Luna City 3.1: Chronicles of Luna City

By Celia Hayes and Jeanne Hayden

Welcome to Luna City, Karnes County, Texas … Population 2,454. This does not count the strangers come to town, searching for the fabulous Mills treasure-hoard, the seldom-seen Agua Dulce ghost-horsemen, and the mysterious lights spotted floating over the highway on one dark and moonless night.

Ex-celebrity chef, Richard Astor-Hall (formerly Rich Hall, the Bad Boy Chef) has his hands full managing the Luna Café and Coffee … plus some outside catering jobs … and a fund-raising charity event in which he might be drafted into playing a much bigger part than he agreed on at the start. A touch of mystery, a bit of possible romance … in this third serving of small-town Texas life in Luna City, where eccentricity is just a part of every-day life. Drop in for a visit – you might never want to leave.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Celia Hayes
• Release date: Sep 17, 2016
• ISBN: 9781536519273

Celia Hayes

Celia Hayes works as a restorer and lives in Naples. Between one restoration and another, she loves to write. Don't Marry Thomas Clark reached #1 in the Amazon Italian Ebook chart.

Book preview

Thanks and Dedications

Thank you to the readers who liked the first book and demanded the second and third. To my family, friends and the memory of those who have gone before. Semper Fidelis!

Jeanne Hayden

This third set of scribbles regarding the history and the comings and goings of the current residents of Luna City is dedicated to those residents of small to medium-sized towns which have not only welcomed us over the past half-dozen years, but have also served as an inspiration, in telling us stories, stories which were woven into this continuing chronicle: Fredericksburg, Boerne, Bulverde, Beeville, Goliad, Gonzalez, Comfort, Richmond, Junction, San Marcos, San Saba and Harper, to Giddings, Llano and Lockhart, Richmond, New Braunfels and Kerrville. This volume in particular is dedicated to a local San Antonio literary legend, the late John Igo, whom I was privileged to have – not as a teacher, in which role he was a legend – but instead as a client in publishing or re-publishing many of his small works in poetry, drama and local lore. On an impulse, I sent him an early partial draft of the first Luna City chronicle. He was vastly amused, and by way of encouragement, suggested a presence of a prima ballerina in Luna City

– which of course became the character of Johanna Gonzales-Garcia.

Ave, Professor Igo – and thanks!

Celia Hayes,

San Antonio, 2016

A Map of Historic Town Square

Dramatis Personae

Herewith a short alphabetical listing of residents of Luna City and Mills Farm, who feature in these pages, or are mentioned in passing. An asterisk (*) marks those characters who, although deceased, still have a strong presence, one way or another.

––––––––

––––––––

––––––––

––––––––

––––––––

––––––––

––––––––

Public Matter, Private Affair

The first thing that Richard was conscious of – other than the brilliant after-image of photographic flashes and movie lights imprinted on the back of his eyeballs in throbbing shades of neon – was that his head hurt terrifically. And he wasn’t laying where he had originally fallen; on the living room floor of Patrick and Araceli’s double-wide trailer/caravan, draped artistically across the small hooked rug sitting before the door, a rug which had an elaborately worked motto on it – in Spanish. Limpie sus pies, the motto commanded. Wipe Your Feet. Now Richard looked at the rug from across the room, and also a bright light shining into his left eye – as a masterly hand held his eyelid open.

F**k off, get that bloody thing out of my face! he demanded, and pulled away.

Okay, he’s awake and back to his usual self, drawled Chris Mayall. The light winked out, and Richard blinked against the after- image dazzle, and demanded again, baffled beyond all words. What the hell is going on, and what are you doing here? All that he could recall was opening the door of Araceli and Patrick’s down-market but simple, comfortable home, and the blast of lights and voices that met him, a wave of horror washing over him like some ghastly tsunami. Then darkness, nightmare, flashing lights and someone screaming. He was pretty certain that it had been him.

Well, that’ll put me well to the rear of the pack in the Luna City manhood stakes!

There were faces beyond Chris’ lean and cappuccino-colored one; the paler one of Araceli, and the yet even paler countenance of Jess Abernathy. All three were looking down upon him with matching expressions of deep concern, mixed now with some relief. Chris winked out the small silver medical torch, and tucked it into the pocket of his shirt-front – the navy-blue uniform shirt which bore the name Mayall embroidered above one pocket, and Luna City VFD - Medic on the other. Chris had a stethoscope in his hand now, and the earpieces already fixed; he scowled at Richard, saying, as he pressed the business end of it against Richard’s chest, slightly to the left of his sternum.

"Shut the f**k up, Rich – your BP was in the stratosphere. You were merely having the mother-f**ker of all flashbacks and a serious panic attack. Just as a matter of record and professional respect, I’d

prefer that you not stroke out on me. Looks bad for us and can really wreck your own day. You want the guys transport you to Karnesville Med Center? Get seen by a doctor?"

No, Richard gasped, as soon as Chris took away the stethoscope. I’m fine, now. I want to go home.

Chris snorted. No, you ain’t, asshole. Not to Blighty-land or the Age of Aquarius Campground and Goat-f**kery; not tonight, anyway. And not alone. You gotta be monitored. If you won’t let us haul your ass to the hospital in Karnesville, you better spend the night here.

