“Merci” smiled Ruby as she took the cash from the man across the counter and placed it in the register. “Enjoy the rest of your day” she said in English.
“Au revoir,” nodded the man as he exited the cafe.
Ruby hummed a familiar tune to herself as she cleared tables and wiped spills and crumbs. She’d been working in the cafe for nearly five years now, having stumbled across the opportunity after a moonshine delivery a few streets over. She’d learned the most basic French in order to communicate effectively with her customers, given that the cafe she worked in was a French cafe in the French-dominated area of the city. But most of her customers spoke English, and Ruby got by on the small French she knew. Marcel had tried to teach her some French a few times at the shack, but most of those times had been at the height of a moonshine-fuelled night, and it had been hard to get her mouth to pronounce the words properly with a tongue weighed down by liquor.
The hands of the clock on the wall behind the register creeped toward 4pm, and Ruby heard the familiar clunking of a walking cane accompanied by slow footsteps. She didn’t need to look up to know who they belonged to.
“I’ve told you every day for the last two years, old man - I am perfectly capable of closing the cafe by myself.” Ruby smiled, shaking her head in amused exasperation.
“And I’ve told you, Miss Ruby,” Joseph, the cafe owner and Ruby’s landlord replied as he entered the cafe. “I like to stay active, and this is about as much as I can do these days anyway.” He sighed as he sat down on a stool near the door.
“Well, if you call watching me from that stool on your ass “active”, then be my guest.” Ruby threw a sly smile over her shoulder at him as she carried the stacked plates and cups into the small kitchen behind the counter.
“Oh, ha ha,” said Joseph sarcastically. “Maybe when you move on from here you can find a gig at the travelling circus as a clown.”
“I’ll be sure to save you a front row seat.” Ruby said dryly.
The sound of a sweeping broom coming from the shop floor made Ruby smile and shake her head in bemusement. She stuck her head around the corner to see Joe using the broom as a makeshift cane, sweeping the floor in a shuffle-drag of his feet.
“You are impossible.” Ruby sighed in amusement. Joe dismissed her with a wave of his hand, and Ruby chuckled to herself as she went back to the dishes.
It had been the same routine for the last two years. Ruby didn’t mind Joe’s paternal hovering, and she recognised his need to still be involved in the cafe in some way and allowed him his need with grace. But the evenings in Saint Denis were getting cooler with the seasons change, and even now as Ruby finished the last tasks of closing the cafe, she watched as Joe sat back down on the stool with a little more stiffness in his joints than a few months ago, half of the cafe’s floor still unswept. Ruby made a mental note to come in a little earlier in the morning and finish the job, but said nothing to Joe. After all, he had given her a job, almost full reign of the cafe, and housed her for the last five years.
“Alright, come on old man,” Ruby sighed as she pulled the heavy metal key out from the money register and walked through the front door, holding it open as Joe made his way stiffly out of his stool and followed her out onto the street. Ruby locked up the cafe and placed the key into her small bag slung over her shoulder. The keys clinked against her revolver she kept in there. “Whisky?” She smiled at Joe.
“Oh, not tonight Miss Ruby,” Joe said tiredly. “Connie’s still not feeling well, I best be getting back. You have a good night.”
“Give Connie my love. I’ll be taking her up on that offer for her famous cassoulet I’ve heard so much about when she’s feeling better.”
“I’ll pass that on.” Joe patted Ruby’s hands endearingly, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Goodnight Miss Ruby.” He turned and made his way down the alley that led to the block of small units where he lived.
A short walk later, Ruby found herself nursing a glass of whiskey at the bar of Doyle’s tavern, watching a rat as it snaked its way behind the bottles of liquor on the back shelf of the bar. She was half listening to Gabe the barman’s story about a drunkard that had tried to rob him a few nights ago but had been so drunk, he’d knocked over a full bottle of beer in his haste to escape and slipped over, knocking himself out on the bar when his head met the wood of the bar, and half watching the rat as it bumped into half empty liquor bottles, threatening to send them to the floor.
