Fool's Gold

by Steve Stroble

America for almost four years. My master’s wife Andrea taught me.”

  “Andrea? Your masters are the Thompsons? Speak German, please. It is easier that way.”

  Rudolph obeyed. “Yes. Arnold told me where to find you.”

  “Is it true that your brother is still alive?”

  “Yes. I had to come after you to tell you so you could return home. My family wrote me and said that your family still has not heard from you.”

  “I didn’t want anyone to know where I was.” Thomas came nearer. “It’s all right, James. I believe him.”

  “You sure?” James saw Thomas nod. “Okay. I’ll be getting on back to bed then. You all do your talking outside and keep it down so’s you don’t wake no one else up, you hear?”

  Thomas lowered his voice. “How did you get here?” He led the way to the pond.

  “A Mr. Harlan gave me a ride. He told tales that made him sound like an American Baron von Munchhausen.”

  Thomas sat down on the bench. “He is not like the Baron. From what I’ve heard, Harlan is quite famous here in America.”

  Thomas told of how he had become a skilled furniture maker. Rudolph laughed as he detailed how he had built what Arnold called “the best distillery in New England.” He then explained how Andrea had slipped into madness for which there seemed to be no immediate cure. Then he asked Thomas to join him at the orchard.

  “It is such a beautiful land with many forests and snow in the winter, like Bavaria.”

  “Ah, Bavaria. How I miss it. Funny, isn’t it? We hardly knew each other there. Now we talk of working together. But don’t you want to go back home?”

  “I would not survive the voyage. If the seasickness did not kill me, disease would. We had four die on the way over. You know we would never be rich back in Bavaria. Maybe I could work all my life in the brewery there. But here I can work hard and one day own my own brewery. I already have customers for my apple brandy.”

  “It’s that good?”

  “Of course. There is much demand for furniture where I live. Much of it comes from Boston and is very expensive because of the freight charges. You could make much money.”

  “I don’t know. Sometimes I think I should go back to Bavaria.”

  “Wait until you see the women in Pittsfield. That will convince you to come to the orchard. There is one who even likes me.”

  They broke into laughter. Then they discussed other possibilities until dawn. The crowing rooster alerted Thomas that his long workday had arrived. But breakfast came first – hot griddlecakes with butter and syrup, ham, eggs, biscuits, buttermilk, and cup after cup of coffee. They kept talking nonstop as they ate. Their use of German unnerved James.

  “I think they plans for Thomas to run off.” James shook his head.

  Only able to understand bits of the conversation, Dominic asked Thomas, “Are you leaving?”

  “My time is over here in six months. Then I will go. I’m not sure if it will be back home to Bavaria or to stay in America.”

  “Well, now that you ain’t worried ‘bout someone chasing after you least you can do is write your mammy and pappy,” James said.

  “Yes, I should. I will give you a letter to send to them from Philadelphia, Rudolph.”

  “Maybe you should ask them to come to America. I am writing my family in Poland to come here,” Dominic said. “I still plan to go to New York.”

  “Neither one of you all wants to stay on and work as hired help for Mr. Bates no more? Once your time as indentured servants be over he starts to pay you like he pay me.”

  They shook their heads no.

  “I tell you what.” James lowered his voice. “I been the head negra for Mr. Bates for long enough. What they call me in Georgia be the same thing I be here. One of you all takes me along? I tired from running things around here.”

  Thomas and Dominic began to argue. Thomas knew his success in the furniture making business would be ensured even if he took James back to Germany. His skill rivaled that of the woodworking craftsmen back in Bavaria. Dominic wanted James to be his paid servant to impress his family when they arrived in their new land. Their debate amused James.

  “Can’t remember nobody ever be fighting over me.”

  Frustrated, Thomas told James to choose an offer.

  “Well, my bones be aching all the time from working in the cotton fields starting when I was five.” James held up his hands, their joints swollen with arthritis. “Not too much furniture making left in these hands no more.”

  “Do you really want Dominic to be your boss?”

  “Well he be telling me how his people the Jews be getting the short end of the stick for thousands of years. Even showed it to me in the Bible. Them mean ol’ Egyptians, Assyrians, Babylonians, and Romans don’t be messing around when they fights his people. So maybe even though he be white maybe he be treating me better than the plantation owner or Mr. Bates treat me.”

