Starbuckles 1875

I don't need no stinkin' translation

First off - I wrote the following piece as a response to this post by Sagra:

Silencio.

If you read “Silencio”, you’ll see where I’m coming from. Enjoy! (you can click right on her page and select “translate” to the language you like)

I tied up my horse, Jack, on the rail outside the Cafe de Starbuckles on Main Street. The dust from my arrival was still settling as I got up on the plank sidewalk and headed for the door to what a huge billboard on the edge of the town advertised as “the best dang coffee this side of the Mississippi”.

My boots were caked in red dirt from the mining site I’ve come from. I ain’t seen good coffee, good food, or a good woman in five months. But I got a bag full of gold to take to the assay office.

A spotty-faced kid with ginger hair and a torn plaid shirt approached me just before I was going to open the door to the Coffee House/Saloon. Sweet Jesus, this is 1875, why the fuck is this kid such a mess?

I gave him a silver dollar and instead of smiling, he started to cry. Before I could say anything, he ran to a wagon on the other side of the street and gave it to his Mama. I swear that the horses’ heads swiveled towards me and nodded. Horse sense.

Inside it smelled like roasting coffee beans and fresh bread baking. At the counter I was met with a smile from a young woman who’d already lost a few teeth. But she had a smile that warmed my heart.

“Cafe Latte” I said.

“Yes sir, how about a fresh scone to go with that?” she replied.

“Maybe some carrot cake?” I said.

“So sorry, we are out of carrot cake. That woman on the sofa just took the last piece, God Bless her.”

I looked over towards the sofa. The most beautiful woman I have ever seen was sitting there. She was wearing a long black dress, and I reckoned she’d just lost someone precious.

“Your Latte, Sir” said the counter girl, wiping her hands on her apron and still smiling. I gave her an extra silver dollar.

Looking around, there wasn’t much seating. Just a couple of really uncomfortable chairs to set in, and the other half of the sofa with the woman in black. Not a lot of choice, but, hell, what can it hurt to ask her to share the space. She can say no.

“Pardon me Ma’am, mind if I sit here and enjoy my coffee?”

She smiled and gestured to the seat.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you’re wearing a black dress. You lost someone today?”

I didn’t know if she would even reply, but I thought it was worth asking, in case she needed to get something off her chest.

“Señor, estoy solo en este momento. He perdido al amor de mi vida. No puedo llorar. Solo puedo sentarme aquí y lamentar mi pérdida. Si entiende, debe ser un caballero. Rezo para que lo sea.” she replied after a pause.

“Ma’am, I’ll be a gentleman for you. I’ve been in the territories for the last five months and I ain’t talked to anyone all that time. So, forgive me if I have difficulty with this conversation.”

“Señor, no es necesario conversar. Por favor, siéntese conmigo, comparta mi pastel de zanahoria y disfrute su café. Aprecio su compañía.” she said softly, as she passed her plate of cake to me.

“Gracias, Señora.” I replied and sat with her for an hour. I had suddenly joined the reality of the wider world. This is 1875 and this is how the world is. I was beginning to shed the red dirt that had encapsulated me for the last five months.

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