Chapter 21: Lucy

I was able to keep all the spare muskets and dead men's ammunition only two days. Then I got persuaded, talked out of it you might say, convinced anyhow that it was in my interest to let the stuff go. I must admit that I was well rewarded. I rode into a small, nameless crossroad's village about noon under a sky that promised rain, found the blacksmith at work and got him to look at my two horses' feet and shoes. While he did that, I visited the local and had a bitter pint of beer.

"See ye've got some extra muskets there," a big, bulky man said as he came to stand beside me.

"Where'd they come from? Royal issue ain't they?" asked another large man who was suddenly on my other side.

"Who wants to know?" I asked, glad I was wearing my heavy belt and big bayonet.

"Cap'n Fredericks, local militia," said the big man.

"That you?" I asked him, taking in his farmer's clothes, frayed jacket and broken boots, his sweat-stained hat. He did have a piece of ribbon in his button hole, but there was no telling what color it had been.

He nodded and offered me a twist of tobacco. I declined and he bit off a chew. "Could use some more guns. Damn Tories been ripping up the county, worse'n highwaymen."

"I was taking those back to Greene's army," I said.

"Uh huh," he said. "Greene is it, not Washington but Greene?"

"Nathaniel Greene," I said, "replaced Gates."

"Oh," he said, "we'll, we'll do more with 'em than any army boys."

"Give ye a receipt," said the leaner man behind me, "all proper like."

"Have to think about it," I said. "After I talk to the smith." I started to leave.

I felt what was obviously the muzzle end of a pistol or large-bore musket against my back.

"Why'n't ye come and set a spell," the big man said, taking my arm. I had a few inches on him, but he had a stone or two or me and the gun at my back felt very hard indeed. I went to a table with him and sat.

"Now," he said, smiling and showing me his few, crooked teeth. "We's both on the same side, ain't we. Both want the same thing, rid us of the Redcoats, the King and his fuggin' taxes, all that nonsense."

I nodded and at his wave the serving wench brought three tins of beer over to our table. No one else was in the small ordinary that early in the day.

"You kin pay this round," the big man said. His partner kept the pistol in my ribs, half cocked I had noticed.

I dug out some coins and dropped them on the table where the girl scooped up two. I glanced at her and found myself looking at a pair of lovely, dark eyes in a face that had been fearfully ruined by small pox. Even her nose and ears had the deep craters and the skin she had left looked reddened and hard, like scar tissue. I smiled at her and she turned quickly and went back to the bar, hips swinging, hair bobbing.

"Ever seen the like?" asked the man behind me, poking me with his gun. "She were a pretty thing when she was young, right smart too."

"Pox took off her whole family 'cept her," said the big man who called himself a captain.

We talked and argued for a few minutes, and the blacksmith came in, got himself a beer and joined us.

"See y'met Cap'n Fred," he said to me with a smile. "Why you holding that there gun on him, Ben? He ain't going nowhere till I shoes his horse, the one he's ridin'. Should have all four done," he said to me.

"Fine," I said. "How much?"

"He with us?" the smithy asked Captain Frederick.

"Maybe," said the big man with a trace of a smile.

"Shit on maybe, mister," the smith said, suddenly angry and showing me the size of his fist. It was about as big as a dray horse's hoof and looked nearly as hard.

"I'm a Continental," I said, "Maryland Line."

"All right then," the smith said, "so why'n't y'give us them muskets, and I'll do the farrier work for nought."

"That's no bargain," I said. "Muskets are worth a pound a piece easy."

"Aw right," said the self-anointed captain, "We'll split with ye, take two and half the ammunition. How's that?"

"Better'n bein' dead," slyly suggest the man with the pistol in my back. He poked me as a reminder.

"How about we play cards for them," I suggested, "at a pound each; how's that?"

The three men looked at each other and the smith smiled. "Lucy," he yelled, "bring us some more beer and a deck."

The cards were well worn, and the three men I faced in the game tried to cooperate with each other, but I had one of those days when I could hardly lose. One of them kept coming up with second-best hands, and within a couple of hours I had nearly cleaned them out and had of pile of different kinds of money before me.

"Gotta get back to work," said the wiped-out blacksmith, a steady loser in our game, taking ten shilling s from my pile. "I'll get that horse shoed." He sniffed, shook his head and left.

Next the pistol-bearing militiaman quit. "Too damn rich for my blood," he said, leaving just me and the captain who produced two gold sovereigns from his waistcoat pocket to keep the game going. It took me the better part of another hour to separate those from him.

"Lucy," the man yelled, well into his cups after a day of beer drinking. The girl came to our table and stood quietly. "Siddown," the man said, pulling her arm. She sat, hands in her lap, looking out at nothing. "How much time's left?" he asked.

"Thirteen months," she said. "Little more'n a year." She had a fine, upright body, very womanly for one so young, likely the product of hard work.

He looked at me bleary eyed, belched, and said, "I give this gal money to bury her folks decent like. Didn' I?"

She nodded. Her tied-back hair hung in rich folds and heavy ringlets. She was, despite her pock-marked face, a handsome female.

"And she signed to me for two years, indenture. Right? To work here."

She nodded again, keeping her eyes down on the table, twisting her hands together in her lap.

"I own this place so she works it off, gets extra for, well. Now, now, le's see; I give you a quid for the carpenter an' what, six or eight shillings for the minister and all. Was it six?"

"Yes," she said softly.

"So you still owes fourteen, fifteen shillings, somethin' like that, way I figure."

She nodded again and glanced up at me. She had dressed her hair so curls hung down beside her face, sheltering her from view as much as possible.

"Cut'cha for 'er," the big, bluff man said with a grin. "Lucy 'gainst a pound."

"Rather not," I said.

"Blow out the candle, boy, an' she's a good piece. You don' has to look at her to screw 'er."

I reached across the table, grabbed his loosely tied neck scarf and twisted. His face turned purple and his veins bulged. He waved his hands and sputtered so I eased up some.

"Apologize," I said.

"Sorry," he mumbled, straightening his neck piece and pulling down his waistcoat.

"Look at her and say it."

He glared at me, glanced at the young woman and said, "Sorry, Lucy, damnit, I'm sorry."

"All right," I said, "Cut the cards." the deck was well worn with many cards having corners missing or bent, and I suspected he knew what a few of them were.

He looked at me as I shuffled, slapped the deck down and pushed a pound's worth of coins to the middle of the table. He fingered the deck and turned over a king. I cut just a few cards and showed him the ace of hearts I had palmed.