I immediately surmised this must be a local minister.
He asked, “May I join you?” I extended my hand to the empty chair at my table. He sat down and offering his hand began, “I’m tha local Methodist Minister, Pastor Jake Chambers.”
I responded, “I’m Jim Hager.” We both solemnly shook hands.
He peppered me with all the same questions that everyone else had asked, but then he queried, “Where are ya staying?”
I mentioned, “Tha Gray’s home.”
This caused him to raise his eyebrows in surprise. Then he said, “I understand that ya have been given tha local school teacher’s job. Doesn’t that give you pause to stay with tha Grays?”
I replied, “I guess word gets around fast about my being appointed to tha new job. But, I don’t know why staying with tha Grays would give me pause in my job. Hattie Gray was tha one who suggested I talk with Mr. Throckmorton about tha school teacher vacancy.”
He raised his eyebrows again and said, “Really?”
I thought this was odd and added, “Why would ya say that?”
He just shrugged and said, “Oh, nothing. Forget I mentioned it.”
I didn’t try to pry any additional information, but planned to talk with Hattie about it when I returned.
Pastor Chambers slyly got to the point of bestowing his presence on me. “Since ya will be in tha forefront of tha community, a pillar of tha community, ya might say, which church will ya be attending on Sunday?”
This had never occurred to me as a responsibility that would accompany my new job, but I began to understand that cultural and religious duties were thrust on certain office and job holders in a 19th century town whether they liked it or not. In a very respectful and sincere voice I told the Pastor, “I’m an ecumenical believer.”
This baffled him and he gave me a quizzical look.
So I further explained, “I don’t attend just one specific church, but visit a different one each Sunday.”
This brought forth a most non-ecumenical question, “How can ya adhere to tha tenets of each faith to get into heaven? It would seem to be an impossible task.”
“Well, I believe therah are some basic tenets of each faith that if undertaken will allow anyone into God’s realm,” I rationalized.
He looked at me as if I had grown horns. “Well, we’ll have to speak more ‘bout this,” he said.
I interjected, “Yes, we will.” Then I got up, extended my hand, which he reluctantly shook, put a nickel on the table and walked to the bank.
The bank was open when I got there and I got a withdrawal of $40.00. The teller eyed me grudgingly, but didn’t question my extraction. I mean withdrawal.
Once I retrieved the money, I returned to the livery stable. Mr. Heintz, true to our deal, had Beauregard saddled and ready to go. I paid him four dollars for four days, mounted the dazed animal, bent down to look Mr. Heintz in the eye, which made him move back a step or two, and asked him pointedly, “What type of tricks has Beauregard played on previous riders?“
“Well, Ole Beau don’t like any steam whistles from boats or trains. They make him a bit skittish. If’n he gets real tired, he’s liable to just lay down in tha road. If kicked too hard, he’s liable to buck ya off. That’s about all he does,” Mr. Heintz admitted.
In my estimation that was more than enough tricks to contemplate. I looked at the man rather dubiously and uttered, “Uh huh.” I saluted him and kicked Ole Beau hard in the flanks, which must have roused him from his perpetual daze, because he trotted out of the stable at a fast clip. I directed him south on the Shepherdstown Pike toward Halltown. I was told this was the better road than the one that skirted the Potomac River. The Halltown road was longer, but not as rugged.
Beau kept trotting so I let him go and just hung on for dear life. He had the worst gait that I had ever experienced. I was bouncing up and down like a rag doll with my vertebrae being jammed with each step of this four-legged threshing machine. After about ten minutes I finally had enough and capitulated by pulling back on the reins and saying whoa. Beau stopped abruptly which pitched me forward but not far enough to have the front part of the saddle do any damage to the tender parts of my anatomy.
Beau just stood there in the middle of the road with his head tucked in and his shoulders scrunched as if he believed he was going to be hit over the head. I reasoned that is what usually happened to the poor dumb animal due to his unusual means of locomotion. I took a moment to appraise the cayuse and map out a plan on how to handle this anomaly of the equestrian species.
