by Mark J Rose
“This is ringworm,” Matt said aloud.
“I’ve looked,” Grace said. “There are neither insects nor worms.”
“Ringworm is a fungus.”
“Mr. Miller,” Grace said, shaking her head, “can you cure him or not?”
“I saw something along the road that might work for this,” he explained. “We can give it a try in the next few days.”
“We don’t have a few days,” she said. “Father could decide to put Joshua down any time.”
“I’ll try to come up with a cure.”
**********
Matt wasn’t hungry, so he went straight to the barn to wash. He filled two basins, brought them inside, made sure to close the barn door tightly, and then tried to bathe as best he could. He stood on a loose wooden board so as not to stand in the puddle forming on the dirt floor. He would have given anything for a hot shower.
He dressed and looked at his watch. He had plenty of time before he needed to be back for another text message, so he headed to the common. There were men sitting around the tables, as had been their routine. He grabbed a cup of cider and walked over to greet David and Will.
“How does it with you tonight, good fellow?” David said.
“It took forever to remove the hay dust,” Matt replied.
“I still sneeze hay,” Will said.
“Well done with the bales,” David said. “You stayed until the job was done.”
“Thanks,” Matt said. “I like the look of a nice level stack.”
“This is where we’ll have you tomorrow,” David said. “It seems the others know nothing of stacking hay.”
“You get vermin in there too, if there is too much open space,” Will added.
“Go to the stone field in the morning,” David said, “then return to stack after lunch.”
Matt nodded.
David continued. “We should have enough to fill the pavilion and then most of the barn.”
“It’s been a good season, then?” Matt said.
“Thus far,” David answered.
“If it wasn’t raining, would you work through the weekend?” Matt asked.
“No,” Will replied. “Father encourages the men to go home and attend church.”
“We want them out so the shacks can be cleaned and aired,” David added.
“Were the shacks built as part of the original farm?” Matt asked.
“After, as slave quarters,” David said.
“Must have been a lot of slaves,” Matt observed.
“Sixteen bought and paid,” David replied.
“Sixteen slaves!”
“A modest fortune,” Will said. “Nathan took some horses and all the slaves as his share. He still has five of the original lot.”
“We clean the shacks at week’s end,” David repeated. “You can help on Saturday if you wish. It would be the daily rate.”
“I’ll help if you need,” Matt said, “but I’d rather go to Richmond. I’ll check on my ring, talk to some merchants, and maybe buy some things.” Matt planned to buy back his ring from Jacob Berkley and find a few antiques to take back with him when he was rescued.
“Your choice,” David said. “I’m buying supplies in town on Saturday. You can ride in the wagon.”
“What’s this I heard about you not riding a horse?” Will asked.
“Maybe one of you will teach me to ride,” Matt said. He smiled, thinking that it might be fun to have a few lessons before he was rescued.
Will motioned to a table. “I must sit down, my back’s sore,” he said. He and Matt sat down. David excused himself to talk to the men and eventually came back with two glasses of ale, which he set down for Will and Matt before leaving again.
“A nightcap,” Matt said.
“A what?” Will asked.
“A nightcap. It’s what they call a drink before you go to bed.”
“A nightcap for me too, then,” Will said as he reached up to rub his shoulder. “I’m baked.”
“I brought something for you,” Matt said. He reached into his pocket, pulled out two ibuprofen tablets and handed them to Will, who washed them down with ale.
“I hope they work as yesterday,” Will said.
“The medicine prevents the swelling that causes the soreness in your muscles,” Matt explained. “You’ll heal more quickly.”
“My muscles are hurt?”
“A little bit,” Matt said. “Your muscles are sore because they are torn. Your body comes along and repairs the damage, and makes them bigger in the process. That’s why men who lift heavy weights often get big muscles.”
“How do you know all this?” Will asked.
“I learned it during my time at the university,” Matt said. “I have a degree in medicine.” Matt’s degree was actually in pharmaceutical chemistry, but he wasn’t sure whether the word pharmaceutical existed in 1762.
“I feel sorry for saying it, but it’s time for me to sleep,” Will declared. “I can feel the ibuprofen working already.”
Matt walked alone back to the hay barn. When he got there, he turned his phone on and called for the dog. Scout came trotting up after a moment, zipped past Matt into the building, and jumped up on the bed. The dog was almost asleep when he lifted his head up at the sound of Matt’s beeping phone. There was a new text.
“Working on your return,” it read. “Any contact with the others?”
Matt typed, “No. Who am I looking for?”
“31 YO Brit engineer, 16 YO girl, 39 YO mom.”
Matt typed, “No contact. Time for me to come home?”
“Working two months. No progress.”
“It’s only been a day.”
“Only in your time. Two months have passed here. Wormhole is closing. Will text you again in exactly 24 hours.”
Matt reached over to dim the lantern and then crawled into bed. He stretched his legs out, expecting the dog’s regular growl, but the animal was quiet.
“Well, dog,” Matt said, “you might be stuck with me for longer than I thought.”
