All Bedlam Courses Past (part one hundred thirteen)

 

 

 

 

 

All Bedlam Courses Past

 

Chapter Four

Counterfeits

(part one hundred thirteen)

 

 

 

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Harrisonville was dry.

They had a smelter up the way, iron ingots, also coal got loaded here.

Couple houses took a boarder, Palmyra cheapest though if you weren’t staying.

Bout nobody stopped who didn’t work the boats…

Richard’s catfish returned, fried in cornmeal, with a side of peas. Cornmeal cakes came too, tops drowned—you couldn’t complain—in butter.

“Hey, ma’am, maple syrup?”

Another diner rose and carried across a tin of sorghum. Sat down closer. These folks of Harrisonville conspired to pressure the stranger in their midst. Richard dabbled his cornbread with all that was left in the tin, ate his fish and peas…

Then thought to ask: “I didn’t use yours up, did I?”

Time allowed the rumination that Allen wasn’t a hundred percent wrong. Richard could count on one hand the number of times he’d had dinner at someone’s house. I oughta learn manners, I might get places…

His tablemate said, “I was done.”

“I’m on my way to Cincinnati.”

Business or pleasure? Richard answered himself. “I don’t know if you’ve heard of Hendrick Allen.”

His new friend beckoned the waitress. “Coffee.”

I don’t know the name, Richard remarked to himself. What line’s he in? “Allen has an engagement October first, at the Shawnee Theatre.”

“Oh, I never get over to Cinci.”

Wake up! This was a hook. He offered a hand. “Richard Everard.”

The man shook it. “Bill McBeal.”

Bill needed to order something more, so Richard could pay with the ten, and while Bill was demurring, and he was insisting, embarrass the waitress into making change for it. “First time I ever been there. I come from Indiana.”

Bill’s eyes lidded themselves like a frog’s.

“Guess you don’t get over that way, either. Cookesville.”

“I heard of Cookesville.”

“They don’t close this kitchen up…?”

“No. Boats come in any hour.”

This was towards ordering another catfish, prompting McBeal to join in. But Richard’s stomach warned, nothing else for me, thanks.

“Now, I’m not from Cookesville, not born there. You never heard of Chambliss, Kentucky.”

“That’s not near Mayfield?”

“No, quite a ways over. South of Paducah.”

 

 

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Bedlam

All Bedlam Courses Past (part one hundred fourteen)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(2024, Stephanie Foster)