Julie R. Neidlinger: Lone Prairie Blog

Blogathon 2006: Chapter 7.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 1 comments link this post

Sergio's Hotel proved to prove Dove wrong. Despite the exterior and the town it was located in, he found himself appreciating the comfortable lodging.

After paying for his room, he headed down to the great room at the front of the establishment for some food and a chance to talk to the two beautiful young girls who he guessed were Sergio's daughters.

Seating himself at a table, a woman quickly brought a plate of food and hot coffee to his table.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said.

"'Tis not often we get strangers to this town," she said with a lilting accent. "The usually bypass the hotel in favor of the jail or gallows."

"Makes business difficult, I imagine," Dove said, digging into the plate of spaghetti in front of him, not sure if he'd ever had such a thing before and unclear how it came so easy to him. "My compliments to Sergio for this fine meal."

"I'll give him your compliments the next time I leave flowers at the cemetery," she said sadly, slowly putting the pot of coffee on the wooden table, her eyes wandering the empty land of the past. "In Italy, he was no great cook. Here, he was a genius. I miss him dearly."

Dove wiped his mouth with his napkin, saying nothing and letting her continue.

"This place," she said, shaking her head, "this place is no place for my girls. But it's a long ride home, if there was such a thing waiting for us somewhere else."

"Smallpox?" he asked.

She sighed. "No. It was Solitaire."

"I thought poker was the more violent of card games."

She smiled sadly. "It is, it is. Solitaire is the more violent of men, however."

The red-headed daughter came over, having placed a bowl of beef stew on the side board. "Mama, are you thinking out loud again?"

"Tell me about Solitaire," Dove asked.

"You can ask him yourself," she whispered, backing away, her sister, who had been prodding the wood stove positioning herself against the wall on the far side of the room.

There stood the man from the saloon, in the big black hat. Dove picked up his cup of coffee and calmly took a sip, looking Solitaire right in the eye. He was alone. That was fitting.

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Labels: blogathon