by Mark J Rose
“Can’t you keep him away?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” David replied. “They both do their share. Thunder is still last in when the dog is rounding them up—wanders away on purpose.” Scout was turning his head back and forth as David and Matt spoke, like he was part of the conversation. David looked at the dog and said, “You know Thunder.” The dog’s ears perked, and he stood and then trotted away.
“Sorry about that,” David said. “You’ve lost your fellow.”
“He’ll be back tonight to bother me,” Matt replied.
“He keeps you up barking?”
“He sleeps with me in the barn.”
“All very strange,” replied David. He had a hint of suspicion in his voice.
“Scout will be glad when I return to Philadelphia,” Matt said. “He’ll get his barn back.”
“When do you plan to travel?” David asked. “Not before we are done in the fields, I hope.”
“Soon. I’m still trying to figure out how I got under that bridge.”
“A man doesn’t find himself lying in the road with no picture of where he was before,” David quipped.
“The only memory I have is leaving work to explore the countryside,” Matt explained. “The next thing I remember is waking up in your barn.”
“How long have you been gone from your home?”
“No idea,” Matt said. “My story sounds suspicious, I know.”
David nodded affirmatively. Matt had suspected as much. “I appreciate that you’ve trusted me so far, all of you,” Matt said. “I’d be in pretty dire straits if you hadn’t helped.”
“I don’t want to give the notion that I mistrust you, it’s just . . .”
“Finish, David,” Matt said. “It’s important for me to know where I stand.”
“The things you say and do don’t fit,” David replied.
“Like what?” Matt asked. He wouldn’t have been surprised if David had a laundry list of things Matt had said and done that didn’t make sense. It comes with the territory when you get dropped into another century against your will.
“I don’t desire to interrogate you,” David replied. “You’ve got a disarming manner, but I can’t help thinking that we don’t have your full story.”
“I’m trying to get back home,” Matt said. “You can trust that much.”
David’s manner changed, almost like he made some conscious decision not to pursue the matter further. “There’s still a lot of hay,” he said. “Best get it under shelter.”
“I’ll get right to it,” Matt said, smiling. “I’m proud of my haystacks.”
“Get some victuals in your stomach before they’re put away,” David reminded him. “We don’t want to wind up peeling you off the ground again and having to reteach you farming.”
**********
Two full wagons of hay had already been unloaded for him to stack by the time Matt had finished his meal. He set his plate down, still chewing, and started at his task again. When the pile was gone, he finally walked to the corral to check out Joshua’s back. He didn’t expect much as he walked up to the animal, but was happily surprised.
20
Riding Lessons
By dinnertime, the farm had grown eerily quiet except for the sound of the pattering rain. The last wagon headed for town was leaving the front of the corral and the rain was falling steadily. Matt stood in the entrance to the hay barn looking at his handiwork. He had organized the bales into a stack that occupied less than one third of the building. There was plenty of space left for equipment, tools, supplies, and even more important, for him and the dog to sleep. Looking at the wide-open space, Matt had to consider that all the talk of filling the barn completely with hay was a complete exaggeration. They would’ve needed another couple of hayfields. He breathed in deeply, enjoying the smell of the freshly mown hay.
Matt turned around to look over at the corral to Joshua, who was standing under a lean-to that David built to keep him dry. The horse stooped down regularly to grab a mouthful of hay. He seemed to enjoy being pampered under his shelter, and the linen sheet on his back made him look like a thoroughbred racehorse after winning the Triple Crown. Matt could see activity in the nearby horse barn with various Taylors coming and going. Now that his work was done and Matt was left alone with his thoughts, he was having trouble coping with the solitude. In his own time, he’d be checking his e-mail, reading the news online, or updating his status. There was nothing for him to do now and it gave him a strangely uneasy feeling, especially after moving at the speed of light for six straight days.
The last text from Oak Ridge said six months had passed since he vanished from his own time. Matt’s mind drifted to wondering who had sincerely missed him after he’d disappeared. The only person he could be sure of was his father. His old man would often pick Matt up at work and they would eat lunch together in the city. He thought about their last meal, when they rode in his dad’s new Prius taxicab, talking as they waited in Philadelphia traffic.
“If I drive it right,” Matt’s father said, excited, “I can get almost fifty miles to the gallon.”
“It’s still a Prius,” Matt replied.
“Wouldn’t impress that girl of yours,” his father said.
“Drop it, Dad,” Matt replied. “I know you don’t like Kylie.”
“I like her fine,” the older man said. “It’s just…she reminds me too much of your mother. Beautiful and self-absorbed.”
“Like father, like son,” Matt quipped. Matt hadn’t felt like fighting fair.
“You’d think you’d learn from your old man’s mistakes,” his father said. “She want a family at all?”
“We never really talked about it,” Matt lied.
“After seven months?”