He can stay the night, Araceli said. Richard noted with mild astonishment that she actually sounded concerned. In the children’s room. Katie is spending the night, too – she can look after him. She got every badge there was for First Aid when she was a Girl Scout.

I suppose that will be all right, Chris admitted, grudgingly. He sat back on his heels, returning the stethoscope to his bag of emergency supplies and eyed Richard. I gotta know, pal – who the hell were those guys Joe was chasing down the road to town? I passed them on the way when I got the call to come here. I thought I recognized that lard butt Canadian treasure hunter. He was making damn-good time for an old guy.

Mr. Gunnison Penn, Jess Abernathy’s own voice had that icy steel edge to it; the tone which could shave Parma ham into tissue-paper thin slices. "And some of his reporter friends. They came here with the intention of door-stopping Pat or ‘Celi about the gold coin that Mateo found at the Easter Egg hunt, hounding them into telling them all where he found it by making a big fuss with the cameras and lights. It’s a pretty crummy tactic; in the morning, Pops will call the judge in

Karnesville and ask him to file an injunction ordering them not to come anywhere within fifty feet of this place, or the school. Although I think that some of them will have to sneak back to retrieve their cameras and light-stands."

They weren’t after me? A blessed wave of ... something washed over Richard. He didn’t know if it was sheer, lighthearted relief, or crushing disappointment. Well, stone the crows. It was just a case of mistaken identity!

Araceli sniffed, remarking, I will be a nice person – I may gather up all their gear from the yard and pile it next to the mailbox, and if Tio Jaimie’s old basset hound pisses all over it before they come back, it’s so not my fault.

You can take your time, Chris zipped up his medical kit and stood up. Joe looked like he was gaining on them, coming around the turn-off to the high school, but with his knees, he ain’t got any stamina when it comes to distance ... speak of the devil, Chris added as the front door opened and shut, admitting the chief of Luna City’s police department, panting only slightly. You catch ‘em, Joe?

No, Joe Vaughn limped into the room – most uncharacteristically sweating and disheveled. But I put the fear of God into them before they got away. Last I saw, they were beating feet on 123, heading south. Bastards should be halfway to Karnesville. I’ll send Milo with the patrol car, after a while, if I’m feeling generous. Is Ricardo gonna be OK?

Pretty certain, Chris looked thoughtful for a moment, I wish he’d agree to going into Karnesville to see a for-real doctor ...

You’ll do, Squid, you’ll do. Damn – I never thought civilians got PTSD. Gimme back the Kel-Tek, Jess – I guess no one tried to come through the door?

Yep, they sure can, Chris replied, It all depends on the degree of initial trauma.

Jess silently handed Joe a small, evil-looking pistol. Before Richard’s horrified gaze, Joe casually hiked up his pants leg and replaced the pistol in an ankle-holster.

You don’t need to talk about me as if I’m not here. Richard demanded. Are you always armed while attending to your social obligations?

Sure, Ricardo – I’m never really off-duty; Colt in a shoulder harness, Kel-Tec in my sock, Ka-Bar in my other sock, switchblade in one pocket and a Gerber in the other. And those are just my social- occasion arms. The professional gear is locked in the station gun-safe safe.

Singular, Richard searched for words and could only find that one. Joe Vaughn grinned, although he grimaced as he held out a hand to Jess.

Break out the heating pads and the extra-strong Motrin when we get home, Babe – my knees are feeling it already. You better spend the night here, Ricardo – you don’t look so hot.

I guess so, Richard agreed.

Chris hefted his bag. Don’t forget, Joe – drink plenty of water with that Motrin. Look, Ricardo – since you won’t see a doctor, here’s what I’m gonna tell you to do: first, have a nice long hot relaxing soak in the bathtub tonight. I’m gonna bring you some nice special sedatives; take one when you get into bed, the other if you wake up with the jitters before morning. Don’t take both at once – they’re prescription, and OD’ing on them would be a professional strike against me for giving them to ya. Don’t drink any more alcohol tonight. Maybe some nice herbal chamomile tea with honey to kill the taste, sleep in tomorrow as long as you need to. Talk to a friend, but don’t dwell on it. Chris nodded towards Araceli. I’ll be back in a few.

Right – I’ll leave the back door unlocked for you, Araceli nodded, and saw Chris, Joe and Jess out. During the flurry of leave taking and goodbyes, Richard closed his eyes, for his head still ached abominably and he felt as if he had been either beaten-up or run through a tumble-dryer together with a duvet stuffed full of boulders. He may have dozed for some minutes, for between the headache and the beaten- up feeling, he was as exhausted as he had ever been, even the night when he first arrived in Luna City.

Hey, Chef! That was Araceli’s whisper; he opened his eyes. She stood by the sofa, enveloped in a fleece housecoat that covered her like a monk’s robe from neck to toes. She looked as tired as he felt. It was now fully dark outside the windows of the double-wide, so some considerable time may have passed, at that. "The bathtub is all yours. I’ve put a pair of Pat’s clean PJs in there for you, and a fresh towel. Don’t worry about opening the Café in the morning – I’ll take care of it, and Pat’ll take the kids to school. I’m afraid you’re sharing the kid’s