Summer Lightning (7 page)

“You said your father lives with you?”

“Good ol’ Dad. You’ll like him. Miss Parker. But don’t believe half of the stories he tells. He didn’t really save General Grant’s life, or lead the charge at Gettysburg. He was shot by a woman while scavenging meat for his troop.”

“For which side did he fight in the late war?”

Jeff scratched his head, giving a slow grin. “That’s not real clear. Sometimes he says it’s one, and then the next thing you know it’s the other. I remember him going off in a blue uniform, that’s all I can tell you.”

He glanced up. “Here comes our food. Now, you tuck into that, Miss Parker. You still look kind of peaky.”

Though the steak smelled delightful as it spluttered next to the white mounds of potato, the flavor was gamy and the texture tough. Edith’s jaw ached after the first bite. Nevertheless, she nodded her approval when Jeff asked her how she liked it.

“Well, you’re wrong, Miss Parker. This is no good.”

He raised his hand to summon the waiter. “Lookee here, son. You go and tell the cook to put these steaks back under his shoes. What’s the matter with ‘em? Well, I’ll tell you. I respect old age too much to want to eat it for lunch. And this young lady was looking forward to something a sight tastier than this old boot.”

The waiter blustered a little and then said, “I’ll get Mr. Waters for you, sir.”

“Good, you do that.”

Edith whispered, “It’s all right, Mr. Dane. I don’t mind. There’s no need to make a fuss.”

“Never you mind, Miss Parker. It’s an insult to serve meat like this to a God-fearing cattleman.”

But when Mr. Waters, a florid gentleman with a stomach his watch chain almost failed to span, came over, Jeff stood up, his grin spreading. Shaking hands, he said, “Here I am again, Jack. And ready to prove my point.”

“You don’t give up easily, Jeff. I respect that in a man. What’s the trouble?”

“Sit down and take a bite, man.”

His cheeks abloom with confidence, Mr. Waters did as Jeff asked. Like Edith, he soon began chewing more and more slowly, each grind of his teeth a greater effort. He fought to swallow his bite. “So all right, that particular steak is a mite . . . stiff. But I’m sure . . .”

“You want to try the young lady’s?”

“As they came from the same side of beef . . . But you get the occasional tough cow from the wholesaler. Could happen to anyone.”

“And your cook takes the tougher stuff and gets a kickback from the supplier, or charges you for the prime stuff and puts the difference in his own pocket,”

“That happens too.”

Some vulgar shouting echoed from the saloon, words no gentleman would utter. Mr. Waters glanced at Edith, a frown drawing down his heavy brows. “Beg your pardon, miss. Gotta take care of that one of these days.”

“Look, Jack,” Jeff said in a reasonable tone. “You want to attract a better class of customer, right? You want the society ladies to eat here, and to bring along their high-rolling husbands. You want the businessmen, the big boys, to make their deals here and drop the cash they carry around.”

“Sure, that’s what every restaurateur wants.”

“So stop serving meat that the customer needs to cut with a hacksaw. This cow’s been driven from Texas, losing weight and fat with every step. He’s lean, so lean that all the flavor’s gone, ‘cause all he’s had to eat is scrub.”

“True.”

“Now take one of my beefs. He’s been living on lush Missouri grass for two years, never having to walk further than the stream running through the bottom of the field. Then for the last six months of his life, he lives like a prince on the finest grains and corn. He’s fat, Jack, fat and contented.”

“I kinda envy him,” Jack said, his broad hand resting on his stomach. Edith nodded in agreement.

Jeff went on, “Then he takes a little ride on a train. The track’s laid, you know. Then he’s put down humanely at my brother-in-law’s place at the St. Louis stockyards. Harlan also takes care of the aging, and he’ll see you get what you pay for.”

“That’ll make a change, all right.”

Jeff put his hand on Mr. Waters’ shoulder and gave him a searching glance. “And when you serve your customers,” he said, “they’ll get a steak so juicy, so tasty, you know they’ve got to come back for more. ‘Specially as every other restaurant in town’s still serving Texas beef.”

“All right ... all right.” Mr. Waters pushed himself up from the table. “You’ve sold me. But I want exclusive rights in St. Louis. Let’s say, for a year. By that time, either I’ll have the best place in the city, or be bankrupt. And dang me, if I don’t close down the bar!”

The two men shook hands again. Mr. Waters nodded to Edith before returning to his office. Jeff sat down. “Sorry about that,” he said, shaking out his napkin. “Shouldn’t deal in front of a lady.”

