Chapter 5: A Job Offer

1865

"Uncle Luke wants to talk to you," Seth told his brother breathlessly. "Right now." He had run all the way back from the store with that request and stood panting beside Robert's old rocking chair on the back porch. The kitchen door stood open as it nearly always did, and two guinea hens seemed to be discussing whether or not they would explore the house. The cat dozed.

"About what?" asked Robert, crossing his ankles the other way and holding up the boat hull he was carving, a satisfied look on his lean face since his straking lines seemed nearly parallel and the keel was now smooth and even.

"'Bout goin' to work. His boy quit." Seth got his breath back and looked down at his skinny brother, feeling sorry for him mostly but a bit impatient as well. He had long enjoyed having a room of his own and being the man of the house, and Robert had shown absolutely no signs of doing anything except sitting, whistling and whittling.

"Where are his boys?" Robert asked, shaving the stern a bit more, holding the model before his left eye and closing his right.

"You know they never liked store keeping," Seth said. "One's married now, and the other's tending the farm, up there in Poolesville."

"Still Rebs?" Robert asked, raising an eyebrow at his eager brother. He rubbed the hull high on his cheek, enjoying the feel, thinking about what to use for masts and how to mount a rudder.

"Suppose so," Seth said. "Even after they got burnt out last year, well, I don't know, maybe not. Don't think they care much. Rode with Moseby."

"But probably."

Seth nodded. He had been aching to tell his brother about his adventure with the rebel scout but had never found the right time. Maybe now, he thought.

"Thanks," Robert said with a grin. "I'll go see him, but you know we didn't always get along very well."

"Yep," said Seth, "I heard a few of your rows, hard not to."

"Hiding in the back room, eh?" Robert asked, getting to his feet and brushing off his britches. He handed the unfinished boat to his brother.

Seth smiled up at him and set the smooth-sided little ship beside the sleeping cat. "Want me to come along?"

"Sure. Why not?"

The two young men, one nearly six feet tall and the other a half a head shorter but still growing, his ankles well out of his pants' legs, followed the narrow path through the hip-high grass to their uncle's rebuilt and newly stuccoed store and went in the wide-open back door. The place still smelled of burnt wood as well as of milled grain, spilled beer, pickle brine, tobacco smoke and leather goods.

Luke Williams was sitting behind his new counter on a high stool. He poured down his nearly-finished glass of beer, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, let the stool's front legs down to the dirty floor and said, "Robert, m'boy, 'bout time you come to visit yer ole uncle. How're y'doin'?"

"Better, Uncle Luke," Robert said, sticking out his hand for a vigorous shake. "Better every day. How's Aunt Hope?"

"Seth said you was eatin' like a horse," the grizzled man said, "or was it a mule?" He laughed at his own joke, bent down and refilled his glass from the hidden tap. "Wan' a beer?"

Robert shook his head, thinking it was pretty early in the day to start drinking. He looked about. "Sure have been some changes."

"Yes, yes," the burly man said. "Bit smaller now. Didn't bother t'rebuild the whole storeroom. Saved most a'the old floor. I ain't goin' to carry as much hardware no more, jus' the basic things, shovels and such, maybe some more canned goods. Places up in Rockville gets most a'that business nohow or folks still go on down t'Georgetown. How y'like the new shelves?"

"Sorry to hear about the fire," Robert said, nodding approval. "Damn shame. Glad nobody was hurt."

"Seared m'hands a bit," Luke Williams said, holding one open to show the puckered scar. "Scared Ma somethin' awful. Seth tell you 'bout it?"

Robert nodded. "Some. You wanted to talk to me about work?"

"Thas' right. Las' white boy done give it up, went on in to town t'work, chasing after a girl I think. You done a good job for me, making deliveries and such. Lot a'folks out there was surprised when you joined up."

Seth was going down the front of the counter, opening barrel lids one-by-one and peeking at the coarse oatmeal, alfalfa seeds, gray-green pickles, soda crackers and double-ground white flour. He filched a broken cracker and popped it into his mouth, his back turned to his uncle.

"Them the only britches y'own?" Luke asked, peering over his spectacles.

Robert looked down at his faded, blue uniform trousers, the wide seam-stripe nearly worn away. "Only ones that fit right now."

"See if one a'them over there'll do," the grizzled man said, waving at a pile of stiff clothes on the opposite side of the store. "Just got 'em in. Ain' even put prices on 'em; been too blamed busy."

Seth looked at the penny candy in the glass case near the front door, and then he watched Robert hold pants to his thin body until he found a pair about the right length. "Think Ma can probably make these fit," he said.