Of Ashes and Dust

by Marc Graham

  “Why have you always been so nice to me?” I asked, unsure where the words came from.

  “Suh?” The question seemed to surprise him as much as it did me.

  I tried to puts words to the sudden stream of thoughts that flitted around in my head.

  “You’ve treated me good from the first day I showed up here,” I said. “You and Miriam and Izzy, you’ve made this place a second home to me, like I belonged. Even when I haven’t deserved it, you’ve treated me like somebody.” I threw up my hands, frustrated that I couldn’t express myself any better. “I’m curious as to why.”

  Timothy was silent for a few moments, his eyes fixed on the table where the harness lay.

  “It’s that,” he finally said, indicating the totem that hung around my neck. “Ezekiel’s my boy.”

  It took me some time for the meaning of his words to register.

  “Zeke?” I said at last.

  Timothy nodded.

  “I got word back through that old peddler man, told me what you done for my boy,” he said.

  “Does anyone else know?” I blurted out the question and was immediately shamed by my cowardice.

  “I ain’t told no one else. Isaiah’s a good boy,” Timothy said of his son—his younger son, I reminded myself. “Good, but simple. I’d fear he’d let the cat out of the bag. And Miriam— poor thing almost fell to pieces when Marse Warren sold Ezekiel up to the Barneses. She’d just got over him going missing when word came from the peddler. Maybe it ain’t right of me, but she done lost that boy twice. I couldn’t stand to see her suffer if something was to happen and she was to lose him a third time.”

  Timothy looked me square in the eye, and I was unable to break away from his gaze.

  “Now, I know I ain’t got no call to ask nothing of you, Marse Jade,” he said. “All the same, I’m begging you not to let slip word of what you done for Ezekiel. Not to Isaiah, not to Miriam, not no one.”

  “I promise,” I replied immediately, and the older man’s eyes brightened.

  He nodded at me, then looked back at the harness.

  “Well now, that ought to do, don’t you think?” He ran his hands once more over the rings of the harness, then handed it to me.

  I checked the rings and pulled out a couple more of the loose studs from the brow band.

  “I think we can get rid of the bit,” I suggested. “Ought to be some way of taking a horse to heel without shoving a bar halfway down his throat, don’t you think?”

  Timothy’s eyes sparkled as he read my thoughts.

  “I’ll see what I can do about that,” he said. “And I’ll have Miriam fetch that hot water for you in, what, about a half hour?”

  “Better make it an hour,” I said. “This could take a while.”

  “I’ll meet you at the stable,” he promised, then disappeared out the door.

  I climbed up to my room in the loft and changed into a pair of worn breeches and an old, oversized shirt, then stuffed the generous tails into the seat of the pants. I grabbed a pair of thick leather gloves and scuttled down the ladder, then over to the root cellar to collect a few pieces of fruit before I made my way to the stables.

  The last evening of spring was about as pleasant as could be. A small storm had blown up in the late afternoon, lasting little more than an hour and leaving the air clean and fresh in its passing. As soon as the weather cleared, the servants set up pavilions on the sprawling front lawn and laid down a plank floor for dancing.

  The challenge I’d set for myself had gone well. What I’d estimated to take an hour had lasted—not counting the time waiting out the rain—only fifty minutes. The longest, most bone-jarring fifty minutes I’d ever known. When the deed was done, I hobbled back to the shed, where I dumped several handfuls of Epsom salts into the steaming tub before falling into the scalding hot water.

  “It’s me, Marse Jade,” came a familiar voice from outside the door.

  “Come on in, Izzy,” I called, unsure how long I’d been soaking.

  The boy stepped into the shed, a big grin on his face as he tried to hide something behind his back.

  “What are you about?” I asked, and he fell into a giggling fit.

  “Just this,” he managed to say, and produced a hanger with a new suit of clothes—the same suit I’d coveted at the tailor’s shop. The three-button banker’s coat was of cadet grey wool, with a collar trimmed in blue velvet. The suit had matching trousers and a notch-collared vest, and included a new cotton shirt and cravat.

  “What’s this?”