“Don’t apologize. I was fascinated. Is that why you came to St. Louis?”

“I’ve had this idea for a while. But I’ve been stymied by the greed of men like Waters who want to hang on to a dollar.

Longhorns are big critters, cheap to raise, and so cheaper to buy. On the other hand, that Texas beef is usually as bad as can be. That’s why you’ve got to stew so many cuts of meat to make it eatable. Either that or see a dentist regular.”

The waiter came back, carrying two new platters. “Here you are,” he said, laying them down. “You should have told me you were friends of the boss.”

In a very few minutes, Edith laid down her knife and fork. Sitting back in her chair with a soft sigh, she smiled dreamily at Jeff. ‘That was wonderful.”

Jeff glanced at her plate, empty and shining, then down at his own with half a steak to go. His eyes showed his mirth. Edith snapped upright. “I beg your pardon. It’s dreadfully rude to gallop through a meal.”

“Not at all. It’s a pleasure to watch a lady enjoying her food. Most just pick and nibble, you know.”

Edith launched upon a more elaborate apology. She did not want to admit to Mr. Dane how deep her hunger ran. Actually, she could have eaten another steak with all the trimmings and never have felt a moment’s discomfort. After a moment, Edith realized that she had lost Mr. Dane’s attention.

Knowing it was rude, she turned in her chair to look over her shoulder. What was he staring at?

A blonde girl, tall with an elegant figure, was speaking rapidly to Mr. Waters. Edith stared at the girl with as much attention as Mr. Dane did. A goddess could not have been more lovely, with her beautiful figure, fine bust and swanlike neck. Under her draped mantle, she was dressed in the extremely tight clothing that the latest fashions dictated, with the lashings of ruching and feathers that only the most majestic figure could carry off.

Edith glanced toward Mr. Dane. “She’s lovely. Is that Mrs. Waters? If so, I must thank her personally for her kindness.”

“What? No, that’s not, definitely not Mrs. Waters.” Miss Parker’s interested eyes drew more from him against his will. “Her name is Sabrina Carstairs.”

“Do you know her?”

He didn’t want to lie, but he wished he hadn’t gotten started.

“Oh, yes. That is, I knew her once. Briefly. Hardly spoke at all.”

The blonde threw her hand in the air, obviously exasperated. She twirled away from Mr. Waters and began to walk as rapidly as her tight skirt would allow, with the plain intention of never darkening this door again. As she passed their table, Jeff ducked his head, becoming blatantly interested in his meal.

Edith, however, openly watched the girl as she stalked past. She’d never seen so truly beautiful a girl before, though she’d often wondered what it must be like to be one.

Suddenly, the girl stopped, as if she’d thought of several good things to say to Mr. Waters. But instead of walking back to him, she said, “Why, Jefferson Dane, is that you?”

“Hello, Sabrina,” Jeff said looking up.

     Chapter 5

“Been in town long, Jeff?”

“I’m here on business. I’ll be going home in a day or two.”

“That’s too bad. I would have liked to have seen more of you. Talk over old times.” Her smile was slow, deliberately intriguing. Jeff shifted in his chair and rubbed the back of his neck. He avoided glancing at Edith. What she must be thinking!

“I’ve found a new place to live, on Elm. Not so fancy as the place I was in when you and I were . . .”

“Times are hard,” he said, cutting her off quickly.

“Seems that way. ‘Cept in the cattle business. It doesn’t look like that boom will ever end.”

Jeff remembered that Sabrina had possessed, in addition to an inviting body, a sharp, almost male mind. She certainly understood the laws of supply and demand. “Like everything else,” he said, “it has drawbacks.”

He saw that Edith’s bright eyes flickered between the buxom blonde and himself. She seemed as excited and involved as though she were watching a play. He only hoped she was too innocent to guess what his friendship with Sabrina had been.

“You know, of all the things I miss . . .” Sabrina started to say, putting her hand on his shoulder.

The waiter had come over to clear the plates. Reaching for Edith’s plate, he knocked over her cup of coffee, sending the spray across the statuesque woman’s light-colored wrap. Miss Carstairs leaped backwards, brushing at her mantle frantically.

“Oh, you . . . you silly . . . God, what a mess!”

Edith snatched Jeff’s napkin from under his hand and, with her own, began to mop at the gleaming silk and beading. “It’s all right—I don’t think it will stain.”

