Journeyman

by Mark J Rose

  Matt shuddered awake, disoriented, with the dream still vivid in his mind. The sun was already high in the sky and a large beam was shining through the window onto his face. Has the rain stopped? The barn was unrecognizable in the midmorning light, making him wonder at first whether he was still dreaming. Even the dog, still sleeping at his feet, seemed somehow out of place. Matt had grown used to him scurrying out of the barn at sunrise.

  Matt’s dream was starting to slip away with his other thoughts, so he made an effort to try to commit it to memory and focus on some of the moving pictures he had seen. This was the third instance where he had dreamed that he was moving purposely through a timeline. He focused on some of the moving pictures and events. Now that he knew that he had been transported into a different century, visions of the journey didn’t surprise him and it made perfect sense that his subconscious mind had recorded details.

  The dog opened his eyes and let out a big yawn.

  “Good morning, dog,” Matt said. Scout’s ears perked up and he popped to his feet and headed to the door.

  “I’m coming,” Matt said as the dog waited impatiently. Matt sat up. Pain shot through his upper body, his head pounded hard, and the stitches in his back throbbed. Matt fought off the pain, pulled on pants, and crossed the straw-covered floor to open the door for Scout, who squeezed through and bounded out of sight. He’d be gone until it was time to bring the horses in for the night.

  “You’re welcome,” Matt called after him. He slipped on his hiking boots and a shirt and stuck his head out the window. It was cloudy again, but the rain had stopped. He could see Joshua eating from his trough under the lean-to David had built in the nearest corral. Matt walked over the wet ground, first to visit the privy and then to see how Joshua was doing. There was a clean and fresh smell to the wet air.

  Matt had just entered Joshua’s coral when he heard Grace say, “How’s he doing?”

  “I’m hoping he looks better,” Matt replied, walking towards the horse.

  She walked over to the gate and let herself in behind Matt. “He does,” Grace said. “I already looked.”

  “Really?”

  “That’s what I said,” Grace answered.

  “It’s a Philadelphia thing,” Matt said impatiently. Talking with her was making his head throb even more.

  “What?”

  “People in Philadelphia say ‘really’ to affirm what you said.”

  Grace stared with a no-nonsense look that cut through him. “Yes, it really looks better,” she said. “Can we see his back now, or do we need more lessons on how people converse in the North?”

  “You really don’t like me,” Matt said.

  “I really don’t know you,” she replied. She looked at him, shaking her head. “Take the linen off, you’ll be pleased.”

  “Really?” He had given up. She felt like a lost cause to him, and so he had resorted to being an ass.

  “Yes, really,” she said, resigned. There was some sadness in her voice.

  “I’m sorry,” he said immediately.

  “For what?”

  “Acting like a horse’s ass.” He said it confidently and it was obvious that it was heartfelt. His mood, his head, and the situation had combined to make him act like a malicious child.

  “You’re forgiven,” she said. Her smile warmed to him. “Horse’s ass. I like that.”

  Matt reached over and pulled up the linen. “We might as well leave this off until we put another coat on,” he said as he rolled up the cloth. “Wow. It does look good.” The swelling was beginning to disappear. Matt had no idea what the horse would look like when the infection was gone, but this was probably close. “We’ve got it.”

  “Do we put more on?”

  “That’s where most people make the mistake. He needs to be treated for the full ten days. If anything happens, I get delayed in town, run over by a wagon train, anything, you make sure the medicine gets put on, okay?”

  “Nothing’s going to happen to you in our sleepy little town, Mr. Miller,” Grace said.

  Matt looked at her out of the corner of his eye and pointed up to his bruised face.

  “I’ll carry on when you’ve gone,” she said, laughing.

  “We should wash him before we apply more ointment,” Matt said. “I can do it.”

  “Are you familiar with washing a horse?”

  “Soap, rinse and dry. How hard could it be?”

  Grace put an amused smile on her face. “You’ve never washed an animal before, have you?”

