“Old Stovepipe Johnson?” He was surprised. “He was a Confederate General.”
“Why did they call him ‘Stovepipe’? That’s an odd nickname.”
Reno smiled at the memory. “He duped the Union Army with fake cannons that his men built with wagon wheels and stovepipes.”
“Huh. Resourceful.”
“True, considering he was blind. He was accidentally shot in the head by one of his own men.”
“Friendly fire,” Journey mused. “I’ve heard of things like that.”
“I’m not so sure Stovepipe thought it was friendly.”
“True. Anyway, he did well. Built a town, a fine home, brought in a railroad, and founded a college. In fact, Marble Falls elected the first woman mayor in 1917. Birdie Harwood.”
“A woman mayor?”
Journey laughed at Reno’s shocked expression. “We even won the right to vote in 1920.”
“Good.”
His response surprised Journey. “Why do you say that?”
He shrugged. “I’ve known some good men in my life. King, Clay, Boone, Jericho, Domino, Gentry. But the people who have influenced me the most have been women. Wise women. My mother and Ela Blue.”
Out of nowhere, Journey snapped her fingers. “That’s it. Now, I know where I’ve heard that name. She’s mentioned in Saul’s journal.”
“Well, I’m not surprised. He thought a lot of Ela. What does it say about her?” His tone was excited and demanding.
Journey shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember. We’ll look tonight. Okay?” She put on her blinker. “I need to make one quick stop before we eat. I need a new phone.”
“I’ll wait out here,” Reno volunteered.
“Okay, you people watch. I’ll hurry.”
As he waited, Reno was hypnotized by the flow of people. All ages. All sizes. All nationalities. Milling about. They were all dressed in far less clothes than he was used to seeing. Women traveled by themselves and in pairs. He even saw two women kissing. “Good gravy,” he whispered, absolutely fascinated.
When Journey returned, he was ready with a comment. “I saw two women kissing. On the mouth.”
“Oh, really? That’s nice. Gay people are the best. In this day and age, they’re all pretty open about their relationships.”
“Huh.” He mulled over that revelation. “Men too?”
“Yea, men too.”
“Why did you call them ‘gay’? Because they’re happy?”
She laughed. “That’s just the word they chose to distinguish themselves. I think it originally meant carefree or bright.” She broke out in song, singing a line from the Christmas carol, Deck the Halls. “Don we now our gay apparel. Fa-la-la La-la-la La-la-la.”
Reno looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “In my time, it went a little further, gay meant addicted to pleasure.”
“Really.” Journey was surprised. “So, another word for hedonist. Learn something new every day.”
She didn’t drive but a few more blocks before she turned into the parking lot of The Real New Orleans Style Restaurant. “Oh, I was about to tell you something else when I thought about getting a phone. This might interest you. Aunt Myra told me that Mr. Kota is descended from Ela.”
“What?” Reno was understandably surprised.
She nodded. “That’s right. I don’t know if I mentioned it, but his last name is Blue. I’ll bet he can tell you some tales.”
“I bet he can.”
Once they parked and left the car, Reno stepped ahead of Journey to open the door for her. “Why, thank you.” His gallantry warmed her heart. “Men don’t do that very often anymore.”
“They should,” he said matter-of-factly.
When they entered the modest, simple dining area, a hostess directed them to an empty table beneath a television on the wall which was set on CNN. Journey paid the noise little notice, but Reno quickly became mesmerized. “What in the devil is that thing?” he asked, pointing to the TV, his eyes wide, his mouth open.
“That’s a television, it broadcasts programming like news, sitcoms, movies, commercials – an abundance of commercials.”
“I don’t know what any of that means.”
She held up a finger. “I’ll tell you as much as you can handle, just as soon as we place our order.” The waitress presented them with a menu and Journey grinned as Reno licked his lips, reading the list of entrees.
“I can choose any of this?” he asked in wonder. “The eating establishment I’m used to only offers everyone the same meal.”
“You can order one of each, if you want.” The young waitress grinned broadly. “As cute as you are, I’ll make sure some of it’s on the house.”
Journey enjoyed watching him decide. While he did, she ordered red beans, rice, and sausage. “It’s not Monday, but your cook nails that dish every time.”
“She sure does,” the girl agreed. “Now, what can I