  “Just a late birthday present, I reckon.” Izzy was almost doubled over with glee at the surprise.

  “From who?”

  The boy just shrugged, then climbed up the ladder and left the suit in the loft.

  “You got about ten minutes before guests start showing up,” he said as he climbed back down and headed for the door.

  “Thanks,” I said, too puzzled to say anything more.

  I finished my bath and started dressing for the party, fumbling with the cuffs and collar of the starched shirt. Once dressed, I stole a glance in the mirror and felt a jolt of guilty pleasure as I noted the fit of the suit, cut to accentuate my broad shoulders and trim waist.

  Not for the first time, I wished Angelina could see me. Not that anything could come of it—our difference in class made such a dream impossible. If I could just turn her head, though, what a feat that would be. With a sigh and a shake of my head, I turned away from my reflection before dismay could replace the look of confidence.

  “Lord-lord, ain’t you a sight,” Izzy said as I stepped through the door of the shed.

  “Let’s just hope we did a good enough job this afternoon to keep it that way.”

  “Oh, I reckon you’ll be a sight one way or the other, Marse Jade.” A mischievous glint in his eye, the boy reached out a hand to straighten my cravat.

  “I suppose that’s so,” I said. “Why don’t you run to the cellar and grab a few more pieces of fruit to ease things along?”

  “Already done it,” he said. “Got some nice apples and good, juicy peaches.”

  “I hope you saved some for the horse,” I teased him, indicating his chin.

  His eyes grew wide and his tongue jutted out as he licked at the dried juice still under his lower lip. I laughed away his guilt and turned toward the stable yard. Guests had already started arriving, and the fence around the pen was lined by several of the carriage drivers, their eyes fixed in admiration on the fiery black beast that tore around the enclosure.

  I saw Izzy had already laid out halter and blanket and saddle, along with the pieces of fruit—bites taken out of two of them. I handed the boy my jacket, then stood with one boot on the bottom rail of the fence. It took several seconds before Pegasus noticed me and bolted straight toward the rail. His nostrils flared as he bore down on me. Several of the men flung themselves to the ground and covered their heads, but the charger turned away at the last second and trotted toward the opposite side of the corral.

  The drivers picked themselves up and brushed the dust from their clothes, laughing and slapping me on the back. An ache in my chest reminded me that I was still holding my breath, which I let out as I loosened my white-knuckle grip on the fence rail.

  “Wish me luck,” I said to Izzy, then climbed into the corral.

  The afternoon rain had settled the dust in the stable yard, rather than turning it into a morass.

  “Well, that’s one good thing,” I said to myself. “At least my funeral suit won’t be all muddy.”

  I breathed deeply to work up my courage, then picked up the bridle and reins, along with an apple, and stepped toward the middle of the pen.

  Pegasus shied away from me and paced uneasily back and forth. He flicked his ears and tossed his head in defiance, his long mane flowing majestically. I stopped in the center of the stable yard, and his pacing also stopped. He turned to face me square on, lowered his head and snorted. His ears flattened against his head
as one hoof scraped at the ground.

  Like a lightning bolt, the charger leapt at me. In an instant he was at full gallop and quickly ate up the distance between us. I fought the urge to run and, instead, forced myself to stare straight into the maddened eyes. Mimicking a calm I didn’t feel, I took a bite of apple, crossed my arms and turned my back on the beast.

  The ground shook as Pegasus thundered past me, and the wind of his passing almost blew me off my feet. He began to pace around me, and I turned to keep my body side-on to him, all the while munching on the apple. Finally, rejection overcame the beast’s fear and hostility, and his heavy, damp breath melted my starched collar.

  “So you want to be friends again, huh?” I said.

  I slowly turned to face the brute and raised my hand to brush his muzzle. He shied a little at my touch, but drew closer as I scratched his head and nose.

  “Good boy,” I said, and offered him the rest of the apple.

  I kept speaking softly to him as I slipped the halter over his nose and fixed the head strap in place behind his ears. I clucked my tongue at him, then turned and led the horse toward the fence.

