Prophet

by Mark J Rose

  **********

  Sunrise and the noise of men came simultaneously. The dog peeked his head above the grass where he was sleeping to see a ferry pressed against the dock. Men, horses, and wagons moved off the ferry as other wagons arrived to wait in line. Scout stepped out of his hiding place to see if Matt and Thunder were among these men, but he could neither see nor smell them. He followed one of the wagons onto the floating platform, trying to hide from the man directing the vehicle onto the boat.

  “That your dog?” the man said to the driver of the last wagon.

  “Not mine,” the driver replied.

  “Whose dog?” the ferryman yelled to the people waiting. When he got no answer, he waved an oar in Scout’s face and forced him back onto the dock with the waiting wagons. The ferryman pulled the gate up and gave the order for his men to begin moving the large barge to the other side of the river. Scout sat there dejected as the ferry moved slowly away from shore.

  10

  Direction

  Matt spent the rest of the day building a fence with three teenage sons of John Boyd. Matt had learned the finer points of fence building two weeks earlier from the Taylors, so he had no problem doing his share of the labor and even instructing the teens on a few occasions. He tried his best to keep a smile on his face, despite his screaming headache. Their mother, Margaret, brought lunch out to the pasture for them, and Matt sat eating with the boys. They talked mostly about girls while Matt listened. It was an entertaining topic that took away some of the pain in his head.

  When they had finished for the day, they stopped at the well to wash up for dinner. Matt had to smooth the hair away from his face as he washed; it was long enough now that he could put it in a ponytail. Supper was served on a picnic table behind the farmhouse under large shade trees that separated them from most of the other barns and livestock pens. Matt sat with Margaret and John Boyd, their five sons, the wife of one of the sons, and five hired men.

  Matt received no attention at first, and he thought that he might be able to leave the meal without having to explain himself. But he couldn’t escape the curiosity of Paul Boyd, twelve, who was the first to inquire.

  “What happened to you and your horse, Mr. Miller?”

  “I got attacked on the road and my horse was stolen,” Matt replied.

  “By who?” It was one of the older boys named Adam.

  “By people sent to rob me,” Matt said. “I insulted a man in Richmond…I was stupid.”

  “He sent someone to rob you?” the oldest of the hired men asked. He had a critical look in his eye and stroked his full beard as he waited for Matt to answer.

  “Yes,” Matt replied to the table. “It goes to show you, be careful who you insult.”

  “What was the insult?” asked Paul.

  “He was the town ruffian,” Matt replied. “I confronted and teased him. I should have left well enough alone.”

  “Jason said you must confront them or they return again,” Paul said. Matt looked over at John Boyd, expecting him to react to his son’s statement, but the older man’s face remained blank.

  Matt nodded. “I never would have guessed the time men are willing to spend on revenge.”

  “Some are off the hooks.” It was Jason, the oldest Boyd son, who was married. “You must hit them before they can understand.”

  “This isn’t our way,” his father scolded.

  “Still, Father,” Jason replied. “There is some chasm between what we say and what we do.” The father’s silence seemed very much like an acknowledgment.

  “Did you know the men who attacked you?” Jason’s wife asked, concerned. Georgia was pretty, with dark red hair, and almost too young in Matt’s eyes to be married already.

  “No,” Matt replied. “I’d seen one of them in a pub in Wilmington. One was short, one very tall, and I remember the third like he was right in front of me. He had a blue coat and an old brown leather tricorner, and he spoke in a very deep voice.”

  “We saw these men!” Charles Boyd exclaimed, looking at Jason. “On the road—they were belligerent and smelled of spirits as they passed.”

  “Enough!” their father cautioned.

  “Which way were they heading?” Matt asked excitedly.

  “Mr. Miller!” John Boyd warned.

  “I apologize,” Matt said. There was an awkward silence until Simon Boyd, the second-youngest son, asked Matt, “What did you do in Richmond?”

