis gang in Texas.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“I heard when you decide to go after someone, you’ll bring them in dead or alive.”
“Well,” Dalton said, tossing peppermint sticks wrapped in wax paper on the counter. “I prefer alive over dead. The reward is greater that way.”
“So, are you a bounty hunter?”
“No ma’am. I’m just usually in the right place at the right time.” Dalton noticed the uneasy way that the shopkeeper was moving behind the counter. Dalton put his hands up. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to get some clothes and I’ll be on my way.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a dime, laying it next to the candy.
The woman took the dime and laid it on the register. “I’ll get these wrapped up right now.”
A few moments later, Dalton was walking towards the saloon with clean clothes under his arm.
The saloon was dark and filled with men playing cards, drinking, and a few women in white peasant blouses with brightly colored skirts. Dalton worked his way through the crowd towards the bar.
The bartender was already pulling out a small glass and a bottle of whiskey. “Twenty-five cents a shot, or three dollars for the whole bottle.”
Dalton raised his hand to stop the man. “Not here for a drink. I just want to get a hot bath and a meal.”
The man put the bottle beneath the counter. “José!” he shouted. A medium-skinned man with hair the color of coal appeared. “Take our friend upstairs. He wants a bath.”
“Si,” the man said and motioned for Dalton to follow him. They walked upstairs to a room at the end of the hall. The man opened the door and motioned for Dalton to enter.
The room was dusty with peeling wallpaper and candles that were just nubs on the wall. “I’ll be right back with hot water,” the man said, taking Dalton’s money. “You get two buckets. If you want any more, they are two cents each.”
“How high do two buckets fill the tub?”
“About halfway.”
Dalton rummaged through his pocket and pulled out two coins. “I’ll want another bucket then.”
The man nodded and disappeared down the hall. Dalton looked around at the small room. Other than the peeling wallpaper, the room was clean. A large enamel tub sat in the center of the room. A wooden chair and washstand with a looking glass above it were lined up against one wall. He spied a folding razor, scissors, and a bar of soap on a dirty lace doily next to the washbasin. In the corner stood a partition, behind which someone could undress.
Unwrapping his packages, Dalton draped his clean clothes over the folding screen and walked over to the washbasin. Looking at himself in the looking glass he grimaced. It had been months since he truly gazed on his reflection. His skin was weathered from riding in the hot sun for years chasing Frank Drummond. He looked much older than his twenty-five years.
Dropping his hat on the chair he ran his fingers through his deep brown hair. It had grown since he left home. It was now past his shoulders and in desperate need of being washed. He looked like one of the Indians he saw on his travels. Using the scissors, he trimmed his beard as close to his skin as he could, then picked up the razor, snapping it open.
He ran his finger along the blade of the straight edge.It was dull.He would need to wait to get shaved. Putting the razor down he pulled the boot jack out from underneath the washstand.
It was a beat-up piece of wood with a tapered slat and a notch at the top. He stepped on the wood and put the heel of his boot in the notch, yanking it off his foot. He was shucking off his second boot when a different man appeared with two buckets of steaming water.
“I’ll be back with your other bucket,” the man said, pouring the hot water in the tub. “When you are done, you need to empty the water. I just bring it.” He pointed to a small window behind dark curtains. “You can just throw it in the street. Just be sure to yell before you toss it out. Normally there ain’t no ladies walking on this side of the street, but they have been known to get drenched a time or two.”
Dalton gave a little chuckle. “I can do that. Do you have a razor strop? It doesn’t look like that blade has been sharpened in a while.”
The man picked up the razor and put it in his pocket. “I’ll bring you a sharp one.”
Dalton waited until the man left and quickly undressed, dropping his clothes on the floor. Taking the bar of soap, he climbed into the tub and watched as the dirt swirled in the water. As Dalton was washing his hair, he heard a knock on the door.
