A sample chapter from...something I'm working on
No context!
Here it is:
Back to the Courthouse went Wendell, licking his fingers and wiping his hands on his pants as he entered the large building. A spacious entryway greeted him, as did a young man with messy hair and a shiny star pinned to his left breast.
“Help you?” the young law man asked.
“I’m needing to speak with the Mayor.”
“Been summoned?”
“Who?” Wendell asked, clearly failing to decipher the young man’s very thick accent. He wasn’t a local. From the sound of it, he was an Appalachian man, a hillbilly from Tennessee or West Virginia.
“So do you have some kind of an appointment?”
“I was told I needed to speak with him.”
Evidently that was taken as a ‘yes’ though Lodge hadn’t intended it that way.
“Alright I’ll take you up there.” the man said as he turned toward the spiraling stairway that led to the second floor.
“White!” a voice barked, stopping them both in their tracks. The young officer looked back to see—approaching from deeper in the building and flanked by a pair of US Marshalls—Hank McGraw, now shackled at his wrists.
“That’s Acting-Sheriff White to you, McGraw.”
“Acting Sheriff.” McGraw replied with a snort of mockery. “Deputy, you mean.”
“I mean actin—what do you want, anyway? I’m in the middle of conducting important business on behalf of the Mayor.”
McGraw’s eyes slid from the Deputy to Wendell, and though his expression changed slightly, it wasn’t enough for Lodge to know what he was thinking.
“What’s so special about him?” McGraw asked, looking at Wendell but addressing Deputy White.
“Whatever it is, it’s more special than a common thief.” White retorted
“I returned the coin, didn’t I?” McGraw asked smugly. “I’m still waiting on my reward for bringing it back.”
“You don’t get a reward if you was the one who stole it in the first place!”
“Didn’t see nothing about that in the rules. I read ‘em myself in the paper.”
“Well, funny thing about that,” White said with a smirk, “the rules don’t apply to criminals, anyway.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” McGraw fired back before White could catch his clumsy phrasing.
“Take him to his cell.” White said with a dismissive wave. The officers on either side of their prisoner grabbed his arms and led him out of the courthouse, to the jailhouse sitting in the valley behind them.
“Can we stop by O’Manny’s first?” McGraw asked his handlers. “I wanna say hello and goodbye to June.”
Lodge’s lip curled with disgust but his attention was diverted before he could think too long about it. “Ready?” White asked,. There was something about the way McGraw looked at him before leaving; it didn’t stir up a pleasant feeling, that’s for sure.
“Yeah.”
Up the stairs they climbed, reaching a more modest second floor, with lower ceilings and doors lining both sides of the hallway. They walk past them all and headed for the large double doors at the end of the corridor. “Just a sec.” White said, leaving Wendell in the hallway while he slipped inside.
A few quiet seconds passed before White returned. “Good?” Lodge asked.
White’s face was uncertain. “You can go in, but make sure you don’t mention his cat.”
“Or his mustache.” Wendell said, remembering what Bill had told him.
“Oh shoot yeah, for sure don’t mention that. But his cat’s in there now and it’s…just don’t mention the cat.”
“What’s the deal with this guy? Is he some kind of eccentric?”
“Don’t mention that either.” White said hastily. He couldn’t say anymore before a voice on the other side of the door spoke.
“Alright send him in.”
White nodded a non-verbal ‘good luck’ and left Lodge to it. Wendell exhaled, knocked twice, and opened the door.
The cat was right in front of him.
“Good mor-oh my.” Lodge said, nearly stepping on the feline. Like all cats, the jerk animal refused to move out of the path of Lodge’s stride. Instead, Wendell shuffled and hopped, nearly fell over, and regained his balance in time to stumble awkwardly toward the desk before him.
The man behind the desk rose to shake his hand. He was wearing a long black coat with a silver pin on the lapel: A shiny letter-M with the words “MAYOR OF TOWN” etched in a ring around the letter.
His hair was cut short around his ears and the back of his head, but was a bit longer on the top, perhaps to hide early-onset baldness. His eyes were tiny, almost perpetual squints, and when he spoke his mustache fluttered like a perturbed owl.
What a mustache this was.
It was almost impossible. It looked like someone had glued the end of a broom to his face. Wide and dirty-blonde, to match the hair on his head, it was so massive it covered almost the entire lower half of his features; only the faintest hint of a chin poked free from under the hairs.
