“I’ll do my best.”
I walked down the stairs and out to the street. The high elevation gave the shadows a slightly purplish hue. All about me the life of Reno flowed by in a steady stream. Reno claims to be the biggest little city in the world, and it might also claim to be the most distinctive. There’s an individuality about Reno which hits you right between the eyes: cowpunchers clumping along the sidewalks in high-heeled riding-boots, disillusioned, bitter women waiting for their period of residence to expire, voluptuous cuties who are playing tag with life, and have dropped in on Reno during a period of transition, boldly looking for some temporary masculine contacts and not being overly particular. Gamblers rub elbows with tourists. Cowpunchers pass the time of day with the owners of dude ranches. Sunburned vacationists, enjoying the healthful climate, mingle with pale-faced tourists who are gawking about at the sights of the divorce capital.
I wanted a few moments in which to think things out before I went back to the cabin. I drifted with the crowd through the doors of one of the more popular casinos, stood in a corner absently watching the expressions of the faces grouped around the wheel of fortune. Behind me, I could hear the steady whir of a slot machine. Intermittent. ly, there’d be the tinkle of coins spilling into the cup.
I turned around to look.
Helen Framley, her back turned toward me, was busily engaged in milking one of the two-bit machines.
I walked quietly to the door and out into the street.
Chapter Fifteen
Helen Framley came breezing into the cabin. “Gosh, I’m hungry. Anything to eat in the place?”
“Coming up right away,” Louie said. “I’ve got some Spanish beans in the oven, keeping warm. I’ve had them simmering all day. Wait until you taste them.”
“Boiled beans?” she asked.