  Pegasus rebelled a little as I burdened him with the blanket and saddle, but with a little cajolery and bribery, I soon had him fitted for riding and climbed on his back.

  “Let’s try you out some,” I said, and squeezed his middle with my feet.

  First at a walk, then a trot and a canter, we took a few turns around the corral in each direction, followed by some figure-eights. Once we found our stride, it seemed I directed the horse more with my will than the reins. After several minutes of the workup, I brought him back to the fence where some twenty pairs of eyes gaped at us.

  “I think he’s ready,” I said. “Hand me up my jacket, Izzy.”

  The boy climbed up the fence and handed over the coat.

  “I’ll run get the gate for you,” he said.

  “Don’t bother.” I stood in the stirrups and slipped into the jacket. Pegasus nickered and nodded his head in agreement. “Just meet me at the house to bring him back when we’re through.”

  Without waiting for a response, I tugged at the reins and turned the horse toward the middle of the corral. Without a pause, I steered him toward the far end of the fence, eased him into a canter, then a full gallop. Less than a heartbeat away from the fence, it struck me that it might have been wise to get Pegasus accustomed to jumping by himself before trying it with me on his back. The thought wasn’t even fully formed before my stomach lurched and we were airborne, sailing in an arc of graceful power over the four-rail fence.

  The landing was so smooth I could hardly tell when the jump was complete. Exhilarated, I rose in the stirrups and leaned over the horse’s neck. His mane and tail streamed like battle pennons as I drove him toward the front of the house and our unsuspecting audience. With no fanfare other than the thundering of hooves, we raced along the hedgerow that bordered the formal lawn while I searched for the best point to make our entry.

  Amid a confused buzz of voices and a few startled gasps, I steered us a couple of dozen paces away from the hedges. Satisfied I had the crowd’s attention, I yanked back on the reins. Pegasus reared up on his hind legs and let loose a triumphant whinny. We bolted toward the lawn and, as before, the myth-born horse took wing as we soared over the five-foot hedge. We passed through the parted crowd and took two turns about the carriage round before I eased the stallion into a trot, then walked him to the central clump of onlookers where Uncle Cy and a red-faced Matt stood.

  I hopped down from the saddle and held the reins out to Matt.

  “I think you dropped these earlier,” I said.

  Red turned to crimson, then scarlet as I leaned toward Matt, sniffed and wrinkled my nose in disgust. Matt’s green eyes opened wide and shot daggers at me before he turned and stomped toward the house. I felt a pang of guilt and avoided Missus Warren’s gaze, which I knew would condemn my pride. Instead, I patted Pegasus’s neck and handed the reins to Izzy, then accepted the cheers and backslaps of Uncle Cy and the other men standing nearby.

  “That was wonderful,” Cassandra gushed as she came up to me.

  “Oh, um, thanks,” I said.

  The girl held up a lavishly decorated dance card and took a step nearer to me. “I was hoping maybe—”

  “Why, hello, JD.”

  The voice came from behind me, and it took a few seconds to recognize the sweet, soft timbre. Even then, I could hardly believe my ears.

  Or eyes.

  I forgot all about Cassandra, forgot the girls by the foundry and every other girl in the world. I turned to face the speaker and was instantly cast adrift in the twin emerald seas that sparkled in the late-evening sun. Auburn brows arched playfully over those magnificent eyes and a delicate, pert nose perched above full, smiling lips. The enchantress’s face was wreathed by a halo of auburn curls, the tresses pulled back and tied loosely at the top of her head, with twin ringlets hanging down on either side to frame high cheekbones.

  Her dress was of vibrant lavender satin that shone almost violet in the evening sun. Ribbons held pink roses in the hem of her crinolette, at her shoulders and in the bodice. The short sleeves and low neckline revealed the enticing fair skin of elegant arms and a delicately sculpted bosom.

  “Gina,” I blurted, before correcting myself. “Angelina, I mean.”

  Her lips parted in a warm smile to reveal even rows of pearly teeth, the merest hint of an overbite adding an indefinable charm.

  “I was afraid you’d forgotten me,” she said, and extended a gloved hand to me.