  “I had a cat growing up. But we never had to give him a bath.”

  She laughed like a young girl. “I suggest you never try to give a cat a bath,” she said, “unless you want your arms scraped up more than they are now.”

  “Are you going to help me clean him or not?” Matt said.

  “It’s going to be your first lesson. You can’t saddle a horse until it’s been groomed.”

  “Can’t the grooming wait until later?”

  “Do you really think I want to groom your mount and mine?”

  Jonathan interrupted them. “Good day, Mr. Miller…Good day, Grace.”

  “What’s new, Jonathan?” Matt asked.

  Jonathan thought for a moment. Matt liked this about the boy. He hadn’t gotten around to adopting meaningless social banter. He really was going to tell you what was new. “Not much. Father’s cleaning the horses. They got into the mud.”

  “Why aren’t you helping?” Grace said.

  “I’m here to help,” the boy replied.

  Matt looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “You’re here for the improprieties, aren’t you?”

  “Not for improprieties,” Jonathan said. “To prevent them.”

  “You’ve learned to say the word,” Matt said. “Now you need to know what they are.”

  “Easy,” he exclaimed. “It’s kissing, holding hands, and all those other things.”

  “There’s a lady present,” Grace warned. She said it in a way that Matt knew she wasn’t joking.

  Matt motioned Jonathan into the corral. “You might as well help groom.”

  “We need plenty of water,” Grace said, motioning to the horse.

  “How much is this lesson going to cost?” Matt asked.

  “One shilling,” Grace replied.

  “I pay one shilling to wash your horse?” Matt exclaimed.

  “You’re free to hire another,” she said with a clever smile. “I’m sure the Paynes could instruct you.”

  “Funny,” Matt said in a sarcastic tone.

  “I thought so,” she replied. “You boys ready to carry water?”

  They spent the next two hours going over the subtleties of grooming. Matt tried to hurry things along by emphasizing his injuries, but Grace mostly ignored him. Joshua looked like a new horse when they were done. It was warm enough that he was dry by the time they had their supplies back in the barn, so they were able to spread more ointment on his back.

  “Other horses need my attention,” she said, walking away.

  “When can I actually sit on a horse?” Matt said, calling after her.

  “Tomorrow, provided that you return from Richmond in one piece. Will has some conceit that you’ll be taking a meal at the King’s Tavern.” She disappeared around the corner.

  “Are you all going to fight Levi again?” Jonathan asked.

  “Hopefully he’s in no condition,” Matt said. “I don’t even know if he’ll be there.”

  “The Paynes go there every Sunday,” Jonathan said.

  “I don’t think you have to worry. Both Nathan and Paul seem like reasonable men.”

  “I used to like Paul when he was going to marry Kathryn,” Jonathan said. “We would have been brothers if they were married.”

  “Where was Levi when this was all going on?”

  “He was around sometimes,” Jonathan said. “He’d always try to make me play games with him and fight.”

  “Fight?”

  �
��He said a boy should be tough. He didn’t know how to play, though.”

  “What’d you mean?”

  “It’s like Will does with me ofttimes. You know, punching and stuff. It’s fun.”

  “And?”

  “Levi’s punches hurt,” Jonathan said. “He always forgot that he was playing with a boy half his size.”

  “There’s one thing we agree on,” Matt said. “Levi should learn to not punch so hard.”

  “I don’t think anyone could teach him,” Jonathan said. “Sometimes his eyes look like Shadow’s.”

  “What? Like the horse?”

  “Like he’s crazy or something,” Jonathan said. “One day I’ll be big enough.”

  His fists were clenched.

  26

  St. John’s Church

  It was the Sabbath and Matt dreaded waking up. He sat up slowly in his bed, hissing in agony. It was better than yesterday, but not by much. He had taken two more ibuprofen tablets the previous night, but miracle drug that it was, it would still take more than a few days for him not to grimace in pain at every movement. The dog turned his eyes to watch.

