As I began to formulate my plan, my mind, it kept circling back to Ambrose… Is he alright? What was his plan? Would he make it out alive?
"Focus," I said aloud to myself. First step: get off the street. Second: find somewhere to think.
I ducked behind the closest building, which happened to be the Saloon. The scent of liqueur hung like morning fog after a hot, humid night.
Right. I had less than twelve hours to look for a new job. Grab my stuff from Vellum's inn. Then… Find a new place to live. Survive until 11. Crowe was watching. Or at least, one of his ghosts was. That meant every move had to look purposeful, all but the ones meant to save my life.
I sighed, rubbing my eyes, as I leaned up against the building for support. The weight of the day already dragging at me. I was not only physically tired, but mentally and emotionally as well. I got to my feet and casually brushed myself off. There weren't many places for me to go… Not that many places where I could try and get a job. Half of them didn't open until… Well… Several hours from now. The most obvious, and well, dumbest place to start was the mercantile. At the very least, I can find a friendly face there. And so, without any further thought or consideration, my feet started in that direction, taking the rest of me with them.
Quinn Mercantile was thee place that supplied the people of this small town with everything they could ever need. The building itself was a small thing. But it had a lot of character. It was a squat building, as old as the town itself. Probably one of the first few buildings built, after the Jail and Saloon of course. It was originally whitewashed for appearance, like most buildings in town, but time and sun had faded it to a ghost of what it once was. Ambrose gave up on it a few years ago. Stating that he was just too old to bother with it anymore.
But walking through the door? A different story entirely. The first thing that hits you is the scent. Mesquite, thick and rich, soaked into the walls and floorboards. Earthy and warm, it clung like memory. A reminder of winters past, when the fireplace kept the chill at bay and warmed hearts. As you continue to look around, you notice the magic that Ambrose was able to create in this space. Yes, it was small, but Ambrose had managed to use the space in the best possible way. The magic? Making this space seem larger than it is. For this reason, I think Ambrose is a secret genius.
As I walked through the aisles, my heels thonked against the worn hardwood, soft from years of boot traffic and impromptu checkers matches that broke out whenever the men got bored. Honestly? Aside from Ambrose, the floors are my favorite thing about this place. Made of mesquite—what else? They help to keep the atmosphere so grounded.
With its rich reddish-brown color and the grain of the wood so beautifully displayed, if I ever have a home someday, I want my floors to be mesquite.
With each step I took, each thonk, and scuff, I made my way through the store, picking up random canned goods before finally making my way to the front. I could hear Ambrose shuffling around in the back.
"Be with you in a minute." He called from the curtain. I heard a wooden box close, a key turning the tumblers of a lock. He must have been securing some money in the back in preparation for a deposit.
Honestly I didn't know what I was doing here. Perhaps I just wanted to see a familiar face? Though we just saw each other about an hour ago… I felt stuck…. Like moving forward was going to be impossible. Maybe it would be. I still didn't really have a plan. Vague thoughts of joining Sammy in Kentucky crossed my mind. I don't need to be his burden.
A hand grabbed the curtain that lead to the storage area. A normally friendly but now drenched with worry face of my dear friend Ambrose emerged from behind the curtain.
"Oh. Anna…" He quickly smiled, a drastic change in his appearance and expression. "What can I do for you?"
I looked down at the items I had placed on the counter, then back at him. "Just picking up a few things I need." I tapped the counter, not impatiently, but with nervous curiosity. I look him in the eyes. "I don't suppose there is any point in asking if you have any work for me here at the shop?"
He frowned and shook his head. "I'm sorry Anna. I just don't have any need for help . Right now. Business has been… Slow… Lately."
I nod. "Don't worry, I'm sure I'll find something somewhere."
He finished ringing up my items, and I started reaching for my purse. Before I could touch it, he cleared the total from the machine.
"Ambrose-" I started to protest.
He cut me off. "Anna, you are going through a hard time right now. This is a small gift from father to daughter. Take it."
I knew better than to argue. So, I packed all the items up, made my way around the counter and wrapped my arms around him in a way that felt as though, even though it wasn't, that it was going to be goodbye forever. While I didn't know for sure, I did know where his daughter lives. It was likely that he would go and stay with her, as I have been trying to get him to do for years now. I would see him again. "Thank you for everything Ambrose." I whispered.
"Go before you make an old man cry…" He chuckled.
With nothing more to say or do. I grabbed my bag and made my way back out into the dust and sunlight.
The sun hit me square in the face as I stepped out onto the weather worn porch. I squinted and used my free arm to block it from my eyes. I was scanning the town for my next stop. My next "Hope for salvation." When my eyes fell on the devil himself, and his cronies. Crowe smiled as he waved his fingers at me. I rolled my eyes and continued my merry way down the street. Let him watch. Let him smile that snake's grin. I wasn't scared. Well, not exactly. Fear is loud. This was quieter. Heavier. Like the feeling you get when you know a storm's about to hit but the sky still looks blue.
I kept walking, a prayer lodged somewhere between my teeth. Whatever came next,
I'd meet it on my feet.