Entering the inn, the companions separated, automatically going around opposite sides of the buffer so as not to offer a group target. Inside, the inn was a lot larger than it seemed from the street, the single huge room filled with redwood picnic tables salvaged from predark days. A few had been expertly repaired with a lighter-colored wood, but every one was in good condition, offering seats for six at each. Old faded advertisements for beer companies adorned the walls. Most featured amazingly busty blondes in string-bikini swim-suits skiing down snowy mountains. Two fieldstone fireplaces stood at opposite ends of the room throwing out waves of heat, and a bar spanned the back of the building, rows of different shaped bottles filling the shelves, the mirror behind long gone.
The ceiling was festooned with fluorescent light fixtures reminiscent of bygone days. Now oil lanterns stood on every table with a customer. The rest dark and deserted.
More than a dozen men sat at the communal tables, slurping soup from wooden bowls or drinking from battered tin cups. A tall spindly man with a red beard was working as the barkeep, filling mugs with frothy beer. Cleaning off a dirty table was a young girl with midnight-black hair and figure she barely could keep within the tight clothing. Jak almost stumbled when he saw the pretty waitress, and bumped into an occupied table hard enough to rattle the plates.
“Sorry,” he apologized, backing away, not taking his sight off the waitress.
Crossing the room, Ryan chose a table slightly away from the locals, but with a good view of the front door. As the companions took their places on the attached bench, the raven-haired waitress hurried over from behind the bar and lit the table lantern with a smoldering piece of oakum. The light had a faint yellow tint, both from grease on the flume and the dirty oil in the basin. “Well, well, been a while since we last had outlanders in town. Welcome to the Hilton,” she said, placing both hands on her hips. “I’m Lil. That’s Cord, my pa, behind the bar with the shotgun. What’ll you have?”
“You got rooms, as well as food here?” Krysty asked, sliding off her heavy coat.
“Sure.” Lil frowned. “Upstairs on the second floor. They’re clean and not too many bugs. But this ain’t no gaudy house. We serve food and booze. Nothing more.”
“Good,” Ryan said, placing the box of ammo on the table, removing half the rounds, then sliding it over. “Food and three rooms for two nights.”
Expertly, the waitress caught the box as it went off the end and suspiciously examined the ammo before tucking it away into her apron. “Cord will test them tomorrow,” she said. “If these are loaded with dirt instead of powder, the sec men will toss you into the pit.”
“They’re good,” J.B. stated, tilting back his hat to a more comfortable position.
Lil looked over the group, then smiled. “Yeah, they are. One thing I can spot is shams.”
“Thank you for the compliment, dear lady. And pray tell, what is the bill of fare?” Doc asked, beaming a smile with his strangely perfect teeth. She stared blankly at the man. “What’s for food,” Mildred translated, kicking the time traveler under the table.
“Oh, gotcha.” Her face brightened. “Well, we got rabbit stew. It’s fresh today and pretty damn good. There’s cold mutton, and we can toss a few taters into the fire for ya. Bread and onions, of course, but we’re out of venison jerky. There is plenty of drippings and stale bread, but you paid for better than that slop. No pies till spring, but we got some apple butter left. Some smoked bacon, plenty of salted fish.”
“What kind of fish?” Krysty asked, fanning out her hair with both hands to hide the fact it was spreading all by itself.
Lil shrugged. “River fish.”
“Not from the quarry, is it?” Mildred asked pointedly. “Where you toss cheats and maybe your night soil?”
The woman pursed her lips tight. “That could be,” she finally admitted sheepishly, clearly embarrassed at getting caught.
“I’ll go with the rabbit stew,” Ryan decided, laying the Steyr on the table. “Big bowls and plenty of bread.”