I reached down and patted him on the side of the neck and gently touched him with the heels of my brogans. He shambled forward at a walk toward Harpers Ferry and hopefully answers to some of my historical questions.
Ole Beau and I got further acquainted as the day went along. We stopped by a stream after about what seemed like five hours, but was only two. I took Beau down to the stream and he slurped the clear water willingly. I didn’t let him have too much. I remembered that from the Saturday morning ‘My Friend Flicka’ TV shows when I was a kid.
I sat down by the stream, drank liberally from my canteen and ate a portion of the victuals that Hattie prepared. When I had eaten my fill, I refilled my canteen in the cold stream that I hoped wasn’t polluted. Since the water was cold, I reasoned it came from a spring and was pure. Then we got back on the road.
We didn’t seem to pass a lot of wagons on the road, but there were a few riders that passed us heading north. They weren’t in a hurry, so I stopped to talk to one older gentleman. I asked, “Have you heard of a Yankee army being in the area?”
“No”, he replied, but added, “I did read in a newspaper that therah is one that’s supposed to be coming out of Washington City any day now and move into northern Virginia with a mind to take Fredericksburg. General Johnston will probably maneuver his army to delay tha Yanks without puttin up a fight. But he’s gonna have to fight to keep Fredericksburg from falling into enemy hands.”
Well, it seems some things never change no matter what universe to which you are assigned. Joe Johnston would rather back up than move forward for an attack in any realm.
I asked about Stonewall Jackson’s Army of the Valley. The man just looked at me quizzically and said, “If you mean General Thomas Jackson, he’s probably gonna reinforce Johnston again. They stymied a Yankee move like this back in 1861.”
I asked the name of the Commanding Yankee General that was leading the advance and the gentleman said, “Well, it’s Hancock, of course.” My lower jaw dropped and I must have seemed like a dunce to the traveler. I apologized and explained I had just gotten here from Arkansas and was trying to catch up on all the news. That appeared to satisfy him. We exchanged some further pleasantries then parted ways.
I decided to stay in Halltown for the night. It was just an hour’s ride from Harpers Ferry and I had been beat to a frazzle by Beau. Thank heavens that each town, no matter what size, usually had a livery stable. I got Beau bedded down for the night for just fifty cents, which included combing, water, some hay and a sprinkle of oats.
I asked Mr. Johnson, the livery owner,” Is therah a hotel in town?” He just laughed and said, “Thar ain’t no hotel, but Widow Hawkins takes in boarders for one dollar a night plus breakfast.”
I thanked him, and following his directions, walked down the street with my poke sacks thrown over my shoulder for about two blocks, turned right for one block and found the white two-story boarding house of the Widow Hawkins.
Apparently this was a very popular rest stop. There were about five men sitting around the parlor smoking cigars, reading or talking when I entered. I asked for the widow and was directed to the room across the hall. Once I entered the room, I was taken aback by the beautiful woman that sat behind a desk in the middle of the room. She looked up and smiled. I stuttered, “Do ya have any vacancies?”
She laughed and informed me, “Well, I haven’t ever heard it put quite like that, but, yes, I have
a vacancy. However, ya will have to share it with a drummer from Richmond.”
I remembered that a drummer was like a traveling salesman. I grinned and quipped, “That depends on what he’s selling.”
She laughed again and informed me, “His wares are men’s shirts and trousers.”
“That’s fine with me. How much for tha night?” I parleyed.
“One dollar and breakfast is included,” she negotiated. I nodded my acquiescence, paid the fare, and was given a key to a room on the second floor.
The Widow Hawkins informed me, “Mr. Holstein will be tha other room occupant tonight.”
I thanked her and went across the hall to the gentlemen in the parlor and asked the assembly, “Is Mr. Holstein herah?” An older man replied, “Mr. Holstein has gone to tha local saloon to celebrate a rather large sale he made in Harpers Ferry at a local hardware and clothing store.”
