The eatery was completely empty except for a middle-aged woman wearing a spotless white linen apron. She had looked up as the six strangers walked in, her face a mask of apprehension, tinted with fear. “Yeah?” she said. “You looking for a meal?”
“This is a diner?” Ryan asked.
“Sure is. Best in town. Brown Burro’s been goin’ since way back before skydark.”
“You looked like you might have been expecting different company,” J.B. said, leaning the scattergun in the corner of the room and sitting at a rectangular table.
“Been some bad ones around here in the” Her eyes flicked nervously over the group. “You ain’t them?”
“Gang of stickies and norms?” Ryan said. “Seen their bloody leavings all over the Rockies. No, we aren’t them.”
The relief could almost be touched.
“Figured you wasn’t them.”
“We came through Alma,” Krysty stated. “They took the ville apart. How come Fairplay isn’t touched?”
The woman sniffed, eyes looking past her, through the curtained window at the cool evening. “Some folks think they’re just waiting for the right moment. Some folks run to do their bidding. Brown-nose bastards! Nobody’ll stand up to them.”
“Many people prefer the option of living on their knees to dying on their feet.” Doc intoned.
“Right there, mister. Fairplay’s useful to them. Get all the stores they want on the slate here. Not that they’ll ever pay their dues.”
“They eat here?”
She looked at Jak, clearly unhappy at his white hair, pale face and ruby eyes. “You sure you ain’t ? No. Eat here? Sometimes. I make them pay. Jack up front for what they want. Don’t like to think where that jack comes from. Blood money is what I reckon it must be.”
“They likely to stop by tonight?” Ryan asked, walking and opening the door, looking and listening all around.
“Hardly. Always get back to their camp up in Harmony before full dark.”
Krysty had sat beside the Armorer, running her fingers over the odd covering on the table, which was lots of predark coins, set in thick, clear plastic.
“They taken Harmony?”
“Sure have. Hear they did some chilling and raping. Usual story. Most of the living are too scared to run now. One or two got out in time. They hide around here. Now, they could look in for some supper tonight.”
Mildred was reading the chalked menu. “Reckon I could start at the top with your potato-and-leek soup and work my way through every single thing until I got to the coffee at the end. Sure sounds real good.”
“Brown Burro prides itself on giving folks value for money,” the woman said. “You all sit yourselves down and I’ll take your orders.”
It didn’t take long for them to make up their minds, and they waited, mainly in silence, while the woman went into the kitchen to pass their orders to her cook.
Krysty was restless, shifting in her seat, glancing out as the darkness folded itself around the little ville. “So close” she said.
Ryan called out, asking if there was accommodation to be had in the ville.
“Sure. A few empty cabins. I’ll tell you which ones to try when you’re ready to go. They belong to some of the locals who’ve done a runner, ones who reckon the gang’ll pay us in blood when the markers fall due. Seems pointless to me. Up and running. About as much good as waving a lantern at a runaway train.”
She turned as a bell rang from the kitchen, telling her their food was ready. Moments later she reappeared with a tray in each hand, the dishes jostling each other.
“Venison stew with creamed potatoes. Same with roasted potatoes and peas and beans. Steak-and-bacon pie with wild rice and chicken gravy. Breast of chicken with french fries and sliced tomatoes in oil. Trout we got was so big I’ve divided into two portions. With cress and lettuce and a side order of fries. Sourdough bread and our own salted butter. Got some blueberry jelly I made myself if anyone’s interested. There’s some red currant sauce for the venison and onion sauce with the pie and the chicken. Fish has its own white sauce with pepper and some of my own herbs. That everything you ordered?”