  “Good morning, dog,” Matt said. Scout picked his head up and looked at the closed door. Matt shimmied to him and scratched his head. “I ache,” he said. “You’ve my permission to bite that bastard next time you see him.” The dog moved his head around for Matt to scratch the other side. It occurred to Matt that this was the first time he had actually touched the dog.

  “I guess I should start getting ready for church,” Matt said. “I’m dressing as a colonial gentleman today, new shoes and all.”

  The dog tilted his head in that way he did, like he understood.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” Matt said, smiling. “I can pull it off.”

  Matt hopped onto the floor, stepped into his hiking boots, and made his way to the privy. The sun was starting to be visible on the horizon. The privy was cold from the night air and he was wearing only a cotton tee shirt, so it was impossible to get comfortable. He got up as soon as he was finished and went back to the barn to wash. He filled his basins at the well, brought them back to the barn in two trips, and shut the door. He stripped down and washed his entire body with ice-cold water, used shampoo from his pack to wash his hair, and then shaved.

  It took him the greater part of an hour to complete all of this. He felt his face, and it seemed smooth. With no mirror, there was no way to tell if his sideburns were even. He finished up by combing his hair, which was starting to get long. A haircut would be another thing to get on his next trip to Richmond, unless this was something one of the Taylor women could do. Giving a reasonable haircut seemed like a skill a colonial mother would have. He dried his body and pulled on a pair of pants. There was a knock on the door shortly after.

  “Mr. Miller, are you awake?”

  “I’m awake,” Matt called out. “Thanks.”

  “Can we come in?”

  “Open the door,” Matt called. The door slid open and the two youngest Taylor boys walked in.

  “Hi, Mr. Miller,” they said in unison.

  “How’d you sleep?” Matt replied.

  “Very well!” Jonathan said. “Hi, Scout!” He walked over to pet the dog.

  “What about you, Jeb?” Matt asked the older boy, who was looking unsure of himself.

  “I slept well, I guess.”

  “Is it Sara Greene?” Matt asked.

  “I can’t stop thinking about her!” Jeb exclaimed. “Something is wrong with me.”

  “That’s what they do,” Matt replied, laughing. “They drive you mad.”

  “Even when you’re as old as you?” Jeb asked. He wasn’t joking.

  “Even as old as me,” Matt said with some chagrin. “I’m only twenty-six.”

  Jonathan gave Matt a big smile and Matt returned it with a fake scowl. “Don’t even say it,” Matt said.

  “Jeb can’t stop thinking of Sara Greene,” Jonathan said, “and Mr. Miller can’t stop thinking of Grace.”

  “Oh, everyone knows that,” Jeb replied matter-of-factly.

  “What do you mean, everyone knows?” Matt said, surprised.

  “Do you have trouble sleeping?” Jeb asked.

  Grace had continually occupied Matt’s thoughts during these last days and there were times when he would lie in bed trying to think of her entirely, but usually he was so tired at the end of the day that he had trouble keeping his eyes open. Maybe I am getting old. “I have no comment,” he said, chuckling. “Anyway, I don’t want to talk about Grace.”

  “Did you two quarrel?” Jeb asked.

  “No, we didn’t quarrel,” Matt replied, incredulous. “We don’t even know each other.”

  “You should make a better acquaintance,” Jeb said. “That’s why I speak to Sara.”

  “Did you two come to discuss my love life, or was there something else?”

  “You love Grace?” Jonathan said.

  “No, I don’t love Grace,” Matt replied quickly.

  “You admire her, though, right?”

  “Yes!” Matt said, slipping.

  “When will you tell her?”

  “I’m too old to tell a girl I admire her.”

  “Should I tell Sara Greene that I think of her constantly?” Jeb asked.

  “No! You gotta be cool.”

  “How does being cold help?” Jeb asked.

  “It’s something we say in Philadelphia,” Matt said. “Being cool around a girl means you’re all calm and confident. You act like you aren’t impressed she’s talking to you.”

