Butler's Wager

CHAPTER 16

The café was small and filled with delicious smells. Even after the full breakfast he’d had, his mouth started to water when he walked in. There were only a few tables—mismatched, and they looked handmade, as did the chairs—and none of them were taken, at the moment. He looked around, waited and when no one appeared, he seated himself. After a few moments he called out, “Anybody home?”

Abruptly, a man stuck his head in from what Butler assumed was a curtained doorway to the kitchen.

“Oh, sorry,” he said, “didn’t hear you come in.” He came out the door, cleaning his hands on the once white apron he wore around his ample waist. “Fact, is, hardly nobody ever comes in here.”

“I don’t see why not?” Butler asked. “There sure are good smells coming from here.”

“Obliged to you for that, Mister,” the man said. “You must be a stranger in town. See, most local folks eat over to the Delmonico, or in one of the hotels. I keep stuff on the stove just in case, but most of the time me and my family ends up eatin’ it ourselves.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to deprive your family of anything—” Butler started to say.

“No, hey,” the man said, “I’m in business, after all. What’s your pleasure? I got some real good beef stew on the stove.”

His intention had been to only have some pie, but now he felt he needed to order something more.

“Sounds good,” Butler said. “I’ll try a bowl of that, and follow it with some pie.”

“Somethin’ ta drink for ya?”

“Coffee.”

“Comin’ up,” the man said, turning toward the kitchen. He stopped before entering, though, turned back. “You are gonna be here when I come back out, right?”

“I’m going to be right here waiting for that beef stew,” Butler said.

The man smiled and went through the curtain. Butler wondered how many folks had come in, ordered something and left before he came out. And why?

After he’d eaten two bowls of beef stew, a piece of apple pie, and drank a pot of coffee, Butler was even more confused about why someone would leave the café before eating.

The cook—who was also the owner and the waiter, a fellow named Hank—came out and asked him if he wanted anything else.

“I can’t eat another thing,” Butler said. He was glad he hadn’t put on a vest today. He’d have popped the buttons by now. “That was a fine meal, Hank.”

“Well, thank ya. I appreciate that…hell, I didn’t even ask you your name. I got the manners of a goat.”

“My name’s Butler, Ty Butler.” The gambler stood up to shake the cook’s hand.

“Well, hey—you’re the fella saved Jim Masterson’s bacon last night in the Lady Gay.”

“I guess you could say that.”

“And busted young Mike Deaver out of a poker game.”

Butler would’ve said word got around fast, but he still had that copy of the Times with the story in it. He knew he couldn’t have been the only one who read it.

“Looks like I made quite a name for myself my first day in town,” Butler said. “And I usually try to keep a low profile.”

“Well, I’m just pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Butler,” Hank said. “Any friend of the Mastersons is a friend of mine, yes sir. Real damn glad to meet ya.”

“You know all of them?” Butler asked, retrieving his hand before the man could crush it.

“Fact is, I got a passin’ acquaintance with Jim,” Hank said, “but I respect him as a lawman. He was a good one for years, here. I don’t know Bat, but I knew Ed before he got killed. That goes back a ways, when I was still a blacksmith.”

“Wait, wait…you went from being a blacksmith to a cook?” That explained the size of the man, who must’ve stood six two with a belly like a boulder.

“Sounds funny, I know, but I always preferred cooking. I saved up enough money to open this place. Only been here a few months. Tell ya the truth, don’t know how much longer I can last, but it’s sure gratifying to know you liked my cooking.”

“I think that was the best meal I’ve had in a while,” Butler said, “and I had a steak at the Delmonico last night.”

“Well, then, I am much obliged to ya,” Hank said.

“I’ll spread the word, Hank,” Butler said. “Maybe I can send some business your way.”

“I’d sure appreciate that, Mr. Butler,” Hank said. “I sure would.”

Butler nodded and worked his way to the door. He wanted to get out before Hank decided to shake hands again.