  “I worked on a horse farm,” Matt said. “I helped bring in the hay, tobacco, and corn. I’m an expert at stacking bales.”

  “Ugh!” Paul said. “I despise the corn.”

  “Ha!” Matt said. “But do you realize that corn represents the affairs of men?” He was trying to channel the enthusiasm of Thomas Taylor when he’d first explained his theory to Matt as they’d sat around the dinner table on the Taylor farm.

  “How so?” John Boyd asked, intrigued.

  “Let me tell you!” Matt exclaimed. He put his thumb and forefinger to his chin like he had seen his chemistry professor do whenever he was making a thoughtful explanation. He then went on to introduce Thomas Taylor’s whole theory on how growing corn was a metaphor for a man’s life and goals.

  When Matt was done, Jacob said, “I imagine it could be any crop, though, right?”

  “I like to save it for the corn,” Matt answered. “There isn’t much else redeeming about being in a cornfield.” The table broke out in laughter.

  **********

  After dinner, everyone went to perform evening chores. Matt borrowed a few brushes and went to clean the mud from Thunder’s coat. The horse had finished with the mare and was back in his own corral.

  “Looks like you got dirty,” Matt said to the animal as he decided between the brushes in his hands. The horse turned to the sound of his voice and nudged him with his head. “I didn’t mean it like that, you scoundrel,” Matt joked. “We’re back on the road again tomorrow.”

  Matt worked a brush through Thunder’s coat a few more times before his concern about finances compelled him to pull his remaining money from his pocket: two joes and ten shillings. He probably had enough to forget about the men, avoid trouble, and make his way to Philadelphia. He looked up at the sky.

  “Well?” Matt said. “What should I do?”

  “Sorry to interrupt your prayer.” Matt turned around to see Jason.

  “I never get any answers anyway,” Matt said.

  “I’m no expert, but I don’t think it works like that.”

  “Couldn’t it just once?” Matt said to himself.

  “Those bravos were on the road yesterday,” Jason announced.

  “That’s what you said,” Matt answered. He wanted to shout at the man to tell him more.

  “Were they drunk when they robbed you?”

  “I don’t think so. They probably drank the whiskey in my bag.”

  “Do you oft carry whiskey?” Jason asked. He seemed disappointed.

  “It was a gift from a friend in Richmond. He gave me orders to share it only with important men.”

  “I imagine those three didn’t qualify, then?” Jason said, laughing. He spoke quietly. “My father cannot know what I will confess.”

  “Your secret’s safe with me,” Matt replied.

  “You kill them, you’ll get the noose,” he warned.

  “Do I look like a killer?” Matt found Jason’s noncommittal shrug a little disappointing.

  “They were headed into Wilmington.” Jason acted like he was going to say something more, but then went silent.

  “What else?”

  “I heard something about the Treasure Chest.”

  “My bag was the treasure chest,” Matt replied. “There was a lot of money.”

  “No. There’s a pub by the dock that caters to sailors…strangers…visitors. They have gambling and ladies. It’s called the Treasure Chest. That’s where I’d look.”

  Matt raised his eyebrows. “Thanks.”

  “May God b
e with you, Mr. Miller,” Jacob said, then turned and walked away, not looking back.

  “Now we have a plan,” Matt said to Thunder. He returned to using the brush to sweep the caked mud from the horse’s coat.

  11

  Samuel, Part I

  Samuel lost track of his gang when he returned to Wilmington. When they first arrived, they headed to the river to rent the best rooms they could find. His partners shared while he took one for himself, telling them he needed his own room because they had gross habits and smelled, but the real reason was that he wanted to count the extra money he’d hidden in the saddlebag. After stashing their things, all three went to the first pub they saw and gorged themselves on food and drink. They stumbled home together, too drunk even for whores. Their first day in town ended in a stupor.

