by Mark J Rose
“They joke,” Will said. “How did this become about me? We were trying to figure out why Grace envied Graine Martin.”
“I don’t envy Graine Martin,” Grace said with humor in her voice. “I often pity her when she comes to church wearing all those scarves and hats. Have you not seen?” Grace pantomimed a fanning woman and then said in falsetto, “I’m glowing.”
“She is always fanning herself,” said Jeb. “What’s glowing?”
“Code ladies use for sweating,” Matt said. “Though I’m no expert by any stretch.”
“Ha!” David said. “Live a longer life and you’ll learn that no one is. Ladies are magical creatures understood by no man.”
“But how would you survive without the fairer sex?” Faith said.
“I could not, of course,” said David. “You would allow, though, that there are men who would be better without.”
“As there are ladies,” Mary said.
The Taylor family was quite lively and it surprised Matt to discover that very few topics were off limits for their dinner conversation. “Back to my original question,” Matt reminded everyone with a smile. “Boots or shoes?”
“A pair of each,” Grace said, “especially if you plan to ride to Philadelphia.”
“I thought you didn’t know how to ride,” Jeb said.
“That’s another issue,” Matt said. “Would one of you to teach me to ride a horse?”
The table went silent. This surprised Matt and he felt indignant that they judged his desire to learn. “I didn’t think it was an unreasonable request,” he declared. He waited impatiently for an answer, but the table remained quiet. Everyone had turned to look at Thomas.
“I should be the one to teach him,” Grace said.
“You know you’re not allowed to ride,” her father said sternly. “You cannot teach him without riding yourself. Will should instruct Mr. Miller.”
“Will doesn’t know how to ride,” Grace said. “Not properly.”
“I prefer the carriage,” Will explained.
“I spoke in haste,” Grace said. “You ride as well as any man.” The table went uncomfortably silent again. Matt made a conscious decision to keep his mouth shut. “Father,” Grace said. Her voice was no louder than normal, but it was like a bomb going off considering the silence that preceded it. “I want your permission to ride.”
“You cannot,” he said.
“I should be able to ride the horses I care for every day.”
“You cannot,” Thomas repeated. “It must be Will that teaches Mr. Miller.”
Will didn’t hide the fact that he had no interest in lessons. “I could,” he said, “but my sister would be the better.”
“I forbid it,” the older man said. He was less forceful this time. “I’ll not let another daughter be taken.”
“’Twas the Lord’s will,” Grace said. “No one was to blame.”
“A lady doesn’t belong on horseback,” Thomas replied. “We’ll speak no more of this.”
Mary woke from her silence. “I respect my husband’s decision,” she said. “I confess, though, I’ve never regretted the part I had in allowing Kathryn to ride. ’Twas truly God’s will.”
Grace said, “Mother, I—”
“The decision has been made,” Mary cautioned. Dinner ended quickly after that.
Matt took the opportunity to sneak back to the barn in time to receive a text. He sat there with the dog, watching the phone, wondering what new insight it would bring from the twenty-first century. A small voice inside him hoped they would inform him that rescue was impossible so he wouldn’t have to agonize over what to do. Tonight’s dinner with the Taylors reminded him that 1762 had its own challenges, but he still suspected he might use his advanced knowledge of science to accomplish great things. More than a small part of him was now looking forward to making some contribution to colonial America. His knowledge of smallpox alone could probably help thousands.
Though he was expecting it, the beeping of the text still startled him. He felt strangely like he did as a teenager when his girlfriend’s father would walk into the room. He knew it had something to do with his current line of thinking, which ended with him informing his rescuers that their efforts had been in vain and he wasn’t interested in coming home.
“Can you get back to the same place you arrived?” it read.
Matt typed, “Yes.”
“We can open a portal for five minutes. You must step in. It will close and push you back.”
Matt typed, “Is it safe?”
“We expect similar side effects.”
Matt typed, “I might stay. Would rather not risk going into a wormhole.”
“You can’t stay. You’ll change the future. Will text again in 24hr with details.”
Matt typed, “How do you know the future doesn’t require me to be here?”
There was no reply. Matt stared down at his phone as he talked to the dog. “They can’t make me go back.” He shut his phone off and stuck it in his pack.
21
Apothecary
Despite having to wake early for the ride into Richmond, Matt was in good spirits. He had finally been able to stand up after sleeping without his head exploding. After last night’s texts, he had thought long and hard about the consequences of staying in the past. The whole concept of leaving the future behind and beginning again in colonial America filled him with both fear and exhilaration. He wasn’t quite sure that he was willing to step out into the abyss just yet, but he would spend the day in town figuring out whether he could make it work.
David was quiet during the first part of the trip, so Matt took the opportunity to think of a cover story. He wanted to have answers to questions about where he came from, why he was dressed strangely, and why he knew nothing about eighteenth-century clothes. After practicing a few elaborate stories in his head, he decided it would be best to say as little as possible, mostly because keeping track of the lies was becoming difficult. Matt hoped Henry Duncan would be satisfied with his request for clothes and the fact that he had been recommended by the Taylors.
David interrupted his thoughts. “Who do you think should give the riding lessons?”
