"Rolling the rails under, with green water to the fantail, three men hanging onto the wheel, while we haven't had a galley fire in five days—but it doesn't matter because we're all too pukey to keep anything down anyway.
"Yep, Finday, if we manage to live through it we might happen onto one of those handsome sunsets you mentioned—but more likely another norther is on the heels of the first—with just time to gulp some ship's biscuit and a chunk of bully beef as hard as a coral head.
"Can't imagine how these country folks can stay away from such good living."
Finday's laughter made others in the hotel glance up and smile a little at a stranger's pleasure.
+++
They had come to feel things out. Only with Finday had Jonas shared his memory of killing Lafe Twiney by accident. James Cummens had never mentioned a search for Jonas Elan so Hawk had never raised the question. Now it was time to sniff the breezes, to discover just how concerned the people of Sherman's Valley were in apprehending the youth that had struck down Twiney.
So far, Finday had done the talking while Jonas avoided eye contact and kept his hat pulled low. It was improbable that he could be recognized. The youth that had fled to the seas was forever gone. Jonas Hawk strode like the sailor he was, and features weathered by tropical sun and salt water belonged to one foreign to Cumberland County or the north valley.
At Carlisle, a disinterested sheriff allowed that he knew nothing of a long-outstanding arrest warrant from Sherman's Valley. He announced with obvious satisfaction that criminals within his bailiwick got taken. Later, amid chin-thrusting belligerence, the sheriff also wished that the north valley hoop polers would get their wish for a separate county so that he could be done with the lot of them. Inconvenient, riding all the way over Kittatinny Mountain, Hawk gathered.
For the best information, their coachman had suggested the travelers should frequent the Bigler House, where Water and Carlisle Streets crossed. Though there were other, taverns, Jacob Bigler's was the oldest and handiest. Sooner or later, everyone in Landisburg, or passing through, appeared there. Bigler also set an adequate table but his bar was the main attraction. That was where important talk took place.
Following their evening meal, Finday and Hawk strolled the short block to enter Bigler's low-ceilinged ordinary where they found seats at the bar, a level barely below the smoke cloud created by a multitude of clay and corncob pipe smokers.
A cessation of conversation brought Bigler's attention to the appearance of strangers in his place. He vigorously polished away an invisible blemish on his oaken board and applied his widest greeting. Talk resumed but Bigler knew it was with an eye and an ear cocked toward the newcomers.
Did they merely pause, en route to some distant location? Might they seek local land? That possibility invariably caused lip licking. Drummers? No, far too prosperous and their features were sun blackened. Such speculations made tavern keeping just about the best work a man could find, Jacob Bigler accepted.
They were Mr. Finday, late of England, and Mr. Hawk, apparently American, representing the Feather Company, a trading group with ships about the world. They came to look and consider. Nothing certain, all things possible, was their announced outlook.
Mr. Finday drank Bower whiskey and exclaimed over it. He also did the talking. The slighter Mr. Hawk looked, listened, and sipped sparingly at a single beer.
W.B. Bigler had seen a little and instinct, experience, something, told him with certainty who was master and who was man. Before Finday's first whiskey had been replaced, the tavern owner was directing his answers, not to the asker, but to the quiet, younger Hawk. The talk ran general. The watchmaker, Sam Maus, and one of the Adair boys came over to join in.
A voluble man, Finday would have run a good tavern, Bigler thought. Later, at Hawk's touch, Finday ordered drinks for all. When the tavern offered sizzling roast pork chunks stuck on spits of split hickory, Bigler again caught Hawk's signal and Finday directed samplings for all interested.
It was good business for the Bigler house and profit would continue in lessening amounts—like ripples from a dropped stone, Bigler thought—as those who heard came by to learn more. It was almost as pleasing to the tavern keeper to have his judgment of who was really in charge confirmed.
Finday said, "We were told of an old timer living around here. Man named Jack Elan. Said to have been an Indian fighter and one who would know anything to be known. Would he be close by?"
