Then she ran off ahead of him, toward the red city.
When Arthur Stuart got back to camp, La Tia immediately demanded to see the charms, and though she clucked and straightened a little here and there, she did it as much on the one he had not crushed as on the one he had, so he figured she was just fussing and he had done OK at putting it back together.
Alvin took him out of the city right after supper. “You had your nap,” he said, “and anyway, the greensong will sustain you.”
“You’re going to get me started,” said Arthur Stuart, “but I’m gonna have to stop along the way, if only to ask directions, and then how will I get started again?”
“You can stop without losing the greensong,” said Alvin. “Just hold on to it, keep hearing it. You’ll see. It’s easier, though, if you stay away from machinery.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“It’s one of the things that makes it hard for me,” said Alvin. “ ’Cause I love machinery, and I love the greensong, and a lot of the time I just can’t have them both at once. Tenskwa-Tawa sneers at the Irrakwa for choosing railroads over the music of the earth, but I tell you, Arthur Stuart, the railroads got a music of their own, and I love it. Steam engines, wheels and gears, pistons and fires and speed over the rails…sometimes I wish I could settle down and be an engineer.”
“Engineers only get to go where the tracks have been laid,” said Arthur Stuart.
“There you have it,” said Alvin. “I’m a journeyman, and that’s the truth.”
“That’s why you should be making this trip, not me,” said Arthur Stuart. “I’m gonna mess this up, and folks are gonna wish it had been you all along.”
“Nobody wished it had been me leading that exodus across the delta lands.”
“I did.”
“You’ll do fine,” said Alvin. “And now we ought to stop talking, and get your journey started.”
They began to run, and soon Arthur Stuart was caught up in the greensong, stronger than he’d ever heard it before. The red farmland wasn’t like white men’s farms. The maize and the beans grew right up together, all mixed in, and there were other plants and lots of animals living in it, so the song didn’t go silent where the ground had been plowed and planted. Maybe there was a way that machines could be made harmonious with the earth the way these farms were. Then Alvin wouldn’t have to choose between them.
After a while Arthur Stuart noticed that Alvin wasn’t with him, and he fretted for a moment. But he knew that worrying wouldn’t change a thing, except maybe to draw him out of the greensong, so he gave himself over to the music of life and ran on and on, steadily southwest, over hills and through copses and splashing through streams, as directly as the land allowed, all living things making way before him or helping him along his path.
It occurred to him that he might move even faster, and then he did. Faster yet, and now he fairly flew. But his feet always found just the right place to step, and when he leapt he cleared every hurdle, and every breath he took in was filled with pleasure, and every breath he let out was a whispery song of joy.
14
Plow
“Why won’t you look in the crystal ball, Alvin?” asked Dead Mary one morning.
“Nothing there that I want to see,” said Alvin.
“We look into it and see important things,” she said.
“But you can’t trust it, can you?” said Alvin.
“It gives us an idea of what’s coming.”
“No it doesn’t,” said Alvin. “It gives you an idea of what you already expect is coming. Distorted by what you fear is coming and what you hope is coming. But if you don’t already know what you’re looking for…”
“For someone who refuses to look,” said Dead Mary, “you know a lot about it.”
“I don’t like what I see there.”
“Neither do I,” said Dead Mary. “But I think that is not why you refuse to look.”
“Oh?”
“I think you do not look because it is your wife who sees the future, not you. And if you ever looked into the ball, then you would not need her any more.”
“I think you’re talking about things you don’t know anything about,” said Alvin, and he turned away to leave.
“I also don’t like what I don’t see,” said Dead Mary.
Alvin had to know. He could not leave yet. “What don’t you see?”
“A good husband for me, for one thing,” she said. “Or children. Or a happy life. Isn’t that what crystal balls are supposed to show?”
“It ain’t no carnival fortune telling ball.”
“No, it’s made of water from the swamps of Nueva Barcelona,” said Dead Mary. “And it shows me that you love your wife and will never leave her.”
