Authors: David B. Riley
She lowered her eyes and said nothing.
"Very well.” I grabbed the reins of her horse. “I'm going to leave your horse about two miles north of here. By the time you get to it, I'll be long gone."
"That is very generous,” she said.
"Damn right, it is. Should kill your hide."
I left her horse tied to a bush and proceeded on with Paul toward San Francisco. We stopped at a Sequoia grove along the way for a water break.
Paul was poking around in a stream, and I had leaned back against one of the enormous trees. Then a black carriage came up the road, drawn by two horses that looked a lot like Paul. Paul looked them over, then retreated to the other side of the stream. I stood, then realized the driver of the carriage was familiar.
It was Mabel, wearing a very stylish blue and white dress. The carriage stopped next to me. “Hi Miles."
Her arrival was unexpected, so I was my usual articulate self. “Well, hello."
She patted the seat next to her. “Get in."
"May I ask where we're going?"
She gave me a puzzled expression. “San Francisco, silly. Weren't you headed there?"
"Oh. Splendid.” I waved to Paul. He looked at me, then at the two horses. “Get over here,” I yelled.
"It's all right, Paul,” Mabel said. “You can tie him behind the carriage."
Paul came right over and let me tie him up. I climbed on.
"Miles, Janus may like to do it in the dirt. I, however, do not.” She yanked the reins, and we were off. “I prefer a bed with clean sheets, if that's all right with you."
I babbled out, “Uh, certainly."
"Oh, goodie,” Mabel said.
It wasn't very long before we were entering town. I noticed a fair number of eyes were on Mabel. I guess there weren't all that many stunning redheads driving carriages around town.
She seemed to notice it as well. “That's one thing I just hate,” Mabel said.
"What's that?” I asked.
"Being an angel, they'll forget me a few minutes after they see me.” She ran a hand through her crimson hair. “It's such a waste. They should remember me for years, like you will."
"I never thought of that,” I said—and that was the truth.
She turned into the courtyard of the Fairmont Hotel. A bellboy was only too happy to assist her from the carriage. She gladly accepted. “Can you arrange for someone to look after our horses?"
"Of course, madam,” he cheerfully said as he looked over the five dollar coin she'd handed him.
Mabel took me by the hand and took me inside. Her hand was so delicately soft, but she firmly steered me where she wanted me to go, the front desk. “This is Mr. O'Malley. We've reserved the Presidential Suite."
"Yes ma'am,” the desk clerk replied as he placed a registration card on the desk.
I filled it out and signed it. I'm sure he could not figure out how a rube like me was with a woman like Mabel. Another bellboy took the saddle and few belongings from my horse along with a trunk from the carriage and led us to our suite. I suspect he was wondering the same thing. Another five dollar coin from Mabel left him consoled and on his way.
When he'd gone, I said, “I have no way to pay for this."
She gave me one of her pretty, but slightly evil, smiles as she opened her purse and handed me a stack of coins. “San Franciscans are funny about paper money, so I brought coins, lots of them."
I sat down in one of the very nicely upholstered chairs and noticed a remarkable view of the bay. “Uh ... where do you get money in hell, exactly?"
She sat on my lap and placed her head on my shoulder. “It's counterfeit, Miles. But these rubes will never know the difference."
"Oh."
"They won't take paper money in San Francisco, but they'll take this stuff.” She went over to the bar, rummaged around, grabbed a cigar, and held it in her dainty hand. “I've missed you, Miles. So, I marched right into Nick's office. I didn't have to wait. Nobody ever wants to see him. And I took a cigar out of the box and lit it up."
That picture, of her smoking a cigar in front of Nick, almost made me laugh, but I contained myself. “Go on."
She stood and seemed to be trying to do a Nick imitation. “May I help you?” she said, sort of like Nick. She plopped herself on my lap. “Then I told him ‘I'm horny, Nick.'” She again stood and started talking with a deeper voice. “So? What concern is this of mine?” And she again sat on my lap. “I want someone sweet, Nick.” She stood, placed the cigar in her mouth, then dropped it to the floor, standing there open mouthed.
"Madam, I again ask you, what concern this is of mine?” Mabel returned to my lap, but this time curled up a little, like she might stay a while. “So, I said I want to go see Miles."
