Part Two, Chapter Nine

Alvi took Donovan and Carina to dinner at an old hotel on the town plaza, a great overdone edifice of granite archways and heavy oak doors. It was a place favored by town leaders, railway officials and a few local ranchers whose government contracts had liberated them of the need for frugality.

It was also popular with military officers. It seemed everywhere Donovan looked he saw men in brass and stripes. Had it not been that many of them knew Alvi and came over to shake hands and wish them a pleasant evening, he would've been so nervous he would've given himself away by fleeing. With a stern effort of will, he followed Alvi and Carina to a pleasant corner table and frowned over the menu, trying to make out at least one familiar word.

"The steaks are very good here," Alvi said, covering for Donovan's difficulties. "There are several big ranches nearby. The boys on base are supposed to make sure all the best stock ends up on trains to the larger bases and cities, but somehow the good citizens of Jonasville get tender porterhouse steaks and our boys at the front get stringy remnants in dented tins."

"I think I remember having that for dinner a few times," Donovan said. He put the menu aside. "I'll have whatever you recommend, since you obviously know what's good."

When the waiter came by, Alvi ordered a bottle of champagne and steaks for all three of them. Afterward he noticed Carina pouting. "I’m sorry dear, but you had already read everything on the menu and still hadn't made up your mind."

"I don't know what I want," she said petulantly, playing with one of the cuffs of her new black dress. "It all sounds like it would be good, but then I think about having to eat it..."

"That's why I chose for you.”

Their champagne arrived and Carina surprised both men by the vicious determination with which she attacked it, downing her first glass even before their appetizers arrived. Donovan frowned but didn't say a word as Alvi refilled her glass and turned a friendly smile on a paunchy, uniformed man who had wandered over to their table with his wife on his arm.

"Good to see you here tonight, Alvi."

Alvi jumped to his feet and pumped the man's hand enthusiastically. “Even more of a pleasure to see you, Major.” He beamed at the pretty brunette in pink spangles and leaned over to kiss her cheek. "What a lovely rose you are tonight, Claire. Keeping your man in line, I hope?"

"I'm trying." Her eyes darted toward Donovan and Carina, and Alvi made hasty introductions. Carina sucked in her breath when the woman made the common assumption that anyone in black was in mourning and gave her a stylized peck on the cheek, murmuring, "You have my utmost sympathy, dear."

Luckily their stay was short. "An acquaintance from base," Alvi apologized after the couple had gone to their table.

"How do you know them?" Carina asked. "They don't look like the type to spend much time on muddy farms, in need of huaraches."

"I have business dealings with them, nonetheless."

Carina was unconvinced, but before she could say anything, their appetizers of roasted nopalitos and local cheese and chiles arrived. She looked at her plate in dismay, but forced herself to take a bite.

"It's good, darling, isn't it? You must eat it all."

Donovan squeezed her hand under the table. "Eat as much as you can."

Carina frowned and was about to quiz Alvi again about his friends in high places when a mariachi trio appeared at their table. The leader blasted his trumpet and all hope of discussion was lost.

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