El Paso: A Novel Read Online Free

El Paso: A Novel
Book: El Paso: A Novel Read Online Free
Author: Winston Groom
Tags: Fiction, Historical, Westerns
Pages:
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him, but remained by her husband, holding his arm with an anxious, expectant look on her face. The man smiled broadly with big strong teeth. The matrons came in soon after and filled the foyer, where there were oohs and aahs and everyone bursting into conversation. Arthur stood there, alone in the corner, feeling forgotten. And then it was time to go. Mr. Shaughnessy took Arthur’s cardboard box and carried it to the car, where he handed it to a man standing beside the open door. He was a young dark-skinned man enormous as a statue and dressed in chauffeur’s livery—gray suit with brass buttons, salmon tie, high-topped polished brown boots and a cap, perched on a head of bushy hair. He seemed to scowl. The man reached for Arthur’s bag, too, but Arthur took a step backward.
    “It’s all right, Arthur,” Beatie said. “This is Bomba, our driver. He will put your things in the trunk.”
    Arthur handed him the bag and, after Beatie got in, stepped up into the large open motorcar, followed by Mr. Shaughnessy, who stepped inside like a king ascending his throne. Arthur had never been in an automobile before and it was more magnificent than he ever could have imagined. When Bomba cranked the engine it seemed to come alive, like the sudden purr of a sleeping beast.
    The seats were of deep, pleated walnut-colored leather that smelled of polish and saddle soap. The floor was covered with a lush gray pile of carpet that his worn-out shoes seemed to sink into. Behind the front seat a gleaming mahogany table folded down; built into it was a bar with crystal glasses, decanters, and a silver ice bucket. The car began to move with a low, breathy snarl, and Beatie handed Arthur a soft wool lap robe. He wasn’t sure what to do with it, but she tucked him in. Light snowflakes swirled past the windows.
    “Well,” said Mr. Shaughnessy, “what would you like for Christmas?”
    Arthur looked at him, stupefied. It was a question he’d never been asked before.
    “Haven’t you anything in mind, Arthur?” Beatie asked.
    Arthur shook his head.
    “All right, then we’ll just have to find something, won’t we?” Shaughnessy said merrily.
    Arthur stared straight ahead, not knowing what to think.
    The motorcar slowly wound its way out of South Boston, crossing a river, and through the city proper. Arthur had never actually seen the city—the real Boston—with its stately stone buildings and men in expensive chesterfields and top hats. A place of big parks with enormous trees and manicured lawns. He unabashedly looked around as Mr. Shaughnessy pointed things out to him: the State House, the Revere Monument—and before he knew it, they were . . . home.
    Bomba pulled the car up to the front of a tall, elegant brick house five stories high. It had an enormous bay window in front and the other tall windows were flanked with shiny green shutters. Bomba seemed to scowl as he opened the car door, but as Arthur stepped out and faced the house his mouth dropped open and Bomba beamed like a harvest moon. A set of white marble steps led to the front door, which was adorned with gleaming brass.
    “Bomba will put your things in your room, Arthur,” Beatie said as they climbed the steps. Arthur could see his reflection in the plate of the brass entrance knocker. A maid opened the door and they stepped inside. Arthur didn’t realize his mouth had dropped open, but he had the presence of mind to remove his cap. The hallway was illuminated by a great crystal chandelier that was gaslit. To the left was an elegant parlor room covered with a tremendous Aubusson carpet; elegant and plush chairs and sofas were scattered around among tables of highly polished wood. To the right was a room with a grand marble fireplace flickering warmly. On the floor sat a richly colored Persian rug, upon which stood deep leather furniture and plush chairs with ottomans. Trophy animal heads were affixed to the walls, along with hung paintings of racehorses, yachting
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