Matt lay there thinking of the implications of this latest message. He’d been agonizing on the trail over what he should say to his girlfriend when he returned after three weeks of being gone, but now it had been longer. They had both been too drunk that last night to have a rational discussion about their future. He doubted she’d respond well to his desire to change their lives anyway. Matt had used his hiking trip as an excuse to go home and get a good night’s rest, but he knew that part of the reason was that he was not ready to deal with how she might react. Matt suspected he’d wasted eight months building a relationship with a beautiful socialite who had no intention of ever becoming a wife and mother.
Matt looked down at Scout and smiled like he was joking. “I could avoid all this hassle if I stayed in 1762.” As soon as it came out of his mouth, a shiver went up his spine. It didn’t sound that crazy.
15
Goldthread
The dog woke Matt before sunrise, scratching at the door. “I’m coming,” Matt said. He put his feet onto the dirt floor, walked to slide the door open, then pulled his pants on and made his way to the privy. His mind was occupied both there and back with plans for his trip to Richmond. He’d visit the silversmith, retrieve his ring, and check out the apothecary shop. He was anxious to see the kinds of medicines that were stocked in 1762.
Once back at the barn, he got his backpack and washbasins and took them to the well, set everything down and filled the basins with fresh water. He dipped his cup into the bucket and drank the entire contents. It was something his tae kwon do instructor had started him doing. The Korean man had made frequent suggestions regarding the importance of a proper diet, but this one had stuck. He could remember his sharp accent, like a staccato drill sergeant’s: “DRINK FULL GLASS WATER – IN MORNING—GOOD FOR STOMACH.”
His instructor, a seventh-degree black belt, possessed a multitude of wise Korean snippets and Matt found them coming back to him at the
strangest of times. He was sorry that he hadn’t had a chance to go back to visit the dojo in the two years he had been working in Philadelphia. Matt had completed his black belt as he was graduating from the university and then had to focus on work. There hadn’t been time to join another tae kwon do school and he had only been able to practice a few times since graduation.
“Good morning, Mr. Miller.”
Matt turned around to look at both Jonathan and Jeb. “What brings you here today, boys?” he asked, but he had a good idea of what it was.
“Jeb doesn’t believe that you use soap in your mouth.”
“Like I said, John,” Matt explained, “it’s toothpaste, not soap.”
“It’s Jonathan,” Jonathan said. “Can you show him how you do it?”
“Okay, one last time,” Matt said. “But if someone new shows up tomorrow, neither one of you will ever taste toothpaste again.”
Jeb didn’t look too excited.
“It does taste pretty good,” Matt said, reaching for the tube. “Give me your finger.” Jeb hesitated, but it was obvious he wasn’t willing to let his little brother see him afraid to try anything. Matt placed a dab on his finger.
“Looks like soap,” Jeb said.
“It’s toothpaste!” Jonathan exclaimed. “It tastes good.”
“He’s right,” Matt said. “It’s not like soap at all.”
Jeb raised his finger to his mouth slowly as Jonathan waited anxiously beside him. “I told you so,” Jonathan said. Jeb swirled the flavor around in his mouth. “You’re not supposed to swallow,” the younger boy said. “Spit the bubbles on the ground.”
Jeb spat the toothpaste out and said, “It tastes good.”
“Let me show him how to use the brush!” Jonathan exclaimed. Seeing the boy’s excitement, Matt knew there really was no way he could say no, so they spent the next few moments teaching Jeb how to brush. Matt stood by as both boys brushed their teeth.
Jeb said, “My mouth feels cold.”
“Breathe in,” Jonathan said. “It’s refreshing. And the ladies love a man with fresh breath.”
“I still don’t think it’s smart walking around saying that,” Matt said, laughing.
“He should use it before he speaks to Sara Greene,” Jonathan exclaimed. “He loves Sara Greene.” Matt could see the older boy’s face turning red.
“I don’t love her,” Jeb said.
“You do love Sara Greene. Use that brush before church.” Jonathan didn’t seem to be mocking his older brother. He sincerely wanted Jeb to get on well with Sara.
“Boys,” Matt said, “time to go to breakfast.”
“He loves Sara Greene. She’s very beautiful.”
“I get it,” Matt said. “See you guys later.” Matt pointed in the direction of the common. Jeb yanked at Jonathan’s shoulder, pulling him in the direction of breakfast.
The boy turned towards Matt. “He does love Sara Greene. That brush might help.” Jeb reached back and turned him around. Matt rinsed his toothbrush and inspected it. It had been new when he had started his trip, but already the bristles were starting to wear. He secured his pack in the barn and then hurried to the common.
Everyone was a bit grumpier this morning, with most complaining of being tired and sore. Matt ate by himself, having no desire to hold up his end of a conversation. The concept of leaving a good impression didn’t seem as attractive now that he wasn’t sure he’d be rescued anytime soon. The coffee tasted as good, and he couldn’t eat enough bacon, but his enthusiasm had waned.
“Good morning, old fellow,” Will said as he sat down beside him. “How’d you sleep?”
“The dog woke me up,” Matt replied. “He shot out of the barn before sunrise.”
“There were wolves west of us,” Will explained.
“Does he chase them?” Matt asked.
“Stays behind the fence and barks,” Will said, “which is probably wise against a pack of wolves.”
