Read Hell's Gate for Free Online Page A

city. “But to find the woman of your dreams that way, like I did,” he admitted with a warm smile to Mary. “Well, that’s a rare thing. Very rare.”
    Mike knew Tom was right, but he’d never admit it. Still, when he spoke it was to say, “People find each other in all sorts of way, Dad. Who’s to say a factory girl is better, or a shop girl, or a chorus girl. They’re just girls. My way’s a lot less complicated. I know what I’m getting and what I’m not. This way I can know a girl better than I probably ever would before we got married. And what if then I didn’t like it, or she didn’t? Suppose we didn’t get along … in that way? You know I may be paying for companionship,” he almost used the word whoring but had always avoided the word in Mary’s company, “but when I do stick with one girl, that’ll be it.” He wondered if he could actually fulfill that pledge if it ever came to it.
    Mary smiled, but her eyes still held a tinge of worry. “Good. I’m glad to hear you say that,” she said with a nod to Tom. “We just want the best for you.”
    â€œAlways have,” Tom added. He smiled at Mary. This was the first time Mike had expressed interest in a woman in years. Tom felt like he should propose a toast, break out some cigars or something. Instead he grinned into his soup bowl, watching Mike from the corner of his eye.
    *   *   *
    An hour passed. Dinner was done, dessert served. The three of them sat back while the cook cleared the remains of the meal. Tom poured some port for Mary and himself, but Mike begged off. “It’ll put me to sleep,” he said.
    â€œWhich reminds me,” Tom said, putting down his glass. “I’ve got that surprise. Ought to keep you from nodding off.”
    Mike glanced at Mary for any clues, but she said nothing. A cryptic smile was all he got.
    â€œLead on, Captain!” Mike said, hauling himself to his feet. “I’m all on fire to see this, whatever it is. Ma sitting there like the sphinx. Lotta help she is.”
    Mary put up her hands. “I didn’t say a word.”
    â€œExactly,” he groused.
    Mike followed Tom out the front door. They took a left toward Montague Street. After going half a block Mike said, “Guess it’s not a new pistol.”
    Tom smiled. “Nope. Not a new pistol.”
    They continued past Montague, angling down the Heights toward the harbor. Another two blocks went by before Tom stopped in front of the large, double doors of a stable.
    â€œOh. You got that new trap you were talking about, didn’t you?”
    Tom shrugged. “You’ll see.”
    â€œNew horse, too?” Mike said, sensing there was more. Tom said nothing. He went to the office door off to one side of the building and walked in. A stableman sat behind a well-worn desk, his feet propped on top and his chair leaning back at a precarious angle. He roused when he heard the door, but didn’t change position. “Evenin’, Mista Braddock,” the man said. “Come to show her off?” He seemed about to say more, but a warning look from Tom shut him up. “Oh, I get it. A surprise, huh?”
    â€œRight, Nick. She back where I left her?” Tom asked.
    â€œSure thing, Mista Braddock. I don’ let nobody so much as breathe on that baby.”
    Tom and Mike walked into the semidarkness of the stable. The pungent smells of leather, horseflesh, and manure enveloping them like a fog. There were only two lights in the place, big, bare bulbs hanging on long wires from the ceiling. They walked past carriages parked on the left and horse stalls on the right. There were rigs of all descriptions, tall, open shays, black barouches, gleaming with varnish, a buckboard or two, and finally a little red Oldsmobile. Tom stopped before it. He looked at Mike with a wolfish grin. “Like