by Kris Tualla
The door to the office swung open. A tall man—nearly as tall as Reid—stuck his head in. “Is this the land grant office?”
“I do!” Reid shouted, unsure of how many grants were still to be awarded.
“Sign here,” the clerk handed Reid the quill. He faced the newcomer. “It is.”
The man glanced at Reid, then back at the clerk as he stepped inside the office. “Is there land still available?”
“There is,” he answered.
The man grinned. “I’d like to apply.”
“Be with you shortly.”
Reid bent over and scratched his signature at the bottom of the document, solidifying his prior claim to whatever tracts were being released. He handed the paper back to the clerk.
“Over there on the table are the plots. Yours is number fifty-seven,” the clerk said. He lifted another printed sheet and looked at the next man. “Name?”
Reid crossed to the table, listening with half-an-ear to the answers.
“James Rikard Atherton.”
“Wife?”
“Beatrice.”
“Children?”
“No.”
“Born?”
“Raleigh, North Carolina.”
“Year?”
“Seventeen-fifty-two.”
“Age today?”
“Twenty-nine.”
The clerk squinted at the paper. “Raise your right hand.”
Reid looked at the topographical map for plot fifty-seven. He also perused the one for plot fifty-eight, making an assumption which quickly proved correct. James joined him at the table, and Reid laid the maps side-by-side.
“So we shall be neighbors.” Reid offered his hand. “Reidar Hansen. Call me Reid.”
James shook Reid’s hand. “James Atherton. Call me James.”
The men bent over the maps.
“Will you be farming, James?” Reid asked.
“That is my plan. I’ll grow tobacco, wheat, and corn to sell,” he replied.
Reid raised his brow. “That’s ambitious.”
James’ smile was confident. “I’ve got slaves coming from North Carolina with my wife.”
Reid hadn’t thought much about slaves, other than to know that owning them wasn’t a path he would ever choose. But then, he wasn’t a farmer. He tilted his head, considering the layout of the two grants.
“You have quite a bit of forested hills in this section,” Reid pointed at the map. “That will be tough to farm.”
James nodded. “True… You have some nice land in this part, however. What will you grow?”
Reid shook his head. “I’m not much for farming. I’m more of a hunter. I understand there are plenty of beaver, fox, wolf, and bear in the woods. Their pelts fetch a nice price back east.”
“So you won’t plant this land?” James sounded disappointed.
“I don’t plan to.” Reid straightened as did James, until the two men met eye-to-eye. “I do have an idea, however.”
“I’m listening,” James said.
“What if we redrew the boundary between the plots,” Reid suggested.
“I get your flat land and you get my hills?” James clarified.
“Exactly.” Reid turned to the clerk who sat silently at his desk writing up their deeds. “May we do that?”
The clerk scratched his head. “As long as none of the outer borders are affected, I don’t suppose it matters what you two do a’tween yourselves.”
Reid and James grinned at each other.They spent the next hour with graphite pencils, trying to evenly apportion the land according to the topography. They were not successful; there was simply more arable land than hills.
“There is one last option,” Reid posited, stroking his two-month beard.
James stretched and rubbed his lower back. “What?”
Reid ran his finger over their most recent re-written border. “We split the land as we have it drawn here, then I lease these two hundred acres to you to farm.”
James tapped his chin thoughtfully. “What terms?”
“A percentage of the profits seems fair,” Reid offered.
“Ten percent?” James asked.
“Thirty,” Reid countered.
James scoffed. “Fifteen.”
Reid wagged his head back and forth, his lips pressed together. “Twenty-five. After all, the land will lay fallow otherwise,” he bartered.
“I can’t afford that. I have costs, you know,” James objected. “Shall we simply settle on the twenty percent we are both heading toward and go have luncheon together?”
Reid laughed. He shook James’ hand again, this time sealing their bargain. “I think you and I are going to get along very well.”
After explaining to the clerk exactly where they wanted their shared border to be drawn, the two men stepped out into the balmy spring air and hazy sunshine of the spring day.
“Are those your horses?” James asked nodding toward the big pair Reid had tied to the rail.
“They are,” Reid answered. “They’re Vermont Drafters.”
“I’m not familiar with the breed,” James said as he walked up to the saddled stallion. “He’s, what, seventeen hands?”
“Roughly.” Reid patted the animal on the neck. “He wasn’t saddle broke when I bought him, so the ride was interesting.”
James chuckled. “You’ll breed him to the mare, of course.”
“Might be able to sell a few foals if they prove fertile enough,” Reid replied. The big animal nuzzled his shoulder, his tail busily whisking away flies.
“When did you arrive in St. Louis?” James asked.
Reid grinned. “An hour ago.”
James looked surprised. “Where are you staying?”
Reid shrugged. “I don’t know.”
James clapped him on the shoulder. “In that event, let’s go to my hotel to eat and get you sorted for the night.”
“I am guarding my funds rather tightly,” Reid explained, determined not to be embarrassed by his situation. “I’ll find a spot out-of-doors.”