  “I can do that,” Jeb replied.

  “Don’t be too cool, though. You must still act interested.”

  “Being cool sounds complicated,” Jeb said.

  “Sara Greene doesn’t always ignore you,” Jonathan observed. “She must admire you a little.”

  “You’re a good-looking young man from a good family,” Matt said. “What’s not to admire?”

  “Jeb wants to use the toothbrush,” Jonathan said. “The ladies love a man—”

  “Don’t repeat that,” Matt said. The boy smiled. Matt handed his toothbrush over to the boys. He cleaned up his toiletries while they finished brushing.

  “Did you use the toothbrush, Mr. Miller?” Jonathan asked. “It may work on Grace.”

  “Don’t push it, kid,” Matt said, giving him a stern smile. “Before you go, I need two things. First, look to see if my back is bleeding, and then tell me if my sideburns are straight.” They took the next couple of minutes trimming Matt’s sideburns and putting a bandage on his back.

  The dog watched the boys go and Matt shut the barn door behind them. “Interesting characters. Let’s get these new clothes on.”

  He spent more time than he expected figuring out how to get dressed, as the dog looked on with seemingly profound interest. Matt dressed in white stockings, dark grey breeches, a white shirt, and then the new black shoes. He tied the cravat as well as he could and then finished it off with a dark grey waistcoat that matched the breeches and the tricorner hat Will gave him. He didn’t have a mirror, but he imagined that he looked reasonably colonial.

  “Ready to go?” he said to the dog. Scout hopped off the bed and followed him out the door. He stayed by Matt’s side all the way to the house, then took his position on the porch. Matt knocked on the door and it opened soon after.

  “Good morning, Mr. Miller,” Grace said. She wore a blue dress with white trim and matching blue ribbons in her hair. The ribbons highlighted her blond hair and made her eyes look bluer.

  A drop-dead beauty! Matt smiled. “Where is everyone?”

  “Late start,” she replied. “Father and Uncle talked into the night.”

  “Anything important?”

  “You’ll dine with them today?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  “It doesn’t vex you that Levi will be there?” she asked.

  “Sure, it vexes me,” Matt said. The word felt weird coming out of his
mouth.

  “He’s expressed his desire to kill you,” Grace said. There was concern in her voice that pulled him in.

  “He’ll think twice,” Matt replied. “He knows I won’t back down.”

  “Every quarrel need not always end in you striking someone,” she said.

  “Should I run away like a coward, then?”

  Grace looked at him silently, impossible to read. “Shall I fix your cravat?” she finally asked.

  “I didn’t have a mirror. I must have tied it five times trying to get it right.”

  “I tie them for my brothers,” she said. “Come hither.”

  Matt walked forward, and Grace reached up to fix his necktie. She was agonizingly close as she set the length and began tying the silk around his neck. He drank her in as he cataloged every detail of her face, from her blue eyes to her nose, to her full red lips and the smooth white neck that peeked out from under blond hair. Every casual touch of her fingers shocked him into some higher form of consciousness and it took all his control not to pull her close and kiss her passionately. The scientist in him wondered what it was about her proximity that affected him so profoundly. Did she give off an electric field or pheromones that made his knees weak?

  Grace finally stepped back and looked at her handiwork. “Perfect.”

  He had to consciously wake himself from the spell she had cast. “Thanks, Grace.”

  “Maybe Graine will be there,” Grace said, teasing.

  “Henry assured me that I’ll be very fashionable in these new clothes,” Matt replied, “and that I would impress the ladies.”

  Grace looked him up and down. “You may capture Graine’s attention,” she replied. “You’re the type of man she fancies.”

  “What kind of man is that?” Matt asked. He was intrigued to hear her assessment.

  “Bookish, but handsome,” she replied.

  “Bookish? That’s a horrible thing to say about a man.”

  “’Tis a compliment.” She thought for a moment and said, “Men of letters are usually wealthy. We’ll not tell her you work as a farmhand…or the drunkard part.”