He turned around to face her again. “Does it show you that it’s wrong of you to toy with Arthur Stuart and lead him to think you’re in love with him?”
“It is not wrong,” said Dead Mary, “if it’s true.”
“True that you’re toying with him? Or true that you’re in love with him?”
“True that I am drawn to him. That I like him. That I wanted to kiss him before he left.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s a good boy and he shouldn’t die without ever being kissed.”
“The crystal ball showed you he was going to die, is that it?”
“Isn’t he?”
“The ball tells back to you what you already believe,” said Alvin. “That’s why I don’t look in it.”
“Let me tell you what the ball shows me,” said Dead Mary. “A city on a hill over a river, and in the center of the city, a great palace of crystal, like the ball, water standing up and shining in the sunlight so you cannot bear to look on it.”
“Just one building made of crystal,” said Alvin. “And the rest of them are just ordinary city buildings?”
She nodded. “And the name of the city is The City of Makers, and The City Beautiful, and Crystal City.”
“That’s a lot of names for one dream.”
“This is where you are leading us, isn’t it?” said Dead Mary.
“So maybe the ball doesn’t show you only your own dream,” he said.
“Whose dream did I see, then?”
“Mine.”
“Let me tell you something, Monsieur Maker,” said Dead Mary. “These people don’t need some fancy building made of crystal. All they need is some good land where they can set a plow, and build a house, and raise a family, and they’ll do just fine.”
In Alvin’s poke the plow trembled.
When Verily Cooper met up with Abe Lincoln in Cheaper’s store at noon, there was someone else waiting for him. The precise little clerk from the courthouse.
“Out of your territory, aren’t you?” asked Verily.
“I’m on duty, as a matter of fact,” said the clerk.
“Then your list of duties is longer than I thought,” said Verily.
The clerk walked up to him and handed him a folded and sealed paper. “That’s for you.”
Verily glanced at it. “No it’s not,” he said.
“Are you or are you not the attorney for one Alvin Smith also known as Alvin Miller, Jr., of Vigor Church, state of Wobbish?”
“I am,” said Verily Cooper.
“Then in that capacity papers to be served on Mr. Smith can be served on you.”
“But,” said Verily, touching the man on the shoulder to suggest that he should not rush out of the store as he seemed to be in quite a hurry to do. “But, we are not in the state of Hio, where I am licensed to practice law, or the state of Wobbish, where I am licensed to practice law. In those states, I am indeed Mr. Smith’s attorney. But in the state of Noisy River, I am an ordinary citizen, engaged in private business with Mr. Abraham Lincoln, and nobody’s attorney at all. That’s the law, sir, and these papers have not been legally served.”
He handed them back to the clerk.
The clerk glared at him. “I
think that’s pure horse piss, sir.”
“Are you a lawyer?” asked Verily Cooper.
“Apparently you aren’t either, in this state,” said the clerk.
“If you’re not a lawyer, sir, then you should not be offering a legal opinion.”
“When did I do that?”
“When you said that what I said was pure horse piss. It would take a lawyer to offer an opinion on the degree of purity of any particular sample of horse piss. Or are we to assume you are practicing law without having been accepted at the bar in the state of Noisy River?”
“Did you come here just to make my life a living hell?” asked the clerk.
“It’s you or me,” said Verily. “But let me tell you something that it was my pleasure once to say to the Lord Protector and all his legal officers in England.”
“What’s that?”
“Good-bye.”
Verily clapped his hat on his head and strode out the door into the street.
The clerk stomped out immediately after him, and kept on stomping, which raised something of a dust cloud behind him, the day being quite dry and hot.
Then Abe Lincoln sauntered out, followed by his faithful companion, Coz. “What do you think, Coz? I think we got to agree that was sharp lawyering. But then again, any time a lawyer says he ain’t a lawyer, isn’t that some kind of improvement to the general condition of humanity?”