Kylie was beautiful and self-absorbed. She had expressed her disdain for children on more than one occasion. Matt had to admit that much of his attraction was based solely on the fact that she was beautiful and the life of the party. Matt liked the way that people, men and women both, turned to watch when they entered the room. As hard as he tried, though, he couldn’t imagine Kylie as a caring mother of his children. If she did have children one day, Matt suspected she would always have a nanny in tow. He wondered what Kylie might be doing now that he was gone. His conclusion was sad; she’d probably be going to parties and having fun, which is what she did best. Kylie missed me for maybe…a month?
He thought about his job at the pharmaceutical company and decided that his disappearance had briefly caused an inconvenience, but they’d have either quickly filled his position or had some underpaid schlep in India do it for one quarter of the price. They missed me for as long as it took to ship my job to Bangalore.
The fact that he couldn’t think of one person besides his father that gave a damn whether he was gone or not was troubling. If I get back, things are going to have to change! He stood there and watched the rain fall, then decided to walk to the horse barn to see if he could help. He was getting tired of trying to deal with the ambiguity of his future when he returned to his own time. When he arrived at the barn, Grace was leaving to go back to the house.
“Hi, Grace,” he said.
She hesitated briefly as she walked past. “Afternoon, Mr. Miller. A good rain.” Then she continued on her way, waddling with the weight of a pail of milk. He watched her, deciding that even Grace couldn’t make carrying a heavy bucket look the least bit attractive. He returned to searching for someone to help, but there was no one else left in the barn. He stopped to pet Thunder, who had stuck his head out from his stall. Petting Thunder took him back to the moment that he met Grace. He laughed to himself as he thought of the contrast between the horse and the woman. The horse was gentle and calming, whereas Grace would probably never be a woman a man took comfort in.
“How you doing, boy?” Matt asked. “Glad to be out of the rain?” Thunder pushed at his petting hand, gently moving his head in different angles. The thought occurred to Matt tha
t if he were stuck in 1762 he would need to learn to ride, and Thunder might be the perfect horse. Matt wasn’t sure how long he stood there petting Thunder, but somewhere during that time the question that had been nagging him came to mind. “Dad would understand if I wanted to stay,” he said to the horse.
Thunder reacted to his voice by picking his head up and making a pwafft sound.
“That’s the best advice I’ve heard so far,” Matt said. The horse answered him with big brown eyes.
**********
The dog was already waiting in the barn out of the rain when he returned. Matt reached into the bin, grabbed his pack, and fished around the bottom for his pad of paper and a pencil. He marveled that both were in reasonable shape for having been under the weight of everything else he carried. He inspected the pencil in his hand with a new appreciation. He had used pencils his whole life, but only now did he truly look at one. As he rolled it between his fingers, he marveled at its simplicity. It was a plain number two pencil, painted yellow, with an eraser. However, from the 1762 perspective, it was no less than a technological marvel. He saw no way that he could make a pencil without a great deal of time and skill. Almost every aspect of what made a pencil a pencil seemed hopelessly impossible to reproduce by hand.
Matt set the pad and pencil down and stood. He needed to do some brainstorming, so he walked to the corner of the barn, grabbed a giant corroded piece of tin and propped it on the bench. He picked up a large chunk of chalk that they used to mark the horses and wrote on the tin like a blackboard. He lectured his only student. “Well, dog,” he said. “How would I make a living if I stayed in 1762?”
Matt wrote “INVENTIONS” at the top of the piece of tin and then started his list.
1. Lightbulb
“I could invent the lightbulb,” Matt said. He thought about it for a moment and crossed it out. “Nowhere to plug it in.”
2. Cotton gin
“I don’t even know what a cotton gin does,” Matt admitted. “Something about seeds.” He crossed that out too.
3. Steam engine
He crossed it out without giving the dog any explanation at all.
4. Radio
5. Television
“There wouldn’t be anything on worth watching,” Matt said. Both got an X.
6. Battery
“I’m probably the only chemist in the world that can’t make a proper battery,” he admitted. “There has to be something I know how to do.” He stepped back for a moment to ponder his expertise. “I got it,” he exclaimed. It was loud enough to make the dog’s ears stand up.
7. Drugs
Matt turned the piece of metal over and started to draw. When he was done, he stepped back to admire his handiwork. The chemical structures for ibuprofen and aspirin were written on the metal blackboard.
Their session was interrupted by knocking on the barn door. “Are you in there?” Will called.
“Come in,” Matt answered.
“Mother sent me to let you know we’re having supper soon,” Will said as he shut the door against the rain. He looked at Matt’s chalk drawings and read the labels “Ibuprofen” and “Aspirin.”
“Apothecary symbols,” Matt said. Matt thought he might need to explain further, but Will’s focus had already returned to dinner.
“Come over in a half hour,” Will said. He was leaving when he spotted the pencil and paper. He picked them up and began writing. As with the chemical structures, Matt waited for Will’s questions about the modern pencil or paper, but these too seemed to make no impression. When he was done writing, Will said, “For the meal. Let it be our secret.”
Matt looked at the writing on the pad and gave him a thumbs up.
“See you soon,” Will said. He walked out of the barn, sliding the door shut as he left. Matt took the note that Will had written and spent the next fifteen minutes practicing. He then filled the basin with water, washed his face, and brushed his teeth. He put on a clean shirt, smoothed his hair, hurried to the house, and was soon sitting with the family, ready for dinner. Grace walked in late, wet from the rain.
