Journeyman

by Mark J Rose

  “I hope so,” she replied.

  Mary pulled a wet, steaming towel from the water. “This will sting,” she said.

  “Go for it,” Matt said. Both Grace and Mary looked at him strangely.

  “Go where?” Grace asked.

  “Do it,” Matt said. Mary instantly took action; the dripping towel was on him and he couldn’t believe the pain. “Ouch!”

  “As my daughter said, don’t be a baby.”

  It took about ten minutes to clean his wounds with soap and water. He was now sitting in a puddle and his pants were soaked. Mary pushed him forward to look at his back. “How bad is the cut?” he asked.

  “It should be sewn,” Mary said.

  “Sewn?” Matt exclaimed. “With what?”

  “A needle and thread,” Mary answered. “The injury is too large to heal.”

  “Are you sure?” Matt said. He saw Grace smiling. “Don’t even say it,” Matt exclaimed. “I’m not a baby. You’re going to put a needle and thread through my back without any sort of painkiller.”

  “Do you desire your rum to get drunk first?” Grace replied.

  “I don’t—” Matt caught himself midsentence. He gave her a dirty look. “I’m too tired and hungry. Just do it.”

  24

  Revelations

  Sewing up his back took another twenty minutes and was as painful as he had imagined. He limped back to the barn when they’d finished, holding his bloody shirt. His legs were fine, but the top part of his body felt delicate, like he was made of glass. His pants were uncomfortably wet. All in all, he imagined himself one big, bleeding wound. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been in a real fight; maybe not since the elementary school playground.

  Matt reached up to slide the barn door open and pain shot through his side. He saw that David had placed his parcels on the workbench. He had hoped to try the clothes on after he got home, but now he couldn’t touch any of it until he healed. Even if he wasn’t bleeding, he was in too much pain to perform the acrobatics required to change in and out of the colonial clothing.

  Matt forced himself to walk to the well and fill the wash basin, brought it back in, and then started the painful process of untying his shoes, removing his pants, and washing his lower body. He dried himself and put on a fresh pair of underwear and pants, looked at his new shoes and decided to at least give them a try. His feet slid in easily and he fastened the buckles. Just as he was standing to walk, there was a knock on the door.

  “You look horrible,” Will said.

  “You should have seen the other guy,” Matt replied. He reached into his pack to grab a shirt, which he slowly slid over his body to hide the bruises.

  “How did it start?”

  Matt sat and told the story as best as he could remember. “And then he was walking towards me like a bloody zombie,” Matt said, finishing the story. “One of us would’ve ended up dead if David hadn’t interrupted.”

  “What’s a zombie?” Will asked.

  Matt instantly wished the word had never left his mouth. He struggled to come up with some reasonable definition. “It’s from a children’s story they tell in Philadelphia,” he explained. “A zombie is a corpse that comes back to life and walks around kind of slow and tries to eat people.”

  “That’s a children’s story in Philadelphia?”

  “The point is that the man was moving toward me like a bloody walking corpse and wasn’t giving up until I was dead,” Matt said.

  “David said that Levi could barely walk.”

  “Maybe.”

  “I’m anxious to see how much damage you caused,” Will said. “I hope you’re well enough for the King’s Tavern on the Sabbath.”

  “Don’t the Paynes go there on Sunday?”

  “I guess they do,” Will said with a clever smile. “We’ll invite Father. Business as usual.”

  “That’s almost a whole day and a half away,” Matt said sarcastically. “I’ll be better by then.”

  “I thought you’d want to come,” Will replied. He changed the subject. “Mother said supper will be in about half an hour. There’s cold, fresh water.”

  “I’ll be there,” Matt replied.

  Will turned around and left, shutting the barn door behind him. Matt almost followed him, but thought better of it. The barn was quiet and he wanted to sit and rest, so he walked to his bench and sat with no other purpose than to sit. A strong sense of satisfaction was starting to replace his initial shock. He had stepped into the abyss and come out the other side, still alive. He looked up at the roof and thanked God, then popped to his feet and walked to the farmhouse.

