Out Of Time

Angelo

Well, the last half hour had been a hell of a time for Arthur Morgan.  Getting yelled at by a bartender, told information about Bronte by a drunk, hustled by a brat for money, having his satchel stolen, chasing after the thief, and finally catching him and threatening him for information...Arthur was now in a very sour mood.  He walked his way back towards the saloon and saw Dutch sitting on a bench.

"Where you been?" Dutch asked him.

"Gettin' robbed," Arthur replied with a mean look on his face.

"Who by?"

"A bunch of children..."

Dutch laughed a little as he stood up.  "I won't inquire anymore."

"But I found Mr. Bronte.  Seems to be some Italian mister big in town...everybody knows him but nobody wants to talk about him.  Apparently, he lives in a big house on Flavian Street, opposite the park."

"Good work."

"So what now?"

"We go pay him a visit.  I'll get John, you meet us there."

X===================X

It was dinner time and Sam was sitting in awe of the five course meal in front of her.  Appetizers, salad, the main course...even dessert.  It was stunning.  Jack was already digging into his spaghetti and Sam couldn't help but laugh at all the sauce he was getting on his face. 

"Jack, use a napkin please," Sam scolded.

Jack smiled and wiped his face clean.  Sam began to eat some of the appetizers, one of which was bruschetta.  Sam had always loved bruschetta and this one was probably the best she'd ever had.  Angelo Bronte was sitting at the opposite end of the table, studying Sam with his eyes once more.  It made her a little uncomfortable.

"How is the food?" he asked her.

"Good, thank you," Sam replied, averting her gaze to the food.  She took another bite of her appetizer and did her best to suppress a sound of utter satisfaction from the crunch and the taste.

"And you, Jack?  Do you like the spaghetti?"

Jack grinned with a mouth full of food.  "I love it!"

"Jack, don't talk with your mouth full," Sam scolded again.

"I'm sorry, Aunt Sammy."

Sam was in a dire mood, hence her grouchiness.  She sighed and pat the boy on the head.  "It's okay, kid.  I'm just not in a good mood right now."

"Why?  Is it because you miss Uncle Arthur?"

Sam chuckled with a nod.  "Yes.  Very much so."

Bronte cleared his throat.  "Is Jack really your nephew?"

"No...it just kinda stuck on me, I guess."

"I see."

"Papa Bronte, what is that?"  Jack inquired, pointing to a cream filled and elongated pastry on the table.

"That is a cannoli, Jack.  But you must eat your spaghetti before you can have any sweets.  And your salad, too.  Your aunt will not be satisfied until you've had some greens."

Jack pouted.  "But I hate vegetables."

Bronte chuckled and wagged a finger.  "It'll help you grow big and strong though.  Don't you want to grow up big and strong?"

"...Yes."

"Then you must eat it."

Jack huffed and took a bite of salad.  "Yuck!"