Matt changed the subject. “Another busy day?”
“More of the same,” Will said. “I grow weary of fighting hay.”
“I’d complain if I wasn’t getting all this fresh air,” Matt said. It was comforting for Matt to see Will smile at his allusion to their earlier altercation with the Paynes.
“It would vex Levi much to fill the farm with guest workers,” Will observed.
David interrupted their conversation. “Check your assignments,” he called, setting a slate out on the table. Matt read that he’d been assigned to a new team headed by a man named Angus Stewart. David stopped Matt as he was backing away from the list. “Make sure you ride back after the first cutting. We want you stacking.” Thinking for a moment, he added, “I’d eat with the ladies so you’re ready to go. The wagons should begin arriving before noon. There’s still one stack that’s ready to fall.”
“Which one is Angus Stewart?” Matt asked. David pointed to a stout man with enormous arms standing near a wagon. Matt went over to introduce himself.
The man shook his hand and replied in a thick Scottish accent, “Hallo, Mr. Miller, und I’m Angus Stewart. Arr ye ready to mow?”
“Let’s get a move on,” Matt said. “There’s a prize waiting for us.”
“Aye, that there is,” Angus replied. Matt had to listen closely to understand. Stewart spoke like he had a mouth full of marbles. Angus waved to the other men standing nearby and repeated what Matt had said. “Come on, lads, let’s get a move on, there’s a prize waitin fer us.” The five men climbed up on the wagon. Matt knew one of the men, Zachariah, from his previous work group.
“Another day in the fields,” Zachariah said.
“It’ll be a long day, too, if we want to get this done by Thursday,” Matt replied.
“It’ll be capital to return to town with a week’s pay and an extra day before the Sabbath,” Zachariah exclaimed. It was more enthusiasm than Matt had wanted.
“Aye, lad, that it will,” Angus said as he turned his head from driving the two horses. “Of course, yer like as not to have your money spent by Friday evening, the way you carry on.”
“Not true,” one man in the back said. “He’s an old man now. ’Twill last until Saturday evening.” They laughed.
“What about you, Mr. Miller?” Angus said. “Where you intend to be spending yer money?”
“Nothing exciting,” Matt said. “I need to pay for my trip back to Philadelphia.”
“Philadelphia?” someone in the back asked.
“Born and raised,” Matt replied.
“That explains the accent,” said Zachariah.
Angus turned around. “Could you not make your way north already?”
Matt hadn’t thought about answering this question, but it was suddenly obvious that he should have a cover that would explain his need to work while he waited for his rescue. A plausible explanation came to him almost immediately. “I’m saving,” Matt explained. “I hope to be able to buy a horse and ride back to Philadelphia on my own.”
“I have one to sell,” someone said from the back.
“Old Brownie?” Zachariah replied.
“Yes sir,” the man proclaimed. “He has one more trip left in him and he already told me he wanted to see Philadelphia before he passes.” There was laughing.
“He’d never sell,” someone said. “Everybody ponders where Caleb’s silver goes. Providing for that horse in his old age, it is.”
“He’s a perfectly fine animal,” Caleb declared.
“’Tis not for me to disagree!” Angus replied. He spoke to Matt again. “I’d say to buy one o’ them Taylor horses, but they want a pretty penny.”
“Man rides around Richmond on one of them animals,” Caleb said, “and every beautiful lady will turn her head.”
“Too bad a young man can’t afford one,” proclaimed Zachariah.
“Unless he’s a plum,” Caleb said.
“Wealthy fellows don’t need horses to impress the ladies,” Zachariah retorted. “They got their relatio
ns’ money.”
“’Tis true, lad,” Angus said. “Fine horses are wasted on the old and the wealthy, they are.”
“Hear! Hear!” the men cheered in the wagon. Matt smiled, thinking that young men in his own time could say the same thing about Porsches.
The conversation had ended by the time they pulled up to the field. Matt dropped over the side of the wagon, walked to the back, chose a scythe and a sharpening stone, and then tried to listen as Angus barked out unintelligible instructions. He followed the pack and situated himself towards the middle of the group. His third day in the field was much easier; sometimes he found himself ahead of both Caleb and Zachariah and would wait with Angus for them to catch up. Despite the mismatched productivity, the team developed a rhythm that regularly corrected itself, each man having enough time to pause, sharpen his blade, and take a moment to rest.
It took about two hours to cut the field and spread the hay to dry. By the time they finished, David had arrived and was waiting in a wagon. Angus spoke to David briefly and then stepped to where the men were cleaning their tools and stacking them in the cart. “Philadelphia is going back to stack,” Angus announced.
“Better him than me,” Caleb said. “Hard to breathe in there.”
“Too much dust,” Zachariah said. “I’d rather be out in the field.”
“You men enjoy the outdoors,” Matt said. “I’ll be sweating and coughing.” He tried his best to act like he was making a sacrifice, rather than doing something he actually enjoyed.
“Good work this morning, Mr. Miller,” Zachariah said as he was leaving. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you had a few harvests under your belt.” The comments made Matt proud. He liked the feeling of teamwork and was glad to contribute.