“Nonsense!” James objected. “I want to begin laying plans with you, neighbor, and I can’t do that if you are off in some hidey hole somewhere. Besides,” he clapped Reid on the shoulder, “I’ll pay for it. After all, I might have agreed to twenty-five percent.”
Reid laughed at that. “Then I accept. Because, I might have agreed to fifteen!”
*****
At the Saint Louis Auberge, James arranged for Reid’s room while he took care of his horses. Their comfort was more important than his own, in truth. Without their assistance he could not carve out his home in the wilderness. He paid a little extra to see them both well fed and his pack of supplies well guarded.
“I ordered you a bath and a shave,” James said once Reid joined him in the dining room. “I hope that’s acceptable.”
Reid’s first response was to be offended. Who was this man to pass judgment on his condition? Thankfully, his good sense kicked in before he said anything rude—as did his desire for both of those luxuries. God only knew when he would have the chance to enjoy either again.
“Thank you, James. I appreciate it,” he said.
James waived a dismissive hand. “What’s the point of having money if you can’t spread it around?”
Reid peered at his new acquaintance. “If you have money, what are you doing out here?”
James’ lips curved. “Now that’s a story.”
“I have time,” Reid prodded.
“I’ll tell you mine, then you tell me yours. Agreed?” James said as their server approached the table.
“Agreed.”
“We have smoked meat and fish,” the man stated without ceremony. “Which’ll it be?”
“What sort of meat?” Reid asked. He’d had enough rabbit and squirrel during the past long weeks of travel to last him a lifetime or two.
“Bison.”
“And the fish?” James asked.
“Bass.”
“And I’ll have the same,” James said. “And a pitcher of beer.”
The man walked away as abruptly as he arrived. He returned immediately with a foaming pitcher and two tall crockery mugs. He set everything on the table with a resounding thunk.
“Food’ll be here presently,” he mumbled before lumbering off.
“Charming fellow,” James quipped.
Reid poured the beer. “Your story?”
“Ah yes.” James lifted his mug and leaned back. He stretched his long legs under the table, careful not to hit Reid’s. “My wife is a beautiful woman who comes from a wealthy family,” he began. “I have money of my own, mind you, but her family has been in America longer.”
“Do I detect an accent?” Reid asked.
“My parents were from Sussex. I’ve been told I speak a sort of southern English, English, if you understand what I mean?” James said with a quirk of his mouth.
Reid chuckled. “I do. Go on.”
“Her family owns a tobacco plantation in North Carolina. Very large, very lucrative.” James sipped his beer. “And while Beatrice is the darling of the family, she does have an older brother.”
“Who will inherit the plantation,” Reid finished the thought.
“Precisely.”
Reid drank his beer as well, finding it surprisingly good. “So you came here to establish yourself?”
“That, and to escape the fighting. You know that most of the battles have now moved south?” James asked.
Reid nodded. “I was a colonel in the Continental Army until a few months ago.”
“Were you?” James leaned forward. “Why did you leave?”
Reid shook his head. “Finish your story first.”
“Fair enough. “ James leaned back again. “We married a year ago. No children as yet. When I decided to come for the land grant, she stayed behind. I’ll send word that we are all set and she’ll come by boat with everything we own.”
“And everyone,” Reid added.
James’ brow lifted. “Pardon?”
“Your slaves,” Reid clarified, careful not to allow judgment to seep into his tone.
“Oh! Right.” James bounced a nod. “I’ll probably settle her here in Saint Louis until I can get enough of our house built to live in comfortably.”
“What sort of structure will you build?” Reid asked of a sudden. He hadn’t thought much about his own home beyond the log cabin he must finish before winter set in. Now that he was a landowner, he needed to consider these things.
I’m a landowner. He smiled into his beer.
“Something quite solid. Stone and brick, I imagine. You know about the tornadoes, don’t you?” James queried.
Reid frowned. “No. What are they?”
James’ arms whirled in the air. “Massively strong, sudden, circular winds. They can tear a tree out by its roots and leave the house standing next to it untouched. And vice versa.”
In spite of the violent storms he experienced on his journey, Reid found that description a bit ludicrous. “Are you joking?”
James’ eyes pinned his. “Not in the least. You’ll see.”
Their plates of smoked bison meat were plopped in front of them, along with a loaf of hot bread and a crock of butter. The food smelled so good that Reid’s stomach rumbled audibly. He grabbed his fork.
“So you’ll build of brick and stone, then,” he said before taking his first bite.
James nodded and stuck his fork into the tender meat heaped on his plate. “I will. I have the plans with me. I’ll begin modestly and add on as each part is completed.”
Reid broke a chunk of bread from the loaf. “That seems wise. Perhaps I’ll do the same.”
“Do you have plans with you as well?” James asked.
Reid shook his head. “I wasn’t certain I would get the land. I’ll come up with something.”
James rested his elbows on either side of his plate and tore a piece of bread into chunks, popping each piece into his mouth. “So what about you, Reid? What’s your story?”