  Like always, the house was a flurry of activity centered on serving the meal. Will and his father were deep in conversation. Thomas waved him over. “Have a seat,” he said, pointing to a chair. “You had some excitement.”

  “Sure did,” Matt agreed. “I bought two full changes of clothes, shoes, and met the apothecary.”

  “You know I mean the business with Levi,” Thomas said, smiling.

  “Oh, that?” Matt made a waving motion with his hand. “No big deal. Men try to beat me to death almost every day in Philadelphia.”

  “I can’t imagine he’d have killed you,” Thomas said.

  “He said he would,” Matt replied.

  “It’s the chance you take when you fight,” Thomas said.

  “I tried everything I could to avoid fighting, but I wasn’t going to let Levi Payne pound me into a bloody pulp.”

  “If what David says is true,” Thomas said, “you have some experience as a fighter.”

  “Do I look like I get into fights?” Matt said, motioning to his face. He realized his mistake simultaneously with the laughter that erupted from his two counterparts. “So maybe I look like I fight now,” he corrected, “but I’m not used to fighting…really.”

  “A man watching the fight said you kicked Levi in his chest,” Thomas said.

  “You kicked him?” asked Will. “How?”

  “Something I learned in China,” Matt said. “I planted my back foot and kicked.”

  “So you know how to fight,” Thomas said, “but you pretend not to fight.”

  “Hard to explain,” Matt said. “I did it for exercise.”

  “You fight for exercise?” Will asked, surprised.

  “You wear armor to protect your body and head,” Matt said.

  “Armor?” Will exclaimed. “Like a knight?”

  “No,” Matt replied, laughing. “It’s made of thick leather that goes around your chest to protect your midsection.” He pointed to his stomach. Then he pointed up to his head and said, “You wear a leather helmet for protection from head kicks.”

  “People can kick you in the head?” asked Will.

  “Yeah,” Matt said, nodding. “I tried to kick Levi in the head when I was certain he intended to kill me. I couldn’t get my leg up high enough and he used the opportunity to crush my skull.” Matt pointed to a big bruise on the side of his face. “My vision went crazy. I got lucky to catch him with my knee.”

  “Can you teach me this kicking?” Will asked.

  “It’s something that I practiced for years,” Matt replied. “It would take a long time to get it right. Someone like Levi would grab your leg and break it in half.”

  “Still,” Will said, “I desire to learn this.”

  “When I feel better,” Matt said.

  “Supper is ready,” Mary called from the table as she set a loaf of bread down. Everyone got up and went to take seats at the table. Matt noticed Grace looking at his bruises while everyone was passing the food. Jeb said the prayer and the family began the meal in their typical roar.

  Jonathan spoke as he was inspecting Matt’s bruised face. “Levi Payne dislikes everyone on the Taylor farm,” he said.

  “I don’t think he dislikes everyone,” Thomas replied.

  “He fought Will,” Jonathan said, “and he dislikes Grace because she wouldn’t marry him.”

  “
That’s a private matter,” Mary said.

  Jonathan looked at Grace and said, “Sorry, Grace.”

  “’Tis fine, Jonathan,” Grace said. “I don’t see why it shouldn’t be known. I refused to let Levi Payne court me.” She looked again at Matt’s bruised face. “Must we fear him beating Jeb next because he couldn’t court me?”

  “He didn’t beat me,” Matt said.

  Grace gave him a dirty look and hissed, “You’re missing the point.”

  “You think he wants to fight me too?” asked Jeb.

  “See what you started?” Mary said.

  “I apologize,” Grace said, “but it could be any one of us, or those who work for us.” She stared at Matt. “It’s not boys fighting anymore. Is this all because of me?”

  “Not only you,” her father said. “My son is correct. Levi has an aversion to our farm.”

  “He called Will a slick dandy,” Jonathan said.