“It’s up to Thomas,” Matt replied. He really did believe this.
“I don’t endeavor to meddle.”
“No one ever does—” Matt said. It came out more harshly than he wanted. “Sorry, that’s not the way I wanted to say that.”
“You’re forgiven,” David said, “but I understand the intent.”
“My mother and father live in different cities,” Matt explained. “I wish one of them had half his conviction.”
“It must have been difficult growing up without a family.”
“You get used to it.”
“I agree that a family wants for a leader,” David explained. “Thomas and I grew up with a very strict father. There should be a place in between.”
“I don’t want to get involved,” Matt said. “I’ve got enough to—”
“You started this.”
“Not on purpose!”
“Will you have a family?”
“Of course.”
“How would you deal with your daughter’s request to ride?”
Matt answered reluctantly. “If it were me,” he said, “I’d let her ride. You can’t expect to protect her from everything.”
There was a long pause before David spoke again. Matt’s answer seemed to satisfy him. “I’d go to first to Henry Duncan’s,” he said. “Have him hold the packages so you don’t have to carry them in the rain. We can retrieve your suits on the way home.”
“How much will it cost me for two changes of clothes?” Matt asked. He thought twice about his question and then added after a pause, “In Richmond.”
David looked at him out of the corner of his eye suspiciously. “Not much different than in Philadelphia, I imagine.”
Matt replied with a blank stare.
Eventually, David rolled his eyes in resign
ation. “Two changes shouldn’t cost you more than four pounds, including a good coat. Buy two pairs of breeches, two pairs of stockings, and maybe three shirts.”
Matt nodded.
“I’ll point you in the direction of the apothecary when I drop you at Henry’s shop,” David said. “Benjamin Scott… between us…he’s an odd fish.”
“I’m not expecting much,” Matt said. “Anything he could tell me would help.”
David laughed. “We’ll see how you feel later.”
“I’ll stop at the silversmith after and see if he’s sold my ring,” Matt said. “Then I want to check out a general supply store.”
“If you can wait until midday,” David said, “you can come with me to Adam’s.”
“Great,” Matt replied. They passed a few buildings upon entering town and then stopped in front of Duncan’s Clothier. Matt made plans with David to be picked up in front of Samuel Smith’s at midday, and then hopped down from the wagon.
**********
A bell echoed through Duncan’s shop when Matt opened the door. It was bright, organized, and clean, and Matt was immediately impressed. A well-dressed man in a grey wig stepped from the back room and exclaimed, “Henry Duncan!” as he walked out to shake Matt’s hand. “How can I help?”
Henry stepped back and looked Matt up and down. He stared long and hard at his zip-off hiking pants and even more closely at his high-tech athletic shirt. “I can’t even imagine where you got those,” he proclaimed.
“That’s easy,” Matt replied, smiling. “I spent the last couple of years in the Orient. It’s all from China.” It tickled Matt to no end that all his clothes had “Made in China” labels.
Henry reached out and felt Matt’s shirt between his fingers. “That’s the oddest-looking silk I’ve ever seen.”
“You can buy some strange things in China,” Matt explained. “Thomas Taylor sent me. I’d like your help picking out two suits of clothes.”
“I simply love the Taylors,” Henry replied. “What kind of clothing?”
“Something to ride a horse,” Matt explained, “and also something a little nicer, like what you would wear to church.”
“You probably want to impress the ladies, then,” Henry said.
“One lady, anyway,” Matt replied without thinking much about it.
“Not that beautiful Grace Taylor?”
Matt opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.
“Your secret’s safe with me,” Henry said. “You know she’s refused the hands of numerous Richmond gentlemen.” Matt was still trying to figure out how he’d become so easy to read. Henry was now inspecting his face. “You might be handsome enough,” he said. “Just barely.” He put a hand on his chin as he continued his thought. “I’ll do what I can to make you a Virginia gentleman.”
“I’m on a budget,” Matt said. “I told you that, right?”
“As are all young gentlemen,” Henry replied. “An aspect of my trade I much appreciate.”
This surprised Matt, who said, “I’d think you’d want rich old men in here.”
“It’s not all about silver, my boy!” Henry exclaimed. “Young men hope to impress. I enjoy working within their means.” He paused for effect. “I take their money, but I make sure not to empty their pockets.”
*********
Matt walked out of Henry Duncan’s soon after. Despite spending more than he had planned, he was pleased. He had a reasonable stack of clothes and had received instructions on how it all should be worn. This included a thick coat that Henry had agreed to sell at a considerable discount, but only after Matt guaranteed he’d still be pleased with it after realizing it was two years out of fashion. Henry had also recommended a shoe shop nearby that, in his words, was “absolutely fabulous,” which made Matt smile.
After considering how much he had spent on clothes, Matt decided not to make a trip to McKissach’s for boots. Shoes made more sense for now. He’d think about boots when he was sure of his financial status. There seemed to be a shoe store on every corner in Richmond, but he eventually found Fullerton’s Shoes, the shop that Henry had recommended. Matt walked out the door in less than thirty minutes with a pair of buckled black shoes in a burlap sack.