“I’ve heard about you.” The Mayor said. His voice was raspy, barely above a whisper. His words were a statement but his inflection made it sound like a question; needless to say, Wendell was thrown off a bit.
“You—have you?”
“I know all the things that happen in this town, Mr. Wendell Lodge from the train.”
“From the train? Oh…yes, I guess most recently from the train. Before that I was from New York City.”
“New York City.” he said, raising his head as if lost in thought. “The city of dreams.”
“Uh…I’ve never heard that before. But I guess you could say that.”
“What brings you to my office this morning?” he asked abruptly.
“Well as you know, I’ve come here from New York, and am looking to bring some excitement to this town. Now I have a plan—”
“Tell me about excitement.” the Mayor asked, cutting him off. It was an oddly-phrased request and before Wendell could even continue the Mayor added onto it: “My name is Jim Turken.”
“Nice to meet you.”
Turken reached out a hand for him to shake, which is customary after exchanging names, though in this case it was a bit odd since they already shook hands earlier.
Everything about this guy is weird, okay?
“My friends call me Jimbo because my grandmother was French, but you can call me Mr. Mayor. I think that has an air of dignity befitting this office, yes?”
“Yes.” Wendell replied, unsure what else to say. There was something about the way the Mayor spoke, aloof and almost disinterested in tone, yet his words made it seem like he was the most important man in the world.
“You want to bring excitement to our town. Yes, I heard from Manny.”
“The bartender? You talked to him?”
“I talk to him every morning. He trims my mustache.”
“Every morning?”
“Every morning.”
Wendell found that hard to believe but he wasn’t in a position to challenge him on it, so he let it go. “Right. Well my plan is this…”
Lodge broke down his plan, at least as far as he knew it at the time, taking care to emphasize that it was all theater, no one would really be getting hurt, and the goal was entertainment not deception. “We don’t want anyone getting in trouble, obviously.”
“A little trouble is like a pinch of salt on a roll of dough.” the mayor chimed in. The analogy meant nothing to Wendell but it was said with enough conviction, he thought better than to question it. “Tell me what’s in it for the Mayor’s office.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“There’s a way things are done here. This is Nevada, not New York City. I’m sure things are more square and honest in the quaint town you come from but—”
Wendell made the mistake of laughing, assuming that the Mayor was joking. He had, after all, called New York City a square and honest town. “Sorry. Continue.”
“Out here, nothing is free.”
“Well, I guess that’s the rub. If this works, everyone in town will benefit. Tourism will increase, business will flourish, money will pour into every apparatus of Helena.”
“I love it.”
“You do?”
“That expression: ‘That’s the rub.’ How clever. You have a way with words. I think we should work together on this.”
“Excellent.” Wendell said. He was a bit surprised by the fact that his proposal apparently lived or died on his ability to impress the Mayor with a common figure of speech, but he wasn’t about to press the matter. “I’ve already got one person on board. I’m sure there are plenty of people around here who can spare some time to learn some parts. We can—”
“I do have a request.”
“Oh…kay.”
“Someone will need to advertise our little enterprise.”
“Yes, I’ve been thinking about that too. I know a man who rides the rails doing town by town advertisement. I can try and find him, and—”
“Too complicated. You should use Dennis.”
“Dennis?” I don’t think I know Dennis.”
“Dennis is my brother. He’s got a sharp eye for attracting attention. A real keen sense of where the action is.”
“Well the action’s here, so that part’s covered.” Lodge quipped, dryly. The Mayor responded with a thunderous belly laugh, rearing back and holding his side, as if he’d never heard anything funnier. Wendell just looked at the cat, who was equally perplexed.
“Ahhh. That is true isn’t it. Very good. Dennis it is.”
“Oh, well I really think my friend Whittle is the right—”
“Don’t trouble yourself over it; I’ve already sent word for him.”
“You have? How?”
“All you need to do is scour the ranks of our fine town.” The Mayor was on his feet as he spoke, which clued Wendell in to mimic his movements. Before he knew it, Turken’s arm was over his shoulders, escorting him to the door. “There are many wonderful people here. Even the Irish are tolerable.”
“Oh my.”
“Prepare your scripts and casts. When Dennis returns to town, I’ll send him your way.”
“About that, I still think—”
“Good morning, then!” The Mayor said happily as he pushed Lodge out the door and closed it behind him.
“Well…at least the hard part’s over.” Wendell said to himself.
Foolishly.
And that’s chapter four. I’ve already written fifteen chapters and I have about five or so more to go, plus some final pieces of art.
I hope to have it all done before Christmas.