I sat there, with her on my lap, quite content, for a moment. Then my curiosity got the better of me. “Well, then what did he say?"
"Give him my regards.” She kissed me, really passionately. “And, here I am. Let's see if they have clean sheets on the bed."
"Yes, ma'am."
Mabel is so beautiful, so soft to touch; I was in a state of intoxicated delirium for the rest of the night. And, the next day, I awoke to find she was still snuggled up with me. I was a very happy fellow.
That never lasts for long.
"Miles, there's something you should know,” she whispered.
"What's that?"
"Well, there's some Indian woman climbing up the rain gutter, outside."
That jolted me back to reality. “What?"
"You heard me,” she said. Mabel jumped out of bed and went over to the window, still quite naked. She opened the window, tore the drainpipe away from the wall, then let it go. I heard a horrible crash a second later.
"It's only three stories, she's not seriously hurt. Too bad.” Mabel closed the window. “It's lunch time, Miles. Let's get dressed. They must have something good to eat here."
I had to protest. “Lunch time! That woman's trying to kill me, and you're worried about lunch?"
"I won't let her hurt you, Miles.” She paused to admire herself in a mirror, then went over to her trunk. She picked out a white and green dress with matching parasol. In no time at all, she was radiant and ready to go. She took me downstairs and out onto the bustling Montgomery Street.
"Where are we going?” I asked.
"Just down here,” she said. Mabel could take me by the hand and lead me anywhere and I would happily go along. We strolled along for four blocks. Every person who passed by us gave me that same
what does she see in him
look. Mabel and Buffy had both told me the same story, they'd forget her very quickly. That seemed hard to believe, somehow.
I was suspicious of our destination. We were greeted by a Chinese fellow. This was what is known as a hole-in-the wall. At first, I was skeptical. I did not know anything about the dishes Mabel ordered, but I soon discovered they were absolutely delicious. My plate was quite empty. I had not known the food in China was so tasty.
She paid the fellow with counterfeit money, and we departed. After we'd walked a block or so, she asked, “Did you enjoy that?"
"Absolutely."
"Good. Let's get back to the hotel and go back to bed."
"I'm not the least bit tired,” I replied.
"Good,” she said.
At around dusk, Mabel was brushing her hair as she decided what to wear for our evening out. Then she slammed down her brush and stood. “Damn, that dreadful woman is starting to get on my nerves."
"The Indian woman?"
"She's across the street with a rifle.” Mabel let out a sigh. “I have a good mind to treat her to an eternity in hell.” She thought for a moment. “I'd probably keep running into her.” Then she smiled. “I know.” She snapped her fingers and vanished in a shower of gold and silver sparks.
A few minutes later, she opened the door and came back inside, dressed in a stunning red and gold dress. “Have you ever been to the opera, Miles?"
"No.” I looked out the window, but I couldn't see anybody across the street. “What'd you do with her?"
"I thought you lived in Virginia City?” Mabel asked. “They have some of the best opera singers in America."
"I never went. I wasn't there very long. What did you do with her?"
Mabel declared, “She won't be bothering us tonight, Miles."
I repeated, “What did you do with her?"
"She's on a ship, bound for Hawaii. Ready Miles?"
I kind of liked her solution. “I'm ready."
"Yes, Lame Elk won't bother us tonight,” Mabel predicted.
"Lame Elk?"
"Well, I guess that's her name. She seems a little confused about that.
She wants to be Lame Elk, but her people named her Green Flower, at least in her language that's what it means. Let's go."
"How do you know this?” I asked.
Mabel sort of bit down on her lip. “Miles, I'm an angel. We know these things."
"Sure wish I knew why she wants to kill me,” I blurted out.
Mabel shrugged. “I'm an angel, Miles. I'm not God.” She kissed me on the cheek. “Don't worry about it. I'll protect you from her."
I didn't really understand why so many people would get dressed up to sit in a theater to listen to people screech like strangled cats in some foreign language for three hours. Mabel told me it was an acquired taste. Well, I doubt that I will ever acquire it. I was surprised they didn't have opera in hell. Of course, they might. I never really asked. Mercifully, it was finally over. Then I realized we were not headed in the direction of the hotel.