He proceeded to the silversmith, passing a number of shoppers carrying packages or baskets. He touched his hat to them when he could and said “Good day” like he had seen Will do. The sign on the door of the silversmith’s said “OPEN,” so Matt walked in without knocking. He was anxious for an update on the prospects of selling the ring. His decision to stay in 1762 might be easier to make if he knew he wouldn’t have to struggle from the very beginning. He at least needed enough money to buy a horse. Jacob Berkley was talking with a customer, but acknowledged Matt as he walked in and said, “Feel free to look around.”
Matt meandered around the shop to look at the various pewter and silver pieces on shelves lit by skylights. Some of the better-lit items reflected the sun and clouds, and he could see his own reflection in the ones that were most brilliant. He rubbed his chin, noticing that he needed a shave.
“Mr. Miller, we can speak now,” Berkley called.
Matt turned to shake Berkley’s hand. “Good day,” he said. “I was in town and thought I’d stop for an update on the ring.”
“Certainly,” Berkley replied. “It’s too early to have particulars, but the prospects look good. I’ve sent it to Maryland for auction and also given notice to four associates in Philadelphia, two of whom would surely be interested. Our position would be greatly enhanced should they attend.”
“You sent it to Maryland?” Matt asked, concerned.
“Protected courier,” Berkley replied simply.
“How much do you think it’s worth?”
“There’s a reserve of eighty pounds,” Berkley replied. “The auctioneer won’t sell it for less. We can expect near three hundred pounds with the proper patrons.”
“Three hundred pounds?”
“I know,” Berkley exclaimed. “I should have given you sixty at the start.”
“Or I should have taken it to Pennsylvania and sold it myself,” Matt said, trying to sound incredulous.
“You could never have sold it for more than a hundred,” Berkley said. “And there’s always the chance that bandits would’ve taken it from you on your journey. You made the correct decision.”
“I jest,” Matt said. “I’m fine with our deal.”
“The auction is late next week,” Berkley said. “Should it sell, ’twill take another week for funds to make their way to Richmond.”
“The best of luck to both of us, then,” Matt said. Matt reached to shake Berkley’s hand and said goodbye. He walked out of the shop and headed toward the apothecary.
**********
Benjamin Scott was a disheveled man sitting behind a counter reading a scientific text next to a glass jar of leeches. Medicines surrounded him and were stacked on every shelf. “Good morning,” he said. “How may I help you?”
“I was hoping to buy a few supplies and ask some questions,” Matt said.
Scott shut his book to indicate that Matt had his full attention. “Always have time to talk to a customer,” he said. “Are you ill?”
“Not at all.”
“Then why are you here?” Scott said, disappointed.
“I want to start my own apothecary in Philadelphia,” Matt said. “I’ve been away in the Orient and am unaware of the current state of the business.”
“Where did you apprentice?” Scott asked.
“China.”
“What in God’s name do they know about apothecary in China?” Scott replied. It was more commentary than question.
Matt pretended he hadn’t heard him. He was already thinking about a plan to make either aspirin or ibuprofen if he decided to stay in the colonies. He looked up on the shelf. “Do you have willow bark?”
“For what?”
“I can change the willow bark so it doesn’t upset your sto
mach,” Matt replied.
The older man became more attentive. “You can improve upon willow bark?”
“Once I get the ingredients used by my Chinese master,” Matt said.
“Which are?”
“Willow bark is mixed with something called acetic anhydride,” Matt said. “The reaction will work with distilled vinegar, but not as well.”
“I don’t have this acetic anhydride,” Scott said, “but I do have the vinegar.” He reached up for a blown-glass bottle marked “Distillate of Vinegar” and placed it on the counter.
“That’s a start,” Matt said. “Do you have anything called caustic soda or lye?”
“You can get lye from the soap maker,” Scott answered, grimacing as if he was uncomfortable standing. “Godforsaken rheumatism in my hips and legs,” he explained. “Standing causes some annoyance.” He took a seat and motioned for Matt to sit.
“Do you take anything?” Matt asked.
“Willow bark, coincidentally,” Scott replied. “I’ve not had any as of late due to my dyspepsia.” He patted his stomach to emphasize the upset.
Matt pulled out a sachet of paper from his pocket that he had made containing four ibuprofen tablets. He was hoping Scott would be convinced to help him once he felt the effects of ibuprofen for himself. “The medicine I spoke of is here,” he said. He showed Scott the tablets. “It’s very rare and expensive. Swallow two and your rheumatism will go away for the rest of the day.”
Scott gazed at him suspiciously. “What makes you think I’d swallow anything a stranger brings in here?”
“I’m looking for advice,” Matt said. “It wouldn’t help me at all to make you sick.”
“I didn’t say you’d poison me intentionally,” Scott replied. “I’m not convinced you know your trade.”
“I only have four tablets,” Matt said. “I’ll swallow one in front of you to prove it’s not poison, but that’s one less to make you feel better. You swallow these with water without chewing.”
“Let me see,” Scott said, holding out his hand and taking the opened sachet. “These were manufactured on a press of sorts. These will cure my pain?”
“Lasting five hours or so,” Matt replied. “You’ll move easier for the rest of the day.”