  I took her hand and, not knowing what else to do, bowed my head over her knuckles.

  “Is that the best you can do?” she scolded with a heartrending pout. “This is how you greet an old friend.”

  With that she tugged at my hand, drew me close and stood tiptoe to plant a kiss on my cheek. The warmth of her lips set my skin ablaze. My ears filled with the roar of a thousand fires, my eyes blinded by their light. By the time I regained my senses, Gina was steering me across the lawn, her arm drawn tightly in mine.

  “—a glass of punch for an old friend?” she was saying. “But, my goodness, it was perfectly awful of you to do that to poor Matty, this being his big night and all.”

  “Big night?” I said.

  “Don’t tell me you didn’t know.”

  The blank look in my eyes told her exactly that.

  “Of course, not,” she said. “JD, Matty’s been accepted into the state militia, the cavalry. And you just showed him up on his own horse in front of the colonel of his new regiment.”

  “I didn’t know,” I stammered.

  “I know,” she assured me. “But, intentional or not, maybe this will teach my dear little brother a lesson. One way or another, he’ll get over it. In the meantime, I’m not getting any less thirsty.”

  Gina steered me toward the refreshments, and my unease frittered away under the spell of her voice. My spine straightened with each step as I noted the approving nods of the older men and the jealous glances of the younger folk of both sexes. The setting sun tinged the scattered clouds with a vibrant purple, and I inhaled deeply the last breaths of spring while I looked forward to this most splendid of Midsummer’s Eves.

  The sun dipped below the horizon around seven-thirty, but it was well past nine before darkness took hold on this shortest night of the year. The full moon wasn’t due for several more hours, and the sky was a diamond-crusted crown, surmounted by the ruby of Mars’s red glow. Too soon, Gina was taken from me to meet the obligations of her rapidly filling dance card. Out from under her protection, I was set upon by a bevy of well-meaning matrons who insisted I enroll myself in the queues of several other young ladies.

  While Gina danced with army officers and the scions of Arkansas’s well-bred, I was found to be a fit suitor for the less-promising young ladies of the upper crust. I somehow managed to dance with Cassandra and one other reasonably pleasant—if plain—partner. Ot
herwise, I was made to suffer through five sets of buckteeth, one pair of lazy eyes, three half-blind myopics and a twin set of sadly misshapen noses—the nostrils gaping straight out of the piggy faces—whose owners’ laughter seemed more fitting to the sty than the drawing room.

  By the time the orchestra was granted a respite, I’d had more than my fair share of inane twittering, nasal voices and overly done perfume. I stole away from the crowd and pulled off my jacket. I sniffed the collar and recoiled at the stench of lavender and verbena and a half-dozen other odors. I hung the jacket over a porch rail to air out, then slipped around the back of the house, away from the mind-numbing chatter of the crowd and the flaring torchlight that threatened to wash out the beauty of the night sky.

  “You made it longer than I’d have thought,” said the voice of another stellar beauty.

  “One more dance would have done me in,” I admitted.

  Gina stepped from the shadows at the side of the house, my jacket in her hands. Starlight made her milky skin glow, while the twin stars of her eyes cast their own light upon the night sky.

  “This may be ruined, too,” she said with a sniff at my vest. “What a shame—the suit looked so good on you. Maybe Miriam can work her magic on these. Now, off you go,” she ordered, and began to undo the buttons of my vest.

  “I’ll do it,” I blurted, and hoped the darkness hid the flush of my cheeks and ears.

  I undid the remaining five buttons, stripped off the vest and laid it on the rear porch where Gina had set my jacket. Having gone this far, I gave a little laugh and pulled off the cravat and collar that had been choking me all night.

  “Better?” Gina asked, a lilt in her voice.

  “Much.” I enjoyed the moment, but was unsettled by her nearness. “Would you care to walk some?” I wasn’t that unsettled.

  “I’d love to.”

  She took my arm and let me set our course across the backyard of the house. We walked in silence for several minutes, content with the close company and the chaperonage of the stars. When the silence was broken, we spoke at once, paused to let the other speak, then both continued.