I thanked the man for the information and left the parlor. I went out on the front porch and sat in a well-used rocking chair to watch the beautiful sunset. I allowed myself to utterly relax my body and mind. Slipping into a sort of daze, I traced the events of the last week and of how far I had progressed mentally and emotionally in those few days. It was amazing to me that I had been able to take on a 19th century persona and was still alive to boot.
I drifted off into a trance of sorts and dozed for a while. Chilly night air carried by a light breeze woke me after the sun had gone down. I decided it was time to go inside. Due to Beau’s horrible ride, my sacroiliac felt damaged. I suffered pain in my back as I got up and tottered stiffly into the boarding house.
Men were still reading and smoking cigars in the parlor. I looked across the hall and saw the Widow Hawkins still working at her desk. I doubted she would want my company because I bet a lot of the men that stayed at her establishment tried to hit on her. I mean tried to get in her good graces. I had to stop thinking in my universe’s jargon and utilize as much of the 19th century common thought and speech that I knew.
The Widow Hawkins glanced up and saw me looking at her. She smiled and queried, “Is therah something ya wanted to ask?”
I smiled back and in a rather low conspiratorial voice answered, “Therah are a few things I need to know, but in private.”
She raised her eyebrows, but I quickly raised my hands and stated “By private, I meant out on tha porch. It has to do with tha local history.”
She looked at me for a long moment and agreeably said, ”I’ll join ya on tha veranda in about ten minutes.” I thanked her and once again occupied my previous seated position on the porch.
True to her word she came out on the porch in about ten minutes. I stood up and gave her my chair and leaned against the railing. I stared at her for a few seconds not knowing how to broach the subject about which I wanted to gather information. She looked at me expectantly.
I finally began, “I’m not from around herah. I’ve been isolated out west without a really good news source. Do ya mind if I get yar ideas about how tha War has progressed herah in tha east?”
She let out a breath that I didn’t know she was holding and relaxed. Apparently, she had thought I was going to try some funny business with her. I also noticed that she had taken her hand out of the cloth bag that she had placed in her lap. I fixed my gaze on the bulge in the bag. It was my turn to raise eyebrows when I looked into her eyes. She just said, “A lady can’t be too careful these days.”
I bet there was some kind of small pistol concealed in the otherwise harmless purse. I remarked, “I guess yar right. Please forgive me for frightening ya. I really just wanted tha war news from yar prospective.” I would never underestimate this lady again.
I began our conversation by stating that I hadn’t really understood what had initially started the War. Our state, Arkansas, had entered the Confederacy after Lincoln had called for an allotment of troops to put down a rebellion. I was hoping this was true of the present universe’s history, which would correspond to my old universe’s Civil War’s History. She nodded and I breathed a sigh of relief.
Then she began a description of the historical events. In summation they were as follows:
First, there was the firing on Ft. Sumter in early April, 1861.
Second, the Confederacy was formed in Montgomery, Alabama, with South Carolina, Florida, Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana and Texas seceding from the Union.
Third, when Lincoln demanded troops to put down the Confederacy, Arkansas, Tennessee, North Carolina, Virginia and Delaware also seceded.
Fourth, Delaware was quickly brought under the thumb of the Federals, when Union General McDowell’s army attacked a small Delaware militia force at Newark, Delaware and defeated them in June of 1861. Delaware was quickly occupied by Federal forces and put under the auspices of the Union military.
Fifth, the Confederacy moved its capital to Atlanta in May of 1861 due to the rail connections and centralized location.
Sixth, in the local region, the Yanks began building up McDowell’s army around Washington City, while the Rebs formed an army near Richmond under General Joe Johnston and another small army under Thomas Jackson in the Shenandoah Valley.
Seventh, the Yanks occupied Northern Virginia from the Potomac River near Washington City southwest to Centerville, Virginia. Confederate General Johnston moved his army up to the south bank of the Occoquah River near Manassas Junction.
