Time Change Book One: The Jump

by Alex Myers

  “I had about plum given up on you and your homemade plow.” She almost snarled at him.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Mattie. I’m sorry it took such long time.”

  The awkwardness between Jack and Kaz was thick, so Jack stepped forward and introduced himself. “The name is Jack Riggs, pleased to meet you.” He reached for the man’s hand to shake it. When he got no verbal response, Jack said, “And your name is Kaz?”

  “Yes, Kaz is my name. Kazmer Sevenski. I am from Poland thirteen years and I am gunsmith, but I love more to make the bicycles.”

  Romania, Jack thought, looking at Mattie who just shrugged her shoulders. No one said a word for a long time. Kaz stared at his shoes, Mattie stared at Jack, and Jack looked back and forth between them.

  “Well then,” Jack said, breaking the ice. “Let’s go take a look at that plow you made.”

  They walked outside and around to the sunny side of the barn. “This is really impressive,” Jack said, upon examining the plow. “You say you made this?”

  “Yes, I make this. I make this at my shop. I do a little of everything. Fix guns now most. Bicycle business is not too good in Norfolk. It was good in Boston, but it not so good in Norfolk. I repair wagons, make bars for jail, about anything with the metal. I like working with the metal.”

  Kaz’s plow had started with idea of a basic metal blade, but now there were three evenly spaced blades and the support was made of metal instead of wood. The biggest difference was that, with the other plow, a person had to follow behind, holding on to handlebars to guide it, and with Kaz’s version, there was a heavier frame with what looked like a bicycle seat and foot pegs.

  “How long did it take you to make this?” Jack asked, seeing the excellent workmanship.

  “About three months. I would have it done sooner, but I know nothing about plow. I also had to have these new blades shipped from St. Louis. These blades are a new kind of steel process from England—Bessemer steel.”

  Steel! Jack thought. They mix chromium with steel to make stainless steel and the Bessemer process oxidizes out the impurities. I’ll have to remember that, it might come in handy someday. “I bet Mattie will be glad you made a version like this instead of like the kind she had before. Where did you copy it from?”

  “I did not copy. I make on my own.”

  “You mean you designed this too?”

  “That is what took the rest of time to make.”

  “Thank you, Kaz,” Mattie said halfheartedly. “Kaz is always inventing me some little thing or another. Some work, some don’t.” She gave him a dismissive wave of her hand.

  “You’re the second inventor that I’ve run into recently. Do you know Murphy McCord?” Jack asked.

  Kaz’s face turned bright. “I work with Mr. McCord much. He brings many pieces of the metal to my shop. He is a natural inventor-thinker. Me, I have to work very hard at it.”

  Jack looked at Kaz through a whole new set of eyes. The man was a true craftsman. The design was really quite ingenious. He could also see the way the man adored Mattie and he decided then and there that Kaz was more valuable as a friend than as a rival for Mattie’s affection. Now, if he only could convince Mattie of that.

  “Plow works better with two horses. It is heavy. It still works with one, though. If I had to do all over again, I would make lighter. It is little too heavy. It still works good. Better, yes. It will get fields ready for planting in the, ah viosna—ah, how do you say? Spring? Yes, spring,” Kaz said.

  “Can I try it out? That is, if you show me how to use it,” Jack asked. He wanted some time to think, plus to give Kaz a chance to talk to Mattie.

  “Let me help you hook up two horses,” Kaz offered.

  She looked disappointed that Kaz was not going to be plowing the field, leaving her and Jack alone in the house. Mattie said; “Kaz, when you’re done helping Jack, come on in the house. I’ll need you to kill a chicken. I got to get supper in the pot.”

  Once Mattie had left, Jack asked Kaz what else he had made for her.

  “Mostly furniture. Some I make with wood. Most I make with metal. I put the hot and cold water in her house. I use Mr. McCord’s design for that. Robbie cannot remember to shut the door. I make her a spring on hinge that will shut door by itself. Before she had just piece of leather for hinge,” ” Kaz said, unhooking Mattie’s horse and attaching it to the plow.