Coz grinned and then spat into the dirt, which made a little ball of mud that actually rolled a few inches before it settled down and disappeared. “But we like Mr. Cooper,” said Coz. “He’s a good lawyer.”
“He’s a good man,” said Abe. “And he’s a good lawyer. But is it possible for him to be both at the same time?”
“You keep this up,” said Verily, “and I won’t teach you any more about lawyering.”
“I think Abe is already a fine lawyer,” said Coz.
“What do you mean?” said Verily.
“Well, look at you,” said Coz. “You’re just walking around, right? And nobody’s paying you, right?”
“Right,” said Verily.
“That’s what Abe does most of the time.”
“You know I’m a hardworking man, Coz,” said Abe. “I split half the fence rails in Springfield, working odd jobs to pay off my store debt. And dug ditches and hauled manure and any other work that I could get.”
“Aw, come on, Abe,” said Coz. “Can’t you let another man have his joke?”
“Just wouldn’t want Mr. Cooper to think I was a lazy man.”
Since Verily had spent the last few days trying to keep up with the long-legged, fast-walking Mr. Lincoln, he really hadn’t got the impression of laziness from him.
Today, though, they were not walking. At Lincoln’s request, Verily had hired two horses for him and Coz to ride, though in truth Verily could not think why Coz’s company was worth the rent of a second horse. But Lincoln wanted it, and so Verily paid for it out of a dwindling wallet. They checked the saddles and harnesses, and then Verily checked Coz’s and Lincoln’s again, because from the look of it, they had no idea what to look for when checking a horse’s saddle and harness. “You two don’t ride much, do you,” said Verily.
“We’re poor men,” said Abe.
“I’m poorer,” said Coz.
“Because you spend every dime you make on riotous living.”
“A man in love is inclined to buy gifts for his lady.”
“And drinks.”
“She was thirsty.”
“And then she was unconscious,” said Abe. “And then you paid for a room in the tavern for her to sleep it off, hoping no doubt that her gratitude in the morning would be greater than her headache, only in the morning…”
“My love life ain’t none of Mr. Cooper’s business.”
“Your love life is imaginary, except for the amount of money you lose at it,” said Abe.
And so it went all the way from Springfield to the Mizzippy.
They left the cornfields behind them after a couple of hours and forded Noisy River itself, and then passed along an ever-narrowing track through prairie land dotted with trees, where nobody was farming except here and there. A reminder that this was the frontier after all. And also that farmers tended to prefer not to locate near the foggy Mizzippy.
They reached a tree-covered bluff overlooking the great river just before dark. There wasn’t much to see. A lot of trees below them, and beyond the trees, a glimpse of the river reflected scattered moonlight. And then the fog that obscured all vision of the land on the other side.
“Here’s where we spend the night,” said Lincoln.
“And eat supper, I hope,” said Coz.
“Supper?” said Verily.
Abe looked at him sharply. “I said we’d need provisions.”
“You didn’t say we’d need food,” said Verily.
“Well I’m blamed if provisions don’t mean food!” said Abe, sounding a little cross.
“If you meant food,” said Verily, “you should have said food.”
“If you think I’m going to hunt for rabbit this time of night on an empty stomach, you’re looney,” said Coz.
“Myself,” said Abe, “I’m thinking of maybe turning cannibal.”
Verily grinned. “Now I know why you brought Coz along.”
Coz put his hands on his hips and glared at them both by turns. “Now see here, there ain’t nobody going to eat nobody, least of all me. I may look stout, but I assure you it’s all fat, every bit of it, not a scrap of muscle on me, so if you tried to fry me up like bacon you’d end up gagging on account of there being no lean in it.”
Verily sighed. “It’s hard to play a joke on men who refuse to notice the jest.”
“We were joking back,” said Coz. “We knowed you had food all along.”
“Oh, no, I don’t have food,” said Verily. “The joke was the part about eating you.”