  “But you’ll be his only servant. You’ll have to do everything.”

  “That only be temporary. We gonna be living in a mansion in New York. Won’t be long ‘fore I be bossing the butlers, cooks, maids, and buggy drivers around.”

  “But I thought you didn’t like being in charge of other servants.”

  “Not on a plantation or farm I don’t. That be hard. But in a mansion? That be easy as pie. No more working in the fields in the rain and cold and heat. Shoot. Up there in New York you don’t even has to butcher your own meat. They gots butchers everywhere does it for you. Don’t have to milk no cow, neither.”

  “A mansion?”

  “He already showed me the neighborhood he gonna live in the last time we took furniture to New York.”

  Thomas smirked. “Well I’ll talk you out of it by the time I leave.”

  “Nothin’ to be talking ‘bout. Dominic’s got money.”

  “Money?” Thomas stared at Dominic. “But we never get paid.”

  “Ol’ Dominic ain’t no fool,” James explained. “Every time he goes to Philadelphia for supplies he takes along the toys he and me be carving out of scraps of wood left over from the saw mill. Then we paint ‘em.”

  “But I thought that was your hobby.”

  “Mighty powerful one for making money. Dominic here got the nose for business like a hound dog got the nose for a bear or coon or possum. He talks a blue streak till the shop owners be buying every last one of them toys. While you be getting drunk and chasing girls in your time off, him and me be carving up a storm. We got us a good chunk of money all saved up for when we leaves this here place.”

  Thomas pouted. He abandoned his plan of taking James with him. Instead he spent the last of his free time at the Bates’ farm writing letters to his family and Rudolph, waiting for their replies, eagerly reading them when they arrived, making plans, and then dreaming about them day and night. When he left his first job in America he headed northeast toward the fortune that he was certain awaited him at the orchard.

  10

  Working in the orchard was an education for Thomas. Listening to Rudolph’s new bride was even more of one. By the time Thomas arrived there, Rudolph had married a local woman whom he had pursued for over a year. Jane’s religious beliefs rattled Thomas. Her sincerity meant little as her dogmatic recitation of her doctrines grated on his nerves. To avoid her Thomas spent his days in the orchard, the small distillery, or in town delivering their products. He depended on a knowledgeable tavern owner to explain the eccentricities peculiar to Americans in 1843.

  “It is much simpler in Bavaria,” Thomas said. “We were Lutheran or Catholic. Here there are so many different churches.”

  The tavern keeper filled a mug with beer and handed it to Thomas. “Well, here in America we have every kind of belief and then some. You’ve got people who separate themselves from everyone else to live in their own little communities. They say they are making a utopia on earth. Then there are the spiritualists who say they can contact the dead. They call themselves mediums. The
n there are the revivalists like Charles Finney who preach hellfire and brimstone. But there’s a whole lot more churches with Catholics and Lutherans than all of them other ones. So what’s your problem?”

  “My friend’s wife goes to a church that says Jesus is returning to Earth any day now. I never heard such a thing in Bavaria or even here in America until now.”

  “Must be one of those Millerites.” He pulled out a stack of tracts and newspapers that he kept under the bar for when the conversation turned to religion. That, politics, and women were most often discussed by his customers. After searching through the publications he found one that quoted Miller. “Here it is. This is what Miller says: ‘My principles in brief, are that Jesus Christ will come again to earth, cleanse, purify, and take possession of the same, with all the saints, sometime between March 21, 1843 and March 21, 1844.’ So according to Miller, it could be any day now.” He folded the paper. “Amazing how many have been jumping on that bandwagon. Some of my customers even gave up drinking my booze because of his prediction.” He handed the paper to Thomas. “Here. Maybe this will help you understand your friend’s wife. Hope so. The way I see it is if Jesus didn’t tell the year that He’d be coming back, what makes Miller and his bunch think that they know? What makes them that special?”

  Thomas spent a few days studying the paper before giving it to Rudolph. “All I’m saying is they could be wrong.”

  “Shhh. Don’t ever let her hear you say that. And whenever you want to talk about her beliefs,