We went inside a large saloon. “I don't think you had a very good time tonight, Miles."
I ordered a beer. Mabel ordered one, too. A piano player was hammering out a contemporary melody on a poorly tuned upright. “It wasn't that bad,” I declared.
"You're sweet, Miles.” She slammed down an entire mug of beer, then ordered another one.
"Do they have beer in ... where you come from?” I asked.
"No.” She took a sip, then put down her mug. “It's nice to get away for a few days."
"I'm glad you could,” I said.
"Of course you are, Miles. I'm wonderful.” She finished the beer. “Let's go.” She tipped the bartender generously with counterfeit money and we started back for the hotel.
As we strolled along, I asked her, “Is there really no such thing as an otel?"
She laughed. “An otel? Miles, you ask the silliest questions. No, there's no such thing."
"I've stayed in them,” I pointed out.
"Just dumps, with missing letters on the sign, Miles. Wouldn't you rather stay in a nice suite like we have tonight?” Mabel asked.
"Well, I suppose so."
"Give me your money, lad,” some fellow demanded from behind me. I couldn't really see him very well, and he was making it a point to stay right behind me.
"Damn, first that Indian woman, now this,” Mabel snapped. “I'm starting to wonder about this town.” She turned around and grabbed a knife out of the tough-looking bloke's hand. Then she smacked him on the side of the head and knocked him out cold. “I swear, Miles, this town is really going downhill. It'll never be another Paris, not with ruffians on every street. This would never happen in Paris."
"I'll say.” I agreed, not that I'd ever been there. We returned to our suite. I sat on a splendid leather chair and tried to get my boots off.
Mabel came over and grabbed my boots. She had them off in seconds.
"Do you want to take a bath with me?"
"Oh, yes."
An attendant brought in towels and bath water. Then we both climbed into the tub.
"Miles, are you enjoying yourself?"
"Oh, yes."
"Good."
I suppose that most guys would wonder why this incredible angel was soaking in a bathtub with them. I didn't. She was here, and I figured I'd enjoy her until she left. And, I know Mabel and Janus might be regarded as fallen angels, but they'd both been absolutely wonderful to me. And, they were so beautiful, few mortal men could resist them, anyway—so I reasoned it was pointless to try.
There was one thing that kept coming up with Mabel, though. We'd soaked for about a half hour, when she asked me, “Am I prettier than Buffy?"
"Absolutely,” I answered, hoping Buffy would forgive me. I'm not sure if it was true, but that was the direction our conversation was going. “You're the prettiest thing I've ever seen."
She smiled. “You think I'm prettier than Janus?"
I was afraid this one might get around. Buffy and Mabel were unlikely to compare notes. Janus and Mabel were another matter. I tried to diffuse the situation. “I think you're about the prettiest angel I've ever seen. Of course, I've only seen three."
"That is not true,” she stated.
"How so?"
"You've met Death and Ralph, as I recall.” She splashed me with a handful of bath water.
"And, as I recall, you are much prettier than Ralph or Death."
She threw some more water in my face, then climbed out of the tub. “Did you ever finish that French novel?"
"No."
"Pity.” She took my hand in hers. “I think you're ready for some lessons."
"What sort of lessons?"
"Advanced lessons,” she whispered as she dragged me off to the bedroom. I never did find out what they call what she did to me, but I sure did like it.
I was so happy. And I was so comfortable. That's why it was such a start to wake to the sound of a sherry decanter lid being opened. And, having Death standing by my bed, that's something one does not get used to.
After my heart rate returned to normal, I asked, “Where's Mabel?"
"She had to leave,” Death told me. “She said to kiss you goodbye. If it's all the same to you, I'll pass."
"Quite all right,” I agreed.
"This is some place you got here,” Death said. “They've got four different types of liquor in your bar, so far."
"It was Mabel's idea,” I said. “I'm used to staying in otels, not these fancy hotels."
Death laughed. “Miles, you really amaze me sometimes."
"Where'd she go?"
"Back to hell.” He slugged down a substantial quantity of brandy.
"Some demon gave me a note to deliver.” He sort of gazed off. “Mmm ... Mabel.” He started for the window. “Thanks for the liquor, Miles.” With that, he was gone.