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Reid blew a breath out loose lips. “I was born in Boston to a pair of Norwegian immigrants who met on the ship coming over. My father studied engineering and architecture at Oxford before deciding to come to this continent.”
“Well that explains your coloring and your size,” James chortled. “I so seldom meet a man whom I can look in the eye, not in the scalp.”
Reid rolled his eyes. “I know what you mean. I get a crick in my neck at times.”
James laughed. “Did you go to university?”
Reid nodded. “Harvard. I studied engineering and architecture like my father.”
“So designing your own house won’t be a problem,” James observed, still forking meat into his mouth.
“I don’t believe so, though I never was able to put my education to use,” he admitted.
James’ brow furrowed. “Why not?”
“War. It came to Boston first,” Reid answered.
“Right! The ‘tea party’!” James exclaimed.
“That was December of seventy-three. I was twenty-three at the time. Fights erupted everywhere and full on battles began in seventy-five. I’ve been fighting ever since,” Reid said.
James grunted. “Nine years.”
He nodded, speaking around a mouthful of bison. “Indeed.”
“Why did you resign?” James asked.
Reid pulled a heavy sigh and gulped the rest of his beer. He refilled his stein and then James’ as he spoke.
“I was injured in a blast in Philadelphia, set by a British sympathizer I was tracking who had volunteered in the Continental Army. As a result, I have a large scar in my thigh which limits me some, plus my eyes were burnt and I’m still sensitive to too much light. But I did receive the promotion to colonel for my efforts.”
James threw up his hands. “You were tracking? What does that mean?”
Reid allowed a crooked smile. Admitting a little truth here in this remote wilderness was probably safe. “I was a type of spy. For the Americans.”
The other man’s jaw dropped. “You were?”
Reid merely smiled and swallowed a mouthful of meat and beer.
“Did you at least catch the man?” James pressed.
“Oh, yes. He swung quite nicely.” Reid winked at James. “For about seven minutes, as I recall.”
A laugh burst upward from James’ chest. “He deserved that. I’ll wager.”
Reid’s mood sobered. “He killed five men, and injured three others. Not to mention the loss of munitions. I would say he deserved even more.”
The men ate in silence for a few minutes before James prodded Reid to continue. “What brought you here, then?”
“I had no prospects in Boston, and only my soldier’s back pay. When I saw the advertisement for the grants I had nothing to lose. Besides,” Reid wiped the last bit of meat from his plate with a chunk of bread, “I’m ready for some peace and quiet—and some honest labor building things up, not blowing them up.”
James nodded. “I certainly understand that after this past year.” He swiped up the last bit of his meal as well. “So, are you married?”
Reid’s heart lurched. Skitt. “No.”
“You’re not?” James’ appeared sincerely surprised. “Forgive me for asking, but why not?”
If he was going to live the rest of his life as this man’s neighbor, there was no reason to begin that relationship with a lie. “She wouldn’t have me.”
“Was she blind?” James blurted. “Or merely a fool?”
Reid coughed a rough laugh. “Å min Gud. If only she was.”
James reached into his pocket and pulled out a few coins. He set them on the table and drained his beer. Then he stood and pointed at Reid.
“First, I assume that was Norse, so you need to teach me some. Secondly, let’s go procure our land de
eds and make certain they are correct.”
Reid rose to his feet and rubbed his stiffened right thigh. “Agreed.”
The pointing continued. “And third, when we have supper tonight I’m ordering a bottle of whiskey and you are telling me about this woman.”
Reid made a face. “Is that necessary?”
“The whiskey? Yes.” James grinned. “The story? Perhaps not. But I’m interested.”
“We shall see,” Reid gave a little ground. “But I will require quite a lot of whiskey.”
*****
“Cheltenham?” Reid looked at the clerk. “Where is that?”
“About ten miles southwest of where we are standing,” he said. “Your plot is south of the town center, and yours,” he pointed to James, “is south of his.”
James peered at the map of his plot. “This appears to be drawn correctly. Reid?”
Reid examined his own map. “Yes. Yes, it does. We’ll have to amend the documents ourselves afterwards to map out the lease.”
“And write up the terms,” James added.
Reid looked at James. “We should do that while we are here in town so the signatures can be witnessed.”
“Might you do that for us?” James asked the clerk.
“I suppose,” he agreed.
“Shall we do it now? Finish our business?” Reid suggested.
James nodded and crossed to the big table. “Let’s do.”
The men spent the next hour-and-a-half writing and copying their contract, and signing all legal documents related to both the lands grants and their lease agreement. When they finished, and all signatures were in place along with the official stamps, Reid straightened and allowed the reality to wash over him.
“By, God. I own five hundred acres of land,” he said to James, awestruck. “And just over a year from now, I will begin receiving an income off your efforts.”
“It won’t be much to begin with,” James warned.
“My salary as an army officer was only forty dollars a year,” he admitted. “And I wasn’t always paid.”
“In that case, you’ll feel like royalty!” James teased, grinning.
Reid’s heart gave another lurch. Skitt skitt skitt. He rolled up his papers. “Let’s go. I’m ready for that bath.”