Adair chose to answer first. "Interesting that you should mention old Jack. Quiet man, lives alone with his wife, children gone off somewhere. Only a week back I was riding home from Old Ferry. Got off at the big spring maybe a mile east of George Barnett's ground. All of a sudden I felt eyes just a'boring holes in me. Looked 'round an' there was Jack, cradling that old Deathgiver rifle of his, along with Rob Shatto leaning on a long gun. Had that young Robbie Shatto with 'em, wearing only an injun clout with a strung bow and an arrow to hand. Never heard a sound. Just all of a sudden they was there. Fair made my hair stand on end."
William Bigler added a laugh. "That describes 'em all right. Old men, both Shatto and Elan. They were first in here. Along with the Robinsons, I guess. Tougher than nails and about as sociable as panthers. Don't make 'em like that anymore.
He spit aside before adding, "Doubt old Jack would give you much. He ain't the type to care about land prices or hog markets."
A mild scuffle and a complaining voice down the bar's dimness diverted their attention.
Bigler snorted annoyance, "Damned village drunk. Steals somebody's chicken or a duck and tries swapping it for drink all over town. Damned fool's been horsewhipped out the road time and again. Comes right back. I wish somebody'd shoot him and be done with it."
Sidling along the bar a grossly fat figure crept into the lantern light. A foul stench came with him, wrinkling Finday's nose.
The man came into full view, a pair of piggy eyes glittering from a balding head that was somehow distorted so that all of its angles were wrong.
Ugly damned specimen, Finday thought just as Jonas straightened in obvious tension and spilled his beer down the bar. Finday heard Jonas choke and choke again, so Finday thumped him on the back. Man was pretty ugly, but Finday couldn't see why Hawk took on so. Must have swallowed wrong was all.
Bigler was hornet mad. Damned drunkard getting in and upsetting paying customers, his man hustled the creature away and the tavern master mopped and replaced the spilled mug.
Apparently regaining control, Hawk's half-strangled voice asked, "Who was that?"
Still angry, Bigler shook his fist at the door slamming behind the intruder. "Damned drunkard is all, name of Lafe Twiney." Hawk's mug again slopped beer and Finday seemed somehow startled by the name. It was enough to make Bigler continue.
"Lafe came from a family of hog raisers that lived down along Mahanoy Ridge, east of here. They burned out some time back and drifted away. Lafe stayed on. Mostly he's layin' drunk in somebody's barn but during the cold he wanders in, like he just did." Bigler's eyes drifted as he speculated. "Seeing that running him off don't last, most of the village wishes someone'd shoot him."
Hawk said, "His head is misshapen."
"Yep, horse kicked him, maybe . . . oh, a dozen or more years back. Fact is, it was a cousin of mine that found him layin' under a tree with flies buzzin' over him.
"Thought old Lafe was dead. Cousin went on in and got a wagon and some people to move him. When they got back, there was Lafe sitting up, jaw broke, head knocked out of line, making noises and waving his arms for a drink."
Hawk was making laughing sounds and, seeing his audience's amusement, the tavern keeper tossed in details.
"My cousin said old Lafe held onto the jug, but when he drank, some of it squirted out a hole in his cheek and got into an eye—which likely hurt more than a little. Lafe never did say whose horse had kicked him and the rider never came forward. Probably embarrassed he hadn't let his animal finish the job.
"Young Doctor
Boyd hauled Lafe's jaw around so that his teeth lined up some, but he couldn't help with the rest of his head. Lafe went around with a rag tied under his chin with a big knot on top of his hair for most of the summer, best I can recollect.
"Lafe's people fed him honey and pushed gruel through the holes where he didn't have teeth. Mostly though, Lafe lived on beer."
Tears were running down Hawk's face, and before his laughter broke free, Bigler added, "Lafe Twiney, we don't think about him much. He's just always here. Looking back, that's sort of amazing." Bigler shook his head, enjoying Hawk's enthusiasm for the story.