  Jack just followed observantly. “Everything but the plumbing you designed yourself?”

  “I have always been good with my hands,” he said harnessing the horse to the plow. “I wanted to make bicycle, but my family in Poland very poor. When Polish gunsmith from Boston offered my father to have me be his apprentice, I come to America. I have thirteen years and had to work everyday very hard. Mr. Kobylczak was best gunsmith in all of Boston and he has his own metal shop. I soon worked only in metal shop. Never make whole gun for him, only pieces. Four years ago I come to Virginia to open shop of my own.”

  A plan was forming in Jack’s head. “What kind of tools do you have in your shop?”

  “I have the blacksmithing tools with a large forge and the bellows special I design myself—makes things very hot. I have the hammers, vices, drills, augers, files, plus tools for the woodworking and a boring and rifling bench.”

  “Wow, that’s a lot of stuff. Did you bring it down from Boston with you?”

  “No, I buy shop with most everything in it. Old gunsmith was killed. I use life savings to buy business from his family.”

  “Can you read schematics?”

  “I do not know this word.”

  “Plans—blueprints?”

  “Yes. Plans I can read. I make them very bad, though.”

  “Can anyone in Norfolk draw up plans?”

  “Yes. Man named Bob Cooper. He is from Georgia. One time I have him make plans for new kind of bicycle I design. I sent my old boss the plans. I never hear back from him though.” Kaz looked troubled as he secured the two horses. “Why? Do you have something you want to make?”

  “I think you ought to have the plans for this plow drawn up. Is there a lawyer in town?”

  “Yes, several. Why do you want plans of plow?”

  “I think you ought to submit a patent of your design. I think you can sell quite a few of these. We’ll also have this Cooper do a rendering of it. We’ll make some flyers . . .”

  “Flyers?”

  “Pamphlets, we’ll make some pamphlets of your plow and I know a woman who can probably get them in the right people’s hands.” He was thinking of Frances and the Sangers.

  “I don’t know,” Kaz said, rubbing his hands together.

  “We can talk more about it after dinner.” Jack started thinking of all the other things that people in his time took for granted that would revolutionize this era. Kaz was right about Murphy; he was a natural born inventor. Together the three of them could shake up current technology. Maybe this is part of the big plan—it’d sure beat digging ditches and I bet I could make some serious money. “Show me how this thing works.”

  After showing him how to operate the plow and control the horses, Kaz was getting ready to head to the house when Jack said, “There’s something I want to tell you about Mattie and me….”

  He saw Kaz stiffen; his brow drew together in an agonized expression.

  “Just so you know, my interest in Mattie is purely as a friend.”

  Kaz smiled. There was an immediate softening to his features. “OK, maybe we try this patent thing.”

  “As long as we’re going to be inventing and drawing up plans,” Jack said, “I might have some ideas for a few other things.”

  “We can talk more,” Kaz said. He turned and made for the house, leaving Jack to plow into the future—the old one and the new old one. If I'm going to be stuck here, I might as well make the best of it, and some twenty-first century know-how wouldn't hurt.

  He didn’t look forward to facing Mattie.

  CHAPTER 19

  March 1856


  She’s Trouble

  Dinner with Mattie, Kaz, and Robbie was strained and awkward. Mattie was used to getting her way with men and, clearly, Jack was pissing her off. She didn’t say a word, not to Jack, nor Kaz or even her son Robbie. Kaz attended her every movement and Robbie sat, not eating, and sulked. Dinner ended with Mattie standing and announcing it was over. She didn’t thank anyone or even say goodbye, she just ushered Jack and Kaz to the door with an arm movement.

  The sun was just starting to set when they walked out of the house. Jack realized that he was four or five miles away from town. He hadn’t thought on the way out just how far off the beaten path Mattie’s place was. Who was he kidding? It was 1856 and he had never been further away from the old zip code.