“Why are you all wet?” her mother asked.
“I was looking at Joshua,” Grace replied. “The swelling and redness are much diminished and the open sores have scabbed.”
Mary and Faith put bowls of food on the table. Grace followed them into the kitchen and returned with a steaming loaf of fresh-baked bread on a cutting board. The smell of the bread filled the room. “We should pray,” Thomas said.
“I can,” Matt replied.
Thomas had trouble hiding his surprise. “Are you sure, Mr. Miller?”
“I’d be honored,” Matt replied. He paused and then bowed his head. Everyone followed, but he noticed out of the corner of his eye that Grace was watching him.
Lord, bless this food and grant that we
May be thankful for Thy mercies be.
Teach us to know by whom we’re fed;
Bless us with Christ, the living bread.
Amen.
“A wonderful prayer, Mr. Miller,” Thomas said. “Where did you learn this?”
“A friend taught me,” Matt said, trying not to glance at Will. He looked over at Grace, who was calmly eating. She gave no indication that he had made any impression on her whatsoever.
“How was your first week of farming?” Thomas asked Matt.
“Difficult,” Matt replied, “but I made it.”
“My body has finally stopped aching,” Will proclaimed.
“The quill has made you soft!” his father replied as he laughed heartily.
“All the thinking has made me hard up here, though,” Will replied, pointing to his head.
“If we should want for any hard thinking,” Grace said, “we’ll let you know.” The whole table laughed and Will nodded to his sister with a satisfied smile.
“What do you have planned for tomorrow, Mr. Miller?” David asked. “There’s work.”
“If it’s all the same,” Matt replied, “I want to go to Richmond.”
“What will you do in Richmond?” Jeb asked.
“I’ll check with the silversmith, talk to the apothecary, and then I have items I wish to buy.”
“Like what?” Jonathan asked.
“Jonathan,” Thomas said. “It’s not polite to ask a man his business.”
“That’s okay,” Matt said. “I wouldn’t mind suggestions.” Ever since his conversation with Thunder, the prospect that he might stay in 1762, invent things, and become a colonial gentleman had been gaining traction in his mind. He’d use the day in Richmond to explore the possibility. Matt began listing what he planned to do and buy. The most questions came about the clothes he would choose; almost no one seemed to care whether he learned anything from the apothecary.
“What color waistcoat and breeches?” asked Jonathan.
“No idea,” Matt said.
“You can’t go wrong with blue or grey,” Will said.
“Where’s the best place to go?” Matt asked.
“I’d go to Henry Duncan,” said David. “He has the best from London. The cheaper pieces are usually from last year, but—” He paused, and it was obvious that he was looking at Matt’s black tee shirt. “’Twill work for your purpose.”
“Tell Henry of our recommendation,” Mary said, “and he’ll extend a fair price.”
“It’s Henry Duncan, then,” Matt declared. “What about shoes?”
“Obi Hunter,” said Will.
“Obi’s shoes never last,” his father said. “They look good when you buy—”
“I wear his shoes this day,” Will interrupted. “They are the highest quality.”
“I’m not only looking for fashion,” Matt said. “I want to be able to ride a horse.”
Grace broke her silence. “If you’re serious about riding, you should buy boots at McKissach’s.”
“Oh!” Thomas said. “He charges so much!”
“They are the best,” Grace replied.
“I’ll check out this McKissach’s,” Matt said. “How much for boots?”
“Twice that of shoes,” David said.
“Which is?” Matt replied.
“A pair of McKissach’s boots will run you almost three pounds,” Will said. “They are probably worth it. The cost would not be lost on the ladies.”
“Richmond ladies like boots?” Matt asked.
“Most assuredly!” Will answered back. “Remember Graine?”
“The one we met in town who spends money.”
“She’d notice those boots,” Will replied.
“Graine Martin will spend her relations into oblivion one day,” Grace declared.
“But you must allow,” Will said, “she always looks beautiful.” The room went silent as Grace pondered her reply.
“I have often envied Graine Martin—”
A roar led by Will went up around the table.
“But wait,” Grace said, laughing. “I’ve not finished.”
“Dear sister, what could ever redeem your allowing you’ve envied Graine Martin?” Will asked, laughing.
“I have envied Graine Martin for her ability to persuade.”
“How so?” Will asked. It was obvious he felt he had the upper hand in this sibling rivalry.
“In persuading her father ’twas worth financial ruin to impress Richmond and its Horse Prince.”
“Touché, dear sister!” Will said. “You give as well as you get; not to mention that it’s obvious you’ve been speaking to my fellows.”
“Dear brother,” Grace said, laughing, “I have not talked to your fellows at all.”
“You didn’t decide to call me Horse Prince from out of the heavens,” Will said.
“One or two of the ladies your fellows are attempting to court may have mentioned it,” Grace replied.
“They call you Horse Prince?” Jeb asked, looking at his brother.
“Prince of Horses, actually,” Will replied.
“I hope you don’t encourage that,” Mary said.