"Just goes to show how much a human body can stand, don't it?"
Hawk was doubled over with glee. Once in a while he would say, "My God, Lafe Twiney." And just that would set him off again.
Finday too did a lot of grinning and thumping his friend on the back so he could breathe. Bigler went off to wait on trade but he could hear the pair of them continuing to laugh and talk, so he knew they were having a good time.
+++
In the morning, young Mr. Hawk came by the tavern. The fancy coach waited while he drew William Bigler aside.
"Mr. Bigler, I take you for an honest man, who, given a trust, will see it through to its end."
Bigler saw himself in the same light and said so.
Hawk went on, "Then, Mr. Bigler, I would like you to perform a service for me." He plunked a heavy purse on the counter.
"That unfortunate Lafe Twiney has touched me in ways I will not burden you with. Here is money that will last far longer than Twiney will.
"When he comes to your door, arrange that he knock at the kitchen. When you deem him without recourse, buy him drinks from this purse. Another year or two will certainly be all he has. Grant him some contentment.
"My wish is that you tell no one of this. If you are credited with unusual generosity, accept it as your due. When Twiney is gone, notify me through the Cummens address tucked in with the money. All that is left thereafter will be yours, Mr. Bigler."
Bigler saw them away. As the driver's whip cracked he heard Finday ask simply, "Lafe Twiney?"
And, like children might, both Hawk and Finday burst into laughter that continued until the coach rattled beyond hearing.
Heading east it appeared. Maybe Mr. Hawk still intended to stop off and jaw awhile with old Jack and Martha Elan.
The End
About Roy Chandler
Roy F. Chandler retired following a twenty year U.S. Army career. Mr. Chandler then taught secondary school for seven years before becoming a full time author of more than sixty books and countless magazine articles. Since 1969, he has written thirty-one published novels and as many nonfiction books on topics such as hunting, architecture, and antiques.
Now 87 years of age, Rocky Chandler remains active and still rides his Harley-Davidson across the continental United States.
He divides his time among Nokomis, FL, St Mary's City, MD, and Perry County, PA.
Rocky Chandler: Author, Educator, Soldier, Patriot in 2012
Books by Roy Chandler
Reading order of fiction books in the Perry County Series
Friend Seeker
The Warrior
Arrowmaker
The Black Rifle
Fort Robinson
Ironhawk
Song of Blue Moccasin
Tim Murphy, Rifleman
Hawk's Feather
Shatto
Chip Shatto
Shatto's Law (Ted's Story)
The Boss's Boy
Tiff's Game
Cronies
The Didactor
The Perry Countian
The Sweet Taste
Old Dog
Gray's Talent
Ramsey
Shooter Galloway
Shatto's Way
All Books By Publication Date
All About a Foot Soldier, 1965 (A colorful book for children)
History of Early Perry County Guns and Gunsmiths (With Donald L. Mitchell), 1969
A History of Perry County Railroads, 1970
Alaskan Hunter: a book about big game hunting, 1972
Kentucky Rifle Patchboxes and Barrel Marks, 1972
Tales of Perry County, 1973
Arrowmaker, 1974
Hunting in Perry County, 1974
Antiques of Perry County, 1976
The Black Rifle, 1976
Homes, Barns and Outbuildings of Perry County, 1978
Shatto, 1979
The Perry County Flavor, 1980