Two men sat by the window, debating loudly over something Ruby couldn’t quite make out over the sound of the piano from the back room. Ruby turned her head to watch the men, and as she did, one of them pulled a small rusted pocket watch from his pocket and checked the time. He put his thumb and forefinger to his mouth and sent out a sharp whistle and the three men that had been sat around the table playing cards in the back room hurriedly made their way into the main bar, where they met the two men by the window. Ruby watched as the five men gathered their coats and headed through the door.
“What was that about?” She asked Gabe puzzledly.
“Ah, they must be heading down to the fight.” He answered absentmindedly, wiping a glass with an already filthy rag.
“What fight?”
“The bare knuckled backyard fight.” Gabe looked at her. “You’ve never heard?” He asked her when he noticed her confused expression. Ruby shook her head.
“Well, definitely illegal, and highly dangerous. Half the men do it for a quick buck, but they’re lucky if they make it past the second round alive. Anyway, shame I can’t make it to this one, it’s supposed to be a big one. They’re calling it “The Viper vs The Lone Wolf.” Gabe sighed.
“Interesting name.” Ruby took a swig of her whiskey.
“Yeah, well, this one guy - ‘The Viper’ - scrawny as anything, looks like he’d blow away if the wind picked up, but boy is he quick. That boy can throw a punch quicker than a lightning strike.”
“And this ‘Lone Wolf?’” Ruby asked, raising her eyebrow.
“Ah, now he’s an interesting one.” Gabe set down the glass and threw the dirty rag over his shoulder, brow furrowed in concentration. “Appeared out of nowhere a few months back. Hasn’t lost a fight yet. Big feller, they say he’s a black Indian.” Gabe sighed and shook his head. “I’ve seen the muscle behind those punches he throws. Would not wanna be on the receiving end of one of those, I’ll tell ya.”
Ruby, who had raised her whiskey to her mouth to take a swig, sputtered into her glass. Coughing, she wiped her mouth and looked at Gabe.
“Say that again” she choked. Her throat felt constricted, and not from the whiskey that now burned her throat.
“What, about the feller’s muscle? Why do you-“
“No. What did describe him as?”
“A black Indian? Some thought he was black, some thought he was Indian, apparently he’s both - Hey! Where you going?”
But Ruby was already out the door and halfway down the street when she spotted them. The five men were just rounding the corner when she sprinted after them, dodging other pedestrians and racing to get ahead of the approaching trolley before she really lost sight of them.
Is it him? Surely not.. the last Ruby had heard of him had been the last time she’d ever seen him, in that creaky bedroom in Van Horn. He’d told her he was leaving for Canada, and that was the last she’d ever heard of him. No letters, nothing in the newspapers, not even a whisper of anything that could be related to him. Until now.
Ruby kept her distance from the group of men as she followed them two streets over and down a lane leading into a large dirty courtyard. Ruby clutched her bag tight, one hand gripping her revolver inside her bag as she approached the small crowd of people that appeared to be creating a spectators ring. The crowd were cheering and jeering, and Ruby heard the unmistakable thuds of fists meeting flesh coming from the centre of the ring as she pushed her way through the crowd.
Spotting a small gap, Ruby seized her chance and squeezed her way through. She was one row back from the front now, and could almost see the fighters. More sounds of fists hitting flesh, a sharp grunt. The crowd surged with their jeer, and Ruby finally pushed her way into the front row, mud spattering her skirts as the two fighters skipped around the makeshift ring, and her mouth fell open, eyes wide as she gasped in shock.
Charles spun to dodge his opponent. The Viper was small, but faster than he was. Charles just needed to get a few more good hits in, and the fight would be his.
Charles threw a jab, but the Viper ducked. Too fast, he was too damn fast. The Viper threw a right hook at his face in response, and Charles ducked to the left to avoid it.
This would have been effective, and he may have been able to avoid the approaching left hook The Viper sent his way next, if the softest gasp hadn’t caught his attention. He knew that sound anywhere, even after all these years.
Charles’s gaze met hers, matching her wide eyes and shocked expression.
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