  Kaz had a horse but decided to walk it back to town with Jack. As they were about a half a mile away, they saw the slave Hercules lighting a huge lantern on the end of the big dock.

  “What’s the story with that dock?”

  “There are many things about Miss Mattie that I don’t know. It keeps her in happy mood when I don’t ask.”

  Any earlier ticklishness had disappeared. They talked about things they could work on together and how much they both liked Murphy. They were back in town in a quick hour. Jack dropped Kaz off at his workshop two blocks away from the boardinghouse. Miss Nancy was sitting in one of the rocking chairs on the front porch of the house. Jack joined her.

  “There’s some stew on the stove,” she said, rocking and looking out into the night.

  “Thank you, but I’ve already eaten. It smells great though.”

  “Been out seeing the sights?” Miss Nancy asked.

  “That I have, and then some. Afraid I might have picked up a blister from these new shoes.” Jack crossed his leg and showed off his new purchase.

  “Looks like you put some miles on them or did you buy them used?”

  “No,” Jack chuckled. “I did some walking today. I had dinner with Mattie Turner.”

  “No,” she said, short and sharp. Her face became hard.

  “No what? And why did you get so serious?”

  “You shouldn’t have anything to do with that woman.”

  Jack smiled. “You almost sound as if you’re jealous.”

  “Couldn’t be further from the truth.”

  “Then why would you tell me to keep away from her?”

  “Because she killed her husband,” Miss Nancy said matter-of-factly.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because she’s a stinking bitch.”

  Jack turned in his chair to face her and smiled. “OK. Why would you call her a stinking bitch?”

  “Because she killed her husband.”

  “Aren’t we going around in circles? I thought her husband simply died.”

  “He did, because she killed him.”

  “Wait a minute. I heard he died in an accident.”

  “His only accident was marrying her.” Miss Nancy slowed down, patted her hair a little. “Oh, she claimed it was an accident, but everybody knew the truth.”

  “And the truth is—?”

  “She stabbed him with a pitchfork. Said he fell on it.”

  “It is a farm. I suppose someone could fall on a pitchfork.”

  “Twice?” Miss Nancy said with withering scorn. “And the sheriff said he crawled about ten feet before he supposedly fell on it again. Suffered quite a bit, too, I heard. Bled to death.” Her white hands were knotted in her lap. She stared straight ahead and rocked with an imperceptible movement of her feet.

  Jack chuckled nervously. “Pretty wild accusations. Doesn’t sound realistic. She had a son with the man.”

  “Wasn’t his. It was her lover’s, that lawyer. Abner Adkins.”

  Jack’s mind was being blown. “Her lover’s?” He didn’t know that people of this era used those kinds of words. Then it clicked. “Did you say Adkins? As in Frances Sanger’s ex-husband?”

  “He wasn’t her ex-husband at the time. They were practically newlyweds. You have to be blind not to see it, the boy looks just like him . . . looks sort of like you.”

  “Me? The kid?”

  “No. Abner Adkins. Good-looking man, just couldn’t keep his good sense in his pants.”

  “You’ve got to slow down. This is a lot to comprehend.” Jack sat forward with his hands on his knees. He looked out to the backs of the buildings that ran along Main Street. Lights started to glow in a few of the upper floor windows. “So, Mattie marries this guy Turner—“

  “Walter.”

  “Walter Turner—“

  “Had to, she was heavy with child, about five years ago.”

  “This timeline’s getting all messed up. Robbie Turner is about five or six. She said her husband died a year ago—”

  “Year and a half, and the boy is four. But she wasn’t pregnant with him. That was another child. Had him two weeks after the wedding.”

  “And where’s that kid?”

  “Dead. Her and the husband said it was the pox. But she never took him to the doctor, and they buried him right away. No one else ever got sick. Anyway, that was about the time Walt lost his inheritance. Walt came from a well-to-do family up in Richmond; Walt’s daddy was a drinker and a gambler, died at a poker table, lost everything. Once Mattie found out Walt wasn’t getting any of the family money and all she was going to be was a farmer’s wife, she shortly thereafter got herself a boyfriend, Abner Adkins.”

