“We?” John scowled, an expression of menace not to be taken lightly. “What is this we? I haven’t said I wanted anythin’ to do with this. I’ve just listened to you talk, that’s all. For the sake that you’re such a high-collar now, and I have to say you’re a fine smooth talker, Matthew. But talkin’ can only go so far.”
Matthew, as was his wont, took the initiative. “I agree. It is time for action.”
“You mean time to put my neck in a noose too, don’t you?”
“No, I do not.”
“Well, that’s what would happen. I don’t mean hangin’ myself. No, I’d never do that. But I mean ruinin’ my life. And for what?” John Five drew a long breath and shook his head. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter and almost disconsolate. “Ausley’s right. No one cares. No one will believe anythin’ that’s said again’ him. He has too many friends. From what you’ve told me, he’s lost too much money at them gamin’ tables to go behind bars, or be banished from the town. His debtors wouldn’t stand for it. So even if I spoke out-even if anyone spoke out-I’d be called a madman, or devil-possessed, or…who knows what would happen to me.”
“If you’re afraid for your life, I can tell you that Magistrate Powers will-”
“You talk and talk,” John Five said, and stepped forward upon Matthew with a grimness that made the elder man think their friendship-an orphans’ comraderie, as it were-was about to end with a broken jaw. “But you don’t listen,” John went on, though he checked his progress. He gazed toward the street, at the gents and ladies passing, at a horse-cart trundling by, at some children chasing each other and laughing as if all the world was a merriment. “I’ve asked Constance to be my wife. We’re to be joined in September.”
Constance Wade, Matthew knew, had been John’s love for nearly a year. He never thought John would get up the nerve to ask her, since she was the daughter of that stern-faced, black-garbed preacher William Wade, the man of whom it was said birds hushed singing when he cast the unblinking eye of God at them. Of course Matthew was happy for John Five, for Constance was certainly a fair maid and had a quick and lively mind, but he knew also what this meant.
John didn’t speak for a moment, and Matthew likewise held his tongue in check. Then John said, “Phillip Covey. Have you asked him?”
“I have. He steadfastly refuses.”
“Nicholas Robertson? John Galt?”
“Both I’ve asked, several times. Both have refused.”
“Then why me, Matthew? Why keep comin’ to me?”
“Because of what you’ve gone through. Not only from Ausley, but before. The Indian raid. The man who took you around and made you dance in the taverns. All that being knocked down, all that darkness and trouble. I thought you’d want to stand up and make sure that Ausley’s put away where he ought to be.” There was no response from John Five to this; the younger man’s face was emotionless. Matthew said firmly, “I thought you’d want to see justice done.”
Now, to Matthew’s surprise, a hint of emotion did return to John’s face, but it was the faintest trace of a knowing smile-or a slyness of knowledge, to be exact. “Justice done? Is that really it? Or do you just want to make me dance again?”
Matthew started to answer, to protest John’s point, but before he could the younger man said quietly, “Please hear me, Matthew, and make true of it. Ausley never touched you, did he? You were of an age he thought…older than he cared to bother, isn’t that right? So you heard things at night-cryin’ maybe, a scream or two-and that was all. Maybe you rolled over on your cot and you had a bad dream. Maybe you wished you could do somethin’, but you couldn’t. Maybe you just felt small and weak. But if anyone was to want to do somethin’ about Ausley now, Matthew, it would be me, and Covey, and Robertson, and Galt. We don’t. We just want to go on with our lives.” John paused to let that sink in. “Now you talk about justice bein’ done, and that’s a fine sentiment. But justice can’t always see clear, isn’t that the sayin’?”
“Nearly.”
“Near enough, I guess. If I-or any of the others-got up on the stand and swore again’ Ausley, there’s no for certain he’d get more than ol’ Grooder’s gettin’ right now. No, he wouldn’t even get that. He’d talk his way out of it. Or buy his way out, with that high constable in his pocket. And look what would become of me, Matthew, to admit to such a thing. I’m to be married in September. Do you think the Reverend Wade would say I was good enough for his daughter, if he was to know?”
“I think he and Constance might both appreciate your courage.”
“Ha!” John had almost laughed in Matthew’s face. His eyes looked scorched. “I don’t have that much courage.”
“So you’re just dismissing it.” Matthew felt sweat on his forehead and on the back of his neck. John Five had been his last hope. “Just dismissing it, for all time.”
“Yes,” came the reply without hesitation. “Because I’ve got a life to live, Matthew. I’m sorry for all them others, but I can’t help ’em. All I can do is help myself. Is that such a sin?”
Matthew was struck dumb. He’d feared that John Five would say no in this way-and indeed the tenor of their meetings had never indicated compliance, but hearing it outright was a major blow. Thoughts were spinning through his mind like whirlagigs. If there was no way to entreat any of Ausley’s earlier victims to speak out-and no way to get into the almshouse to gain the testimonies of new victims-then the Headmaster from Hell had indeed won the battle and the war. Which meant Matthew, for all his belief in the power and fairness of justice, was simply a piece of sounding brass without structure or composition. One reason he’d come to New York after leaving Fount Royal was to plan this attack and see it to the finish, and now-
“Life’s not easy for anyone,” John Five said. “You and me, we ought to know that better than most. But I think sometimes you’ve got to let bad things go, so you can move on. Just thinkin’ about it, over and over again, and keepin’ it in your head…it’s no good.”
“Yes,” Matthew agreed, though he didn’t know why. He’d heard himself speak as if from a vast distance.
“You ought to find somethin’ better than this to hold on to,” John said, not unkindly. “Somethin’ with a future to it.”
“A future,” Matthew echoed. “Yes. Possibly you’re right.” Inwardly, he was thinking he had failed himself and failed the others at the orphanage and failed even the memory of Magistrate Woodward. He could hear the magistrate, speaking from his deathbed: I have always been proud of you. Always. I knew from the first. When I saw you at the almshouse. The way you carried yourself. Something different and indefinable. But special. You will make your mark. Somewhere. You will make a profound difference to someone…just by being alive.
“Matthew?”
I have always been proud of you.
“Matthew?”
He realized John Five had said something he’d not caught. He came back to the moment like a swimmer gliding up through dark and dirty water. “What?”
“I asked if you would be goin’ to the social on Friday night.”
“Social?” He thought he’d seen an announcement about it, plastered up on a wall here and there. “What social?”
“At the church. Friday night. You know, Elizabeth Martin has got quite the eye for you.”
Matthew nodded vacantly. “The shoemaker’s daughter. Didn’t she just turn fourteen?”
“Well, what of it? She’s a fine-lookin’ girl, Matthew. I wouldn’t turn up my nose at such a prize, if I were you.”
“I’m not turning up my nose. I just…don’t feel in the spirit of companionship these days.”
“Who’s talkin’ about companionship, man? I’m talkin’ marriage!”
“If that’s so, your kettle’s got a crack in it.”
“Suit yourself, then. I’d best get back to work.” John made a motion toward the doorway and then hesitated. He stood in a shard of sunlight. “You can beat your head ’gainst a wall ’til it kills you,” he said. “It won’t ever knock the wall down, and then where’ll you be?”
“I don’t know,” came the answer, in a weary and soul-sick breath.
“I hope you’ll figure it out. Good day, Matthew.”
“Good day, John.”
John Five returned to the blacksmith shop, and Matthew-still hazy in the head, whether from his disappointment or the knock he’d taken last night-walked away to New Street and thence northward to Wall Street