Eighth, in early August, 1861, the Federal Army moved south to attack General Johnston’s Army. Johnston retreated provoking the Yankee army to follow him closely and thus out pace their supply and ammunition trains. He retreated to Warrenton, Virginia, called upon General Jackson to reinforce him, and with their combined forces bestowed a complete defeat on the Yanks, sending them streaming back to their home base at Fairfield, Virginia.
Ninth, Winfield Scott, General-in-Chief of all Federal forces, replaced McDowell with General Hancock, who was made the commander of the forces around Washington City.
Tenth, General Burnside had been put in charge of Union forces in North Carolina that were getting ready to attack the Confederate capital of Atlanta.
It took about an hour for the Widow Hawkins to relate her knowledge of the sequence of the War since 1861 plus her opinions of the various political figures, generals, newspaper owners, journalists, novelists and the abolitionists.
Finally, she asked, “Might we suspend further history lessons for tha night. It has been a long day and I’m rather tired. Also I need to get outta tha night air.”
“By all means, Mrs. Hawkins,” I responded. “I really appreciate all yar insights. It has helped me immensely.”
As I escorted her into the house she added, “I don’t cotton much to tha novel “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” or tha abolitionists. I believe thar tha cause of tha War.”
I nodded my assent. However, before we parted there was one bit of information I wanted to gather. So, I asked, “Was Harpers Ferry tha scene of any action prior to tha war?”
“No, tha Confederate army under Jackson occupied it in 1861 and it has been in tha hands of tha Confederates ever since,” she informed me.
I further probed, “Back in Arkansas, where I’m from, we heard that at one time John Brown had targeted Harpers Ferry for a raid. Did that ever occur?”
The Widow quickly responded, “He may have wanted to raid Harpers Ferry, but he never got tha chance. He was killed in southeastern Kansas in 1859 by a band of Missouri militia. I can’t remember tha name of tha militia unit leader, but tha eradication of John Brown was a great accomplishment for tha South.”
I was jolted by her information and it must have shown on my face because with concern in her voice asked, “Are you ill, Mr. Hager?”
I smiled and returned, “No, it has been a long day for me also. I believe I’ll turn in.” After a few more pleasantries we parted company and again I profusely thanked her for the historical update, shook her proffered hand and went to my room.
As I trudged up the
stairs to my room, I thought, “John Brown’s demise in Kansas is another completely different historical event in this universe.” When I entered the room, I found that my roommate had not arrived so I undressed and helped myself to the bed, which thank goodness didn’t have any bedbugs. I tossed and turned for a while, but finally I slept pretty soundly, which was remarkable due to the strange surroundings and my worrisome thoughts.
The Dark Mage’s Log: ‘Earth 3’ Date: 18620916
Jargunn determined to be better prepared for gathering information during the coming night. He again landed on the Maryland side of the river and traversed the Potomac. This time he brought a directional microphone recorder which would pick up any table conversation during the evening meal through the window from a distance and not alert any Earth animals of his presence.
Hopefully, some information on the imposter’s whereabouts would be imparted. Any data recovered could then be transported to Axeylon 5 for Lord Dendaras’s listening pleasure.
Jargunn crept within seventy-five yards of the only lighted building and activated his microphone.
One of the men began speaking. “Where’s ya school teacher, Hattie?” said a raspy male voice.
“Papa, he ain’t MY school teacher. Since ya must know, he’s taking a sightseeing trip to Harpers Ferry,” was a female’s reply.
“Well, I still think he’s addled in tha head,” retorted the voice of an old man.
Jargunn nodded and said under his breath, “Okay earthling. You have slipped my clutches again, but I shall catch you at this Harpers Ferry.”
Jargunn moved a safe distance from the house, contacted the Eternal Oracle for the GPS coordinates for Harpers Ferry, and willed his ACV to land near the west bank of the Potomac. He boarded and piloted his vehicle south in stealth mode to Harpers Ferry.
He navigated over the town called Harpers Ferry and found a favorable spot to land on a flatland near one of the two rivers that bracketed the town. Disembarking he willed the ACV into orbit and set out to cover the short distance to the ‘Earth 3” hamlet.
Assassins of History- Transference Page 10