  The second day was similar. They spent it drinking in a tavern down at the waterfront, then branched out into buying almost every whore they encountered from the brothels that lined the Delaware River. Watching his partners carry on with every manner of toothless trollop at the dock disgusted Samuel, so when his companions came by for him on the third day, he decided not to go. He couldn’t look at one more drunken old cat. They went without him, and he took the opportunity to flash some of his gold in the Treasure Chest.

  When he returned to his room that night, his companions were missing, and he hadn’t seen them since. Samuel was sure they’d find him once their money was gone; they always did. Even though they ran with the same people in Virginia, Myles and Ephraim never seemed to be able to find jobs on their own. The boys always come back to Sam. He was starting to miss their company, though, so Samuel decided if they did return with empty pockets, he’d loan them as much as they wanted.

  Missing his boys was not enough to weaken Samuel’s satisfied grin. He was content in the thought that he had enough gold to enjoy everything he desired and a little more besides. He was on a streak of luck that didn’t seem possible. His trumps had started when they’d floored that swell and found all the money in his saddlebag, and now it was all he’d won at the card tables last night. The ride from Richmond was long and hard, but it had paid off. They’d followed the wagons from town to town, waiting for an opportunity to get that bugger alone. There was a moment in Fredericksburg when he was walking through the streets, but there were too many people around. Samuel and his boys had resigned themselves to riding all the way to Philadelphia and grabbing him there.

  Samuel didn’t know Levi Payne personally, but he felt some kinship toward the man who had hired him to hurt and rob Matthew Miller. Miller was the type of man Samuel had despised all his life: a nib walking around like he was better than everyone else. They’d watched Miller closely in Wilmington the night before they clubbed him. The men that bugger traveled with had spent time during that day unloading their wagons. There were fewer of them around after that, and Samuel knew somehow that they wouldn’t be continuing with him on his journey.

  Samuel smiled, thinking about how he’d played with Miller the night before. In the pub, that rascal had looked back, bewildered, when Samuel raised his glass in a toast. Samuel saw how uncomfortable Miller was to return the gesture and then how quickly he resumed smiling at his friends. You should have paid more attention, rascal. Samuel thought briefly of the man’s beautiful horse and wondered where he might have gone. Under some other swell.

  Samuel wondered again about his boys and doubted that they would be coming back anytime soon. They’re probably lying rough somewhere in their own vomit. He’d go early to the Treasure Chest, win more money, and see if he could find that same red-haired wench. He’d keep her longer this time, maybe even convince her to come back to his room. He’d show her all his money and she would bow at his feet like he was her king.

  Samuel’s excitement was almost too much to contain as he reached into the saddlebag for the stolen clothing. He was disappointed to find that the breeches were a little too long, but happy to learn that the waistcoat was an almost perfect fit. A wicked grin filled his face as he looked down at his new suit. He’d be a rank swell tonight and it would be obvious to anyone with eyes that he was a wealthy man. He opened his purse to check the gold coins and then left the shack, making sure to lock the door behind him.

  Samuel walked the short distance to the Treasure Chest underneath a cloudy sky. He looked up once or twice, wondering if it would be raining on his walk home. He was in no hurry and had plenty of money, so he could wait the rain out if he had to. He’d show them like he had yesterday. He was better at cards than other men, and to top it off he had more luck.

  **********

  Even this early in the day, the pub was filled with drunken men and wenches scattered in every seat. He walked in and sat at the bar. I could buy this pub and take whores anytime I wanted. “Your finest ale,” he said, smiling at the barman, “and some stew to fill my stomach.”

  “You have two shillings?” the man asked.

  “I have to flash my purse to get respect?”

  “So there’s no trouble,” the barman answered.

  Samuel fished out his purse in a dramatic fashion. “I banged it up in here last night.”

  “Jist preventin’ trouble,” the barman repeated. He looked at the money in the purse. “Who’d you crash?”

  Samuel tried to act insulted. “My family’s wealthy.”