  “How’d you remember that?” Will said, laughing at his little brother.

  “Your face was bloody,” Jonathan said, “and it scared me.”

  Will fingered a scar on his face. “I gave as good as I got,” he said proudly.

  “Would he threaten the men who work for us?” Mary asked. She turned to Thomas, who seemed to be thinking hard for something appropriate to say.

  “He could,” Thomas said. “This has been coming.”

  “What’s been coming?” Matt asked.

  “Nathan expected that we would lie down and die years ago,” Thomas explained. “We’ve sold more horses than ever this year; two this week for one hundred and fifteen pounds.”

  “The twins!” Jonathan said. “Grace made them shine. Mr. McKinley kept walking around saying how beautiful they were. Just when you thought he’d finish, he’d step away and do it again.”

  “One time he gazed into the sky and thanked God for their beauty,” Grace said.

  “As we should,” her father replied. “Tell us what you do to make the horses shine.”

  “They know,” Grace said.

  “Not Mr. Miller.”

  She looked at Matt and began to explain. “I brush them the day before they are to be sold; it takes almost an hour with the different brushes,” she said. “This removes the dust and brings the oils from their skin. I change their straw so they smell fresh. When morning comes, I repeat it all to work the natural oil from the skin and then wipe them down with a damp cloth to give them a dark shine. Their coat becomes so full with oil that it darkens the hair to look wet. My hands and arms ached from getting those two ready.”

  “Would your time not be better spent on unsold horses?” her father said. He had a critical tone in his voice.

  Grace looked at him, puzzled. “I take pride in my animals! I want our patrons to rush home to show their fellows. I was proud of—”

  “Exactly!” Thomas exclaimed. “And so was I.” He waited for a moment and added, “That’s the difference between our farm and Nathan’s. One hundred and fifteen pounds for two horses is a king’s ransom. We don’t sell to kings; we sell to townsfolk. Can you think of any pair of horses Nathan has on his farm that could sell for one hundred and fifteen pounds?”

  “No,” Will piped up. “They have naught these days.”

  “’Tis why Levi is frustrated,” Thomas said. “His slaves care naught for his horses and whether they shine.”

  Matt had wondered about Thomas’s perspective on slaves ever since he had learned that there were none on the farm. This seemed like an excellent opportunity. He knew to tread lightly and avoid questions that might back the man into a corner. “We don’t own slaves where I come from,” Matt said. “Is quality the only reason you don’t keep slaves?”

  “I made the decision long ago to conduct my affairs thus,” Thomas said. He thought for a moment. “I stopped keeping slaves because they clouded my judgment.”

  “Judgment?” Matt asked.

  “Slaves are property,” Thomas replied, “to be bought and sold.”

  “You don’t disagree that men should own slaves?” Matt said.

  “I have no interest in keeping other men from owning slaves,” Thomas replied. “I merely choose not to own them myself.”

  “I’m still curious why a farmer would make that decision,” Matt said. He tried his best to keep an even and unbiased tone.

  “Do you support a man’s right to own slaves?” Thomas asked, looking straight at Matt.

  “No,” Matt replied, “though I imagine that voicing this opinion would be an easy way to be run out of Richmond.”

  “I’d ask that you not discuss slavery with anyone outside this family as long as you’re my guest,” Thomas said. “Naught would come from this transaction.”

  “I’m still curious how slaves caused you to divide up your business,” Matt said.

  “It was not in my character to break up families or buy and sell the young ones,” Thomas explained. “I couldn’t sleep with all the moaning and weeping.”

  Matt could see that the topic was starting to make the man uncomfortable. “Thanks,” he said. “I appreciate your perspective.”

  “We’ve already spoken of this more than you can imagine,” David said. “Many times we’ve weighed the advantage of slaves against the grief they bring. We still end in the same place.”

  “And that is?” Matt asked.

  “Purchasing slaves might make sense next year,” David said with irony in his voice.

  “And next year and next year,” Will said. “’Tis thus since I was a young boy.”