“Not stain! Are you kidding?” She threw off her mantle and thrust it into the apologetic waiter’s hand. “You’re going to have to buy me a new one.”

Still helpful, Edith said, “Perhaps you can dye it brown.”

“Brown? I wouldn’t wear brown if it was the last color. . . .” She twisted to look down the rear breadth of her skirt. “Oh, good, at least it didn’t splash my dress.”

Sabrina snatched her mantle back from the waiter’s hand. “Never mind. I’ll give it away. It was getting old anyway.”

The waiter nodded dumbly, even his mustache drooping in his misery. He slunk away without a backward glance. Sabrina stared after him in exasperation.

Jeff said, “I’m glad you weren’t hurt, Sabrina. Good thing that coffee was cold.”

“Ah, heck. It’s not worth fussing about- Kind of thing that could happen to anyone.” She glanced after the waiter again. “Poor dope.”

She spent a few more minutes at their table. To Jeff’s relief, they talked about her royally pampered cat, and her new house, not about the past.

Always aware of Edith listening, after a few minutes Jeff said, “Interesting. Well, we have to be going.”

“Wait for the bill, boy. Can’t rook the waiter. Look what he did for me.” She patted the puff of hair behind her head.

As he stood, he said, “You always look fine, Sabrina. No matter what.”

“Why, thank you, Jeff. I’ve often thought you were the finest gentleman I ever met up with. You know, I wrote you a letter not too long ago.”

“I never got it.”

“I figured that. A gentleman like you would have answered, one way or the other. But if you happen to get it, do me a favor and rip it up. It’s not important now.”

“All right. I will. Well, we better be getting along.”

Sabrina glanced at Edith. ‘Thank you, whoever you are. You mopped that coffee up right nice.”

“My pleasure, Miss Carstairs. I’m sure it won’t stain.”

Edith stopped him from calling a cab, saying she’d enjoy the walk. She said nothing else, and Jeff didn’t break the silence. He tried to think of a way to reassure Miss Parker that he wasn’t a heartless libertine, using a woman only to discard her when his appetite had been satisfied. It was just his bad luck, he decided, that sent Sabrina to Waters’ place while he was there.

Miss Parker was probably planning to back out of their business deal at this very moment. All her doubts about his intentions must have come back. The thought filled him with discontent. She might be a naive, funny little thing, but somehow he had faith in her. Besides, she needed him a whole lot more than he needed her. The same instinct that made him collect strays was working on her behalf.

Edith sighed and Jeff looked at her with an apology on his lips. “I’m sorry about that. Miss Carstairs . . .”

“Isn’t she beautiful? All that golden hair . . . she seemed very good-natured too, which is not, I believe, a usual thing with really lovely girls. So often they become proud and vain.”

“Uh .  .  .”

“It’s become so warm now, I don’t think she’ll need her wrap after all.”

“Look, I don’t want you to think ... I don’t mean to . . .”

He received the full impact of her happy smile. It staggered him to realize she hadn’t been worried about his evil intentions at all. “It was so
nice,
I thought.”

“What was?” Was she being sarcastic?

“The waiter and Miss Carstairs.”

“Having coffee spilled over you is nice?”

“No, of course not. I mean, they’re so terribly in love. It’s nice. Not the sort of thing one sees every day, not even in my line of work.”

Despite the people jostling past them on the sidewalk, Jeff stopped. The brisk clip-clop of the passing horses and the shouts of the drovers faded. He could even ignore the newspaper boy yelling his head off a few feet away.

“What? That’s nonsense. Sabrina wouldn’t give the time of day to a man who couldn’t afford to give her the best.”

“The best?”

“Jewelry, furs, horses ... the best of everything. You should have seen where she lived before. It’s a good thing I only knew her for a month or she’d have driven me into the poorhouse.”

“I suppose she felt she had to look out for her future. I have often thought a life of shame must be a precarious one. Of course, my life has been thoroughly proper and yet it turned out to be risky in the extreme.” She gave him a direct look. "That keeps me from looking down my nose at Miss Carstairs.”

Jeff was left gaping. He never thought she’d look at it like that. Any usual woman would have been having hysterics at actually speaking to a “fallen angel.”

Edith tugged lightly at his arm. “We are blocking the sidewalk, Mr. Dane.”

He walked a few steps on. “Wait a minute. What about the waiter? You don’t mean that Sabrina and that ... I can’t even remember what he looks like. There’s no way those two are . . .”