  “Mine too,” the barman retorted. He turned and poured ale from the barrel behind the bar.

  Once Samuel had finished two ales and his stew, he paid the barman and handed him an additional shilling. “I’d like to go back to the tables,” Samuel said.

  “No tables,” the barman replied, looking down at the coin in his hand.

  Samuel’s face filled with irritation. “I stripped ’em last night.”

  “Don’t know nuthin’ about no tables,” the barman repeated.

  Samuel reached into his pocket for two more shillings and handed them to the man. The barman remained silent and his hand stayed open. Samuel had to drop five more shillings there before the barman motioned to his companion, a large blond man standing beside a closed door that led into the back room.

  The man walked over. “Lemme see your stakes.”

  “Already showed him,” Samuel replied, nodding to the barman.

  “Need to see ’em,” the man warned.

  Samuel pulled his purse out of his pocket and showed the contents. The blond man motioned he should follow him to the back of the pub.

  “I know where it is,” Samuel said. He trailed behind him to the door, all the while imagining any number of ways that he and his boys could follow this man from the pub and smash his face. The blond man opened the door and then shut it behind Samuel. There were ten or so tables where men were playing cards. The room was loud with conversation and smelled of old spilled ale and cigar smoke. Samuel searched the room and recognized the men he’d played with the night before.

  “I came to give you a chance to win your gold back,” he announced, putting his hand on the back of a chair.

  “So sit,” said an old man he didn’t recognize.

  “Name’s Samuel Kemp,” he said proudly to the old man as he sat and pulled out his purse. Topping men always say their names. There was some haggling as Samuel made change for the coins he placed on the table, but then he was in the game. He smiled, looking around at their faces, sure he’d be richer in a few hours. Samuel dreamed of a future when he wouldn’t have to take things by force and could make his money gambling. I’ve more brains than most.

  Samuel lost the first few hands and dismissed it as other men’s blind luck. He kept looking toward the door, wondering if the red-haired whore would be there when he went into the bar with his winnings. The game slowed.

  “This is church work,” he said. “I’ve somewhere to be.”

  “Turn up, then,” another man said.

  “And not win my gold back,” Samuel replied. “A capital scheme in your mind.”

  “I’d turn up before I lost
more,” the man repeated.

  “I’ve a lot to lose,” Samuel quipped.

  “Put your stakes on the table, then.”

  Looking around, Samuel could see that the other men waited for his reaction, so he pulled out his purse and dumped three more joes and other assorted coins on the table. Samuel saw the respect in their eyes. “There’s more where that came from,” he bragged.

  “Deal the cards,” another said.

  Samuel won the next three next hands and smirked each time as he pulled the coins. He then lost two and shook his head at the fact that some men could play at cards without any skill at all. Finally, the deal gave him three kings. He bet a small amount so as not to scare anyone away, and remained stoic when most at the table followed him in. His next card was an ace. He bet more this time, hoping to scare away the ones who relied only on luck. Three men folded and he knew that his plan was working. He gazed again at the door, wondering what that red-haired doxy would be wearing.

  The last card came and it was the second ace. A shiver of excitement went through his body. He opened with a high but conservative bet, hoping to draw someone further into his trap. Three men remained and each matched his money. The last, the old man who was new to the table, raised the bet another joe. Samuel’s stomach leapt with anticipation. The play came to him and he matched the old man’s bet and raised him an additional gold coin. He’d keep pulling him along until all the man’s money was out on the table. Samuel had one more gold coin in his purse. Both other men folded their hands.

  The old man pulled out three more gold coins and pushed them along with another into the center of the table. “I raise it three joes,” he said.

  “I don’t have that much gold on me,” Samuel replied. “I can get it, though.” It was true. Samuel had the other pack of gold coins hidden under the bed in his room. He knew he had a winning hand, but he could easily make up the extra money if, by some miracle, this man won.