  “There may never be a proper occasion for slaves on this farm,” Thomas said.

  “Might we debate something else?” Grace said. “We don’t need them. The men this season have labored long and hard and we should celebrate their hard work.”

  “Uncle selected fine fellows,” Will said. He looked over at David with a smile.

  “Many are quite friendly,” Thomas said. “It seemed much too quiet today without them.”

  “Not for Mr. Miller,” Jonathan said.

  “I slept in the wagon,” Matt replied. “That counts as quiet.”

  “What will you do for excitement tomorrow?” Grace asked.

  “I was hoping to start my riding lessons sometime,” he replied, surprising even himself. The whole table went quiet. Matt saw David trying to hide the wide grin he had on his face. Matt turned his attention to Grace, who was looking directly at her father.

  “Do you think you’ll be in a condition to ride?” Thomas said.

  “Probably,” Matt replied, trying not to look at David.

  “You could take some of that ibuprofen,” Jonathan said.

  “How did you know that it was called ibuprofen?” Matt said, amazed.

  “I listen,” Jonathan replied.

  “It’ll work to relieve some of this swelling,” Matt said. “I can’t lie around all day. We have church on the Sabbath.” David was shaking his head and was now not even hiding his grin. “I thought I could learn to ride on Thunder,” Matt said. “Would that be possible?”

  “Why not a more modest animal?” Will asked.

  “I’ll be buying Thunder once my business is complete in Richmond,” Matt declared. An overwhelming feeling of satisfaction washed over him with the realization that he was taking another step toward remaining in 1762.

  “Buying Thunder?” Grace said, surprised. “When did you decide this?”

  “The first day I met him,” Matt replied. “I don’t know if you remember.”

  Grace looked softly at him for a moment, and then put a pensive look on her face. Matt expected her to list ten reasons why he shouldn’t learn to ride on Thunder, but was pleasantly surprised when she finally spoke. “Thunder would be a good horse,” she said to her father. “He’s big, but gentle and easy to control.”

  “I still need someone to teach me,” Matt said, “and the price.” He glanced at Thomas, who was looking intensely at his daughter as she stared down at her food, dreading wh
at he might say.

  “Grace will teach you, Mr. Miller, should she agree,” Thomas said.

  “I can’t teach if I can’t ride,” she said.

  “Don’t be impossible, daughter!” her father said. “I’d not expect you to teach without riding. Pledge to me that you’ll take care; I can’t bear to have another taken.”

  Tears crawled slowly down Grace’s face. “I pledge this, Father.”

  25

  Horse’s Ass

  He stands there. At first, the stars are visible in the horizon of the night sky and then they begin to grow into jagged balls of light. All at once they start to move directly at him, shot from an unseen cannon. He tries to dodge the speeding fireballs, but cannot prevent himself from being engulfed by burning embers that collide with his face and explode around his body, causing unbearable pain. He grows nauseous from the beating until he is holding his stomach and retching. In between coughs he looks down at his feet to see the contents of his stomach begin to take form and swirl in a vortex. The nausea is overwhelming and he tries to steady himself against the swirling. The fireballs continue to pummel his head.

  Another vortex forms at his feet, and then another, and they begin spinning against each other. He can feel the shapes in each vortex vibrate with movement as they pull at his body with invisible tendrils. In a single instant his entire body shoots forward into one of the vortexes. There is an intense pain as he is torn away from the other pictures that fought for his body and he feels an overpowering sense of loss. Was that what could have been?

  He forces himself to open his eyes and observe the vortex as he tumbles forward. Ahead of him, the shapes take on greater form and begin to move. His connection with them grows strong and there is pain as his life force is ripped from his body to feed their vibration. He reaches his hand out, but the shapes remain out of reach, hidden in the shadows. He strains his arm forward, spreading his fingers in desperation to grab them. If I could only pull them close, I would know the future! I would know what I am to do! There are thunderclaps, a flash, and his world saturates with light. The visions are gone.