Western Omelette

The Package

Alicia Simpson sat at one of the depot's tables, fingers laced in her lap and attention on the door, awaiting Hoke Easterly. She glanced about the room, wiped a finger across the table, and made a face, dusting her fingers together. A woman had come from the back and offered her coffee which she politely refused, explaining she was just waiting. As the woman turned away, the door opened and the driver, Ned, and Hoke all entered one after another.

"Miss Simpson," Hoke removed his hat and sat in a chair beside her, grinning. "It sure is a treat to finally meet you. Harold tell you anything new I should know?"

"Such as?"

"Uh- well- I don't know. Just wondered I suppose." He coughed into his fist and smiled an apology. "I hope your journey wasn't too rough gettin' here."

"It did have its moments." She smiled briefly, and he swallowed hard at the clearness of her eyes and complexion.

"Well, look – I've made two arrangements for us, and I want you to choose the one you feel best about."

He shifted on the chair and looked about the room. "One is uh, I helped the depot manager here, and in payment, we can have one of those rooms over there for the night. You can rest and we can get a fresh start in the morning, or-" he watched her expression freeze, "or we can take the stage to Nugget today – means another two or three hours ride – but you can get a proper hotel room where you can- uhm, you know – relax."

"I understood from your letters you had a place here?" Blunt.

"I do, I do – well not right here. It's outside Nugget a few miles."

"Then why did you meet me here and not in town?" Suspicion bubbling.

Hoke puffed his cheeks and blew out a breath. "Since my last letter to Harold, things changed."

"Changed how?" Her lips thinned.

"My place was burned down." He made a silly face and twirled his hat in his hands.

"Burned- someone burned your place down? Why?"

"It's a long story, Miss Simpson--"

"Alicia. I think our arrangement entitles you to call me Alicia, Rodney."

"Oh, sure . . . about that. I don't really go by Rodney. It is my name," he hurried on, receiving a glare this time. "It's just that everyone calls me Hoke – another story. So . . . what do you think?"

"I think Hoke is an unusual choice." Flat and cold.

"No, I mean about the arrangements?"

"I think I would like to know your plans for further accommodation, since your place has burned down."

"Plans . . ."

Ned came to the table and announced that the stage would be leaving in ten minutes.

"Miss Sim- Alicia, I have no plans. It just happened two days ago." Hoke looked miserable, most of his great ideas went up in the smoke of his cabin, and now he was in danger of losing this latest one.

"I think I would like to take the stage . . . Hoke . . ." She stood and gathered her small handbag, waiting.

"Uh- okay. Okay I'll- let me get you aboard." He took her arm, let go quickly, then took it again, leading her out to the waiting stagecoach. The driver looked at him, eyebrows raised.

"I uh- I'll follow on my horse I guess. He couldn't keep up if I tied him on."

"Suit yerself, sonny." He snapped the rains and shouted at the team, steering them out of the station.