Arms Makers of Eastern Pennsylvania, 1981
The Didactor, 1981
Fort Robinson: A novel of Perry County Pennsylvania, the years 1750-63, 1981
Friend Seeker: A novel of Perry County PA, 1982
Gunsmiths of Eastern Pennsylvania, 1982
Perry County in Pen & Ink, 1983
Shatto's Way: A novel of Perry County, Pa, 1984
Chip Shatto: A novel of Perry County Pennsylvania, the years 1863-6, 1984
Pennsylvania Gunmakers (a collection), 1984
Firefighters of Perry County, 1985
The Warrior, A novel of the frontier, 1721-1764, 1985
Perry County Sketchbook (And Katherine R. Chandler), 1986
A 30-foot, $6,000 Cruising Catamaran, 1987
The Gun of Joseph Smith (With Katherine R. Chandler), 1987
The Perry Countian, 1987
Hawk's Feather - An Adventure Story, 1988
Ted's Story, 1988
Alcatraz: The Hardest Years 1934-1938 (With Erville F. Chandler), 1989
Cronies, 1989
Song of Blue Moccasin, 1989
Chugger's Hunt, 1990
The Sweet Taste, 1990
Tiff's Game: A work of fiction, 1991
Tuck Morgan, Plainsman (Vol. 2) (With Katherine R. Chandler), 1991
Death From Afar I (And Norman A. Chandler), 1992
Kentucky Rifle Patchboxes All New Volume 2, 1992
Behold the Long Rifle, 1993
Death From Afar II: Marine Corps Sniping (And Norman A. Chandler), 1993
Old Dog, 1993
Tim Murphy, Rifleman: A novel of Perry County, Pa. 1754-1840, 1993
Choose the Right Gun, 1994
Death From Afar Vol. III: The Black Book (And Norman A. Chandler), 1994
The Kentucky Pistol, 1994
Ramsey: A novel of Perry County Pennsylvania, 1994
Gray's Talent, 1995
Hunting Alaska, 1995
Last Black Book, 1995
Dark Shadow (The Red book series), 1996
Death From Afar IV (And Norman A. Chandler, 1996
Morgan's Park (Vol. 3) (With Katherine R. Chandler), 1997
White Feather: Carlos Hathcock USMC scout sniper (And Norman A. Chandler), 1997
Death From Afar V (And Norman A. Chandler), 1998
Ironhawk: A frontier novel of Perry County Pennsylvania 1759-1765, 1999
Sniper One, 2000
One Shot Brotherhood (And Norman A. Chandler), 2001
Shooter Galloway, 2004
The Hunter's Alaska, 2005
The Boss's Boy, 2007
Pardners, 2009
Hawk's Revenge, 2010
Antique Guns (included above)
History of Early Perry County Guns and Gunsmiths (With Donald L. Mitchell), 1969
Kentucky Rifle Patchboxes and Barrel Marks, 1972
Arms Makers of Eastern Pennsylvania, 1981
Gunsmiths of Eastern Pennsylvania, 1982
Pennsylvania Gunmakers (a collection), 1984
Kentucky Rifle Patchboxes All New Volume 2, 1992
Behold the Long Rifle, 1993
The Kentucky Pistol, 1994
Hunting
Alaskan Hunter: a book about big game hunting, 1972
Choose the Right Gun, 1994
Hunting Alaska, 1995
The Hunter's Alaska, 2005
Sniper Series
Death From Afar I (And Norman A. Chandler),
1992
Death From Afar II: Marine Corps Sniping (And Norman A. Chandler), 1993
Death From Afar Vol. III: The Black Book (And Norman A. Chandler), 1994
Death From Afar IV (And Norman A. Chandler), 1996
White Feather: Carlos Hathcock USMC Scout Sniper (And Norman A. Chandler), 1997
Death From Afar V (And Norman A. Chandler), 1998
Sniper One, 2000
One Shot Brotherhood (And Norman A. Chandler)
Gun of Joseph Smith Trilogy (Young Adult)
Gun of Joseph Smith, The (With Katherine R. Chandler), 1987
Tuck Morgan, Plainsman (Vol. 2) (With Katherine R. Chandler), 1991
Morgan's Park (Vol. 3) (With Katherine R. Chandler), 1997
Children's Books
All About a Foot Soldier, 1965
Hawk's Feather (Perry County Frontier Series) Page 14