  “While he was married to Frances?”

  “Before, during, but not after.”

  “Does Frances know all this?”

  “I’ll say she does. Mattie marched up to her and spilled it all….”

  CHAPTER 20

  March 1856

  He’s a Changed Man

  “Hello, Jack Riggs!”

  Jack looked at the finely-dressed distinguished-looking older man and tried to place where he’d met him. He looked like a banker or lawyer. Jack stepped forward and shook the man’s hand. “Nice to see you again, sir.”

  “You don’t recognize me, do you?”

  “Sure, I do. How have you been?”

  “What’s my name then?”

  Jack gave up. “OK then, I don’t know your name.”

  “It’s me, Murphy McCord.”

  It was almost too big a leap for Jack to believe. It was more than the shave and haircut, it was more than the finely tailored suit; the man before him stood a little straighter, his eyes more clear. “Murphy! You’re a different person. What’s going on?”

  “I came to find you, came to offer you a job.”

  He even sounded different—more educated, less crazy. “A job? I already have a job.”

  “You’re digging ditches, Jack. That sounds like your own private version of hell.”

  “What were you going to hire me to do?”

  “Fix the things I can’t fix and let me make the things that you think up.”

  “When did you become such an entrepreneur? You seemed pretty content.”

  “For all intents and purposes, I was dead—just moving ‘round a bit.”

  “What brought all this on?” Jack asked, still amazed by Murphy’s transformation.

  “I’ve been thinking about things since you came by the last time. I was thinking that I had given up on living. I was just waiting around to die.”

  Jack grabbed the man by the arm and guided him out of the middle of the street just as a stagecoach being pulled by four horses went pounding by. Murphy seemed to ignore it all and continued. “Me living out in gone-yonder country. I was pretty sure my life ended when I lost Belle and baby Anna. But they wouldn’t have wanted me to give up; they would have wanted me to make a difference. That’s why I went to the State House and later to Washington in the first place. I just came back here to die.”

  “I met a guy you know—“

  “Kazmer Sevenski?”

  “Yes!”

  “I’ve been working with him the last two years; he does
all my metal work. Incredible mind on that boy. Not to get off track here, but I bought him out yesterday.”

  “His gun shop?”

  “It’s more than that—he’s got all the smithy tools, too. It’s not so much that I bought his stuff as I bought his stuff and made him a partner. I want to offer a partnership to you, too.”

  “But I don’t have any money or anything to offer.”

  “I’m a lawyer, Jack. I served eight years in the Texas House and two years as a United States Senator. Oh, and besides that, I’m rich. You have plenty to offer. It’s called intellectual property.”

  “How much of a commitment do you need from me?”

  “As much or as little as you want.”

  “And what are we going to make?”

  “Whatever we want. I hired twenty men to put my house and the warehouse in order—repairs, fresh coat of paint. These men are going to move all Kazmer’s equipment over. If they do a good job, maybe we’ll hire a few. I’m not really sure how this is all going to work out, but I just know that I’m not ready to die yet. Yep, dadgum it, I got me some more living to do before I start dying.”

  “Do you want to help me stop the Civil War?” Jack asked.

  “Perhaps. That sounds interesting. Alright.”

  “Do you know what I mean by the Civil War?”

  “I reckon it has to do with the ever increasing hostilities ‘tween the South and the North.”

  “Yep. Do you want to know how we’ll try to stop it?”

  “I reckon we’ll get to that eventually,“ Murphy said.

  “Start today or tomorrow?”

  “They are going to start moving equipment tomorrow. I’ll be there to make sure nothing breaks or comes untwisted.”

  “If you’re not doing anything for dinner, let’s get planning. When you say ‘rich,’ please don’t be offended, but how much money do you have?”

  “The good side of $11,000 after buying and moving the gunshop.” Murphy smiled.

  We are going to need a lot more money than that, Jack thought

  CHAPTER 21