Sorry about the hiatus, guys! As the great Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu once said, "shit happens". 
Anyway, if you find yourself confused by certain revelations in this chapter, that's OK. I intended for you to be confused. The plot will become clear soon enough 
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Far away, in bustling downtown San Antonio, Eustace Strych was having a very different sort of morning. From his suite on the second floor of the Menger Hotel, he could monitor all the comings-and-goings outside, a duty which he performed with self-satisfied disdain. He stood by the window, glowering down at a couple of local gentry as they climbed into a horse and buggy across the street. The man wore a frilly yellow waist-coat, and his lady friend hitched up her skirts far too high as she boarded the coach. Eustace tugged at the lapels of his silken dressing gown, as if aligning them could somehow mitigate the faux-pas of fashion and etiquette he saw down below.
"Look at those simpering peons," scowled Eustace, as his butler entered the room. "They think they're high society because their town is famous throughout the West. The West, can you imagine! They can't even muster the civility to call it 'St. Anthony' instead of that Mexican drivel – it's ghastly. Yes, Blix, the sooner we catch the train back to St. Louis and bid farewell to this backwoods rat hole, the better."
"Mein Herr?"
Eustace glanced back to find Blix still standing in the doorway. The butler held a tray heaped high with steaming foodstuffs.
"What are you waiting for, you domestic buffoon?" scolded the magnate. "Set out the tray and the silverware before it gets cold!"
Blix made haste to comply, and Eustace strolled over to the breakfast table, oblivious to the opulence of his surroundings. The room was exquisite: carpeted in blue and papered in violet, it sported a four-poster bed with imported linens and matching curtains. The furniture was all hand-carved and accented with animal designs – the table legs tapered into lion's paws, for instance, and the nearby oval mirror featured an eagle perched atop its arch. Eustace paused to examine his reflection before sitting down.
"So tell me, Blix, what did the proprietors of this hovel prepare for my morning meal?"
The butler laid a cloth napkin over Eustace's lap as he narrated. "Buckwheat crêpes with sautéed apples and Gruyère cheese, poached eggs, and potato-crust quiche with leeks and mushrooms. To drink, fresh-squeezed pear juice and sugared coffee. The chef sends his apologies – the Menger staff was unable to accommodate your request for truffle-stuffed sweetbread."
"Hmph." Eustace grumpily surveyed the place setting. The dishes, which were blue and white porcelain, seemed clean enough, but the utensils were not polished to his standards. He picked up the fork and squinted at it. "Wipe this 'til it gleams, will you? And hand me the newspaper before you do."
The butler reached into his coat, removed the Saturday morning paper, and exchanged it for the dirty fork. He rubbed the utensil down with a spare napkin while his employer flipped to the financial section of the San Antonio Express. A column on the bottom of the page caught Eustace's eye, and the buck-toothed man stopped mid-yawn. A second later, he jumped up, jostling the table and nearly upsetting the pear juice. He stared down at the paper in horror, eyes flashing from side to side as he sped through the article.
"What is it, Mein Herr?" asked Blix, still polishing. "Is something the matter?"
By the time Eustace looked up again, his hands were shaking, and his voice was half-hysterical. "Yes, something's the matter, you great twit!" he shouted. "THIS! Look at this!"
He turned the paper round and flashed the headline at his butler: NORTH-CENTRAL PACIFIC & UNION PACIFIC RAILROADS ANNOUNCE TALKS FOR MERGER
"How could this happen?" he wailed. "HOW!? This announcement is six months ahead of schedule! Don't you understand what this means? We've already invested millions building westward, preparing to link up with the Union Pacific Line. If North-Central Pacific gets there ahead of us, we won't just lose our investment – we'll lose only our chance to be part of the first transcontinental railroad! South-Central Pacific will be forever doomed to obscurity as a mere regional enterprise!"
"Shall I telegraph your father, sir?"
"What for? This whole thing is his fault! We wouldn't be in this pickle if he'd spent more time working to expand our profits, and less time convincing his uptown golf buddies to use their riches to 'benefit the people' or whatever... My father has no sense of progress anymore, Blix. He's content to sit around the mansion and indulge his hobbies, even as our competitors snap at our heels!"
Blix set the polished fork down on the table. "Then how do you propose we handle this, sir? If North-Central really is poised to beat us to the punch, we'll need to act swiftly."
"Agreed, Blix – swiftly, and without mercy." Eustace wrung the newspaper like a sodden cloth. "First off, we'll need to reformulate our most recent plan. When I dispatched that assassin after Neutron, I counted on having at least three months for his Estate to be dealt with and for the sale of the land to go through. At this rate, North-Central and Union Pacific will have already merged by the time we lay claim to Retro Valley soil. No, the old plan won't work anymore – a more extreme approach may be necessary." The rich man sighed heavily, as if wounded by the whole affair. "You know how I abhor getting my hands dirty, Blix – but I'm afraid it cannot be helped this time. We'll need to obtain further local assistance."
"I'm not sure I understand you, Master Strych."
Eustace tossed the balled-up newspaper at his butler. "You don't need to understand me!" he snapped. "You need only do as I say! Now get your servile posterior down to the river and check the showboats. Track down Eddie, even if it takes all day and night...and when you find him, bring him here. I believe he may be of further use to us."
"Should I tell him you're the one behind this invitation, Mein Herr? When I consulted him last week about finding a reliable gun-for-hire, I made certain to keep your identity a secret, as you instructed..."
"I'm rescinding that instruction," huffed Master Strych, settling back into his chair. "If Eddie asks who sent you, tell him. And if he balks at the invitation, don't be afraid to sweeten the deal. Tell him I can make it worth his while."
The butler gave a stiff bow. "Would you like anything else before I leave, sir?"
"Nay, begone. My throat is hoarse from yelling and my crêpes are getting cold."
Blix exited the room without another word, and Eustace turned at last to his breakfast.
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Tell me what you thought, simpering peons 
HISTORICAL SHIT AND BULLSHIT SHIT
-The Menger Hotel is a real (and awesome!) landmark in San Antonio. It was built by German immigrant William Menger in 1859, 23 years after the fall of the nearby Alamo. By the 1870s, the Menger was the best-known hotel in the southwest. Over the years, it has hosted such famous guests as Robert E. Lee, Ulysses S. Grant, Babe Ruth, and Oscar Wilde. Teddy Roosevelt visited 3 times, most famously in 1898 when he used the bar to recruit the Rough Riders, who fought in Cuba in the Spanish-American War. The Menger Hotel is still in operation today, holding the unofficial title of "The Most Haunted Hotel in Texas."
-The San Antonio Express was a legit newspaper. It grew from uncertain beginnings in the 1860s, but after its competitors went out of business, it expanded into a full newspaper in the 1870s. Today, it is the third most-circulated newspaper in Texas, and is now known as the San Antonio Express-News, thanks to a merger with a competitor in the 1980s.
-As I said before, there is no South-Central Pacific or North-Central Pacific Railways - I made them up to replace the real-life Central Pacific Company, which linked up with Union Pacific to form the first transcontinental railroad.
~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =
NEXT PART -> Retro Valley Jilse
