Free Neal Barrett Jr. by Dawn's Uncertain Light

doesn’t always take you where a tub of hot water’s close by. No sir, it surely does not.”
    Howie stopped and shook his head. “Listen, I got a little money, but I don’t reckon I can spend it on no hotel. I’ll find me another place.”
    “No, no, no.” Jones held up a hand. “I simply won’t hear of that. The rooms are paid for, Cory, you might as well use ’em. The Lansdale holds a place for me all the time.”
    “I appreciate the offer,” Howie said. “It ain’t that. I just don’t want nobody havin’ to pay my way.
    “The hotel’s got a fine cook to boot. Well, reasonably fine, I have to say. The man knows little about the proper way to season good food.”
    “I appreciate your kindness,” Howie said. “But I guess I better go my own way.”
    “A man can go his own way in a town like this,” Jones said, “and he might be fine, that’s true, On the other hand—on the other hand, now—a man might soon find himself among ungodly folk. That’s a fact. It’s an easy thing to do.”
    Howie wasn’t listening too close. He was thinking about Ricks. All the questions he’d asked, and the way he kept looking, trying to see right through his head. A wagon went by, loaded down with crates, six men straining at the ropes. Howie and the preacher jumped aside.
    “You know that army feller?” Howie asked. “Seemed as if he knows you.”
    “Met him once or twice. It’s not that big a town.”
    “He give you a fair price for them mounts?”
    The preacher’s face split in a broad grin. “You’ve a keen eye, Cory. Fair, that’s what you want to know? Well, fair is a word you have to study on some. The law says the army’s got first pick of mounts. So fair you might say is what the army wants to pay. You can’t keep a horse yourself, not if they want to buy it, so the answer would have to be—yes, I got a fair price for sure.”
    “How much you figure they’re really worth?”
    “Exactly two and a half times what I got,” Jones said. Howie had to laugh. “I don’t guess the army’s changed a lot. Fair’s just the way it used to be.”
    T he farther they walked from the bridge, the more the town seemed to grow. The wide, dusty streets were bordered on every side by clapboard buildings with high false fronts that made them look much bigger than they were. There were stores of all kinds—clothiers, butcher shops, hardware stores, and even a store that sold nothing but pastries and sweets. There was a place that sold vegetables and fruits indoors, instead of out in market stalls, and Howie had never seen one before. Walking on south, he saw signs with words he didn’t recognize Ritcher Jones told him these were merchants who dealt with ships—sailmakers, chandlers, and the like. Long wooden sheds lined the street, buildings that held cargo coming in and going out: And past one of these streets Howie caught a glimpse of tall masts and furled sails, a crisscross pattern sketched against the darkening sky.
    “Glory be,” Howie said beneath his breath, “if that isn’t something!”
    “You ever seen a ship before?” Jones said.
    “No, sir. Heard about ’em, though.”
    “We’ll walk down in the morning for a look.”
    “Is one of them the ship you’ll take to California?”
    “I expect so. That’s where most every ship’s going these days.”
    Howie watched the sight a long moment. “I expect I’d like to see one close. They let you do that?”
    “We’ll sure work something out.” Jones said. He smiled at Howie. “Don’t blame you at all. A ship’s a mighty exciting thing to see.”
    T he streets were lit with lanterns, more than Howie had ever seen at one time. There were buildings made of brick and stone, some of them four and five stories high. The structures themselves were fairly new, he could see, but the bricks and stones were worn, and had clearly been used in the past.
    “A city was here before,” Jones explained. “Name of Mobile, I believe. Built Alabama