They both uttered disgusted noises and then Verily laughed. “All right, then, I suppose I might have something left over from my journey here in my saddlebags.”
He was getting the waybread and corned beef out of the saddlebag when Abe said, “You know, I’m a mite uncomfortable that the campfire that was going down by the river when we got here has since been put right out.”
“Maybe they got done eating,” said Coz.
“I didn’t see a campfire,” said Verily.
“Maybe they don’t want a fire ’cause it’s a hot night,” said Coz.
“Or maybe they took note of some travelers on horseback coming out of the wood at the crown of this bluff and decided that we looked like easy folk to rob.”
A powerful voice came from the brush off behind the horses. “Fine time to think of that, sir.” And out from the bushes stepped a big man, who looked like he’d been in a lot of fights but hadn’t lost any of them. And he had pistols and knives all over him, it seemed, with a cocked musket in his hands.
It was the first time Verily had seen Abe Lincoln look scared. “If you were hoping to rob somebody easy,” said Abe, “you’re half right. We’ll be easy, only we ain’t got nothing to steal.”
“Speak for yourself, Abe,” said Coz. “I bet Mr. Cooper’s got everything he owns on that horse.”
Abe gave Coz a shove. “Well, ain’t that a fine thing, drawing this man’s attention to our friend Mr. Cooper!”
“Well Mr. Cooper was planning to fry me up like bacon!” said Coz, shoving Abe back.
“That was a joke, Coz,” said Abe, shoving him harder.
“He says now,” said Coz, shoving Abe back, even harder.
But when Abe flung himself forward to shove again, it wasn’t Coz he shoved. He took a flying leap at the stranger and down they tumbled into the bushes.
“Don’t you worry, none, Mr. Cooper,” said Coz. “Abe’s a pretty bad fighter, but he puts his whole self into it and he don’t give up early.”
“Verily!” called the big man from the bushes. His voice sounded like
somebody was pounding on his chest.
“He knows your name?” said Coz.
“Verily, are you going to say something, or am I going to have to kill your big ugly friend!”
“He oughtn’t to call Abe ugly like that,” said Coz.
“Abe,” said Verily, “this man is not here to rob us.”
The fight quieted down. “You know each other,” said Abe.
“Abe Lincoln, meet Mike Fink. Mike Fink, vice versa.”
“Leave off that legal talk, Mr. Cooper,” said Mike. “It just riles me up and then I have to kill somebody.”
“Well, don’t kill Mr. Lincoln,” said Verily. “He hasn’t yet told me why he brought me to this godforsaken spot.”
“I don’t know either,” said Mike, “but this is where Peggy said you’d be on this very evening, so this is where I came to meet you.”
“Don’t tell me you rowed upstream the whole way from Hatrack River,” said Verily.
“I’d never tell such a lie,” said Mike Fink, “but it’s kind of flattering you’d think it was a possibility. Also kind of stupid, since half the journey would have been down the Hio, which ain’t upstream.”
“Ah. You didn’t start in Hatrack River,” said Verily.
“Vigor Church, and I took the train west to Moline and then I got a boat and came down the river. Got here this morning. You took your time coming. Springfield ain’t that far.”
“My butt says it was far enough,” said Coz. “They made me ride the uncomfortable horse.”
“Any horse with you on it’s gonna be uncomfortable,” said Abe.
“So Peggy knew that we’d be here,” said Verily.
“Who is this Peggy,” said Abe, “and how did she supposedly know days ago a thing I didn’t find out about till yesterday?”
“A man who fights like a big-armed baby oughtn’t to imply that a man that just whupped him is a liar,” said Mike.
“Didn’t accuse a soul,” said Abe. “I asked a question.”
“Peggy is Margaret Larner,” said Verily. “Alvin’s wife. I told you about her.”
“She didn’t happen to say,” said Abe, “whether the plan that brought us here is a good idea.”
The Crystal City: The Tales of Alvin Maker, Volume VI Page 27