only a desperate boy could have negotiated, and unfortunately but out of necessity left two of his fellow companions behind, he made his way in the course of time to the house of Samuel Dodson, who owned that particular mining company. Thereupon he put a knife to the throats of Master Dodson, his lovely wife and the three little Dodsons and polished them all off, after which the house was burned down around their heads. The end yet just a beginning.' He finished his cup of cider, held it aloft as a tribute to the hero of his tale, and when Greathouse knocked it from his hand to the floor and James started the pistol-shot barking again Slaughter looked at his oppressor with an expression of dismay.
'What, then?' Slaughter asked. 'You don't like happy endings?'
Matthew had not eaten all of his stew; there remained a small fatty piece of brown meat at the bottom of the bowl. His stomach being rather queasy, he pushed the bowl away with a finger and sat very still, trying to decide if he was going to keep his food down or not.
'Not gonna eat that?' Tom asked, and when Matthew shook his head the boy reached across the table, took Matthew's bowl and placed it on the floor as an added treat for James.
'Thank you for your confession,' said Reverend Burton in a raspy voice, his hands folded before him on the table. The knuckles had paled. 'I regret your troubles.'
'Oh, who said it happened to
'You're as mad as a three-legged billygoat,' Greathouse told him, as the red slowly drained from his face. He rubbed his forehead, as if to dispel as best as he could the gory scene that Slaughter had painted, and then he turned his attention to Burton. 'We appreciate your hospitality. If we can sleep in the barn tonight, we'll be on our way first thing in the morning.'
'To Fort Laurens.'
'Yes, sir.'
'There's something you ought to know, then,' Burton said, and Matthew leaned slightly forward because he'd heard something in the old man's voice that did not bode well. 'Fort Laurens has been deserted for oh many years before New Unity began. A dispute with the Indians, more than thirty years ago, is what they say in Belvedere. A series of raids killed most of the inhabitants and destroyed the fort. Therefore I don't quite understand why you two are taking a prisoner to Fort Laurens, when nothing's there but ruins.'
Neither Matthew nor Greathouse knew what to say. But Slaughter spoke up: 'They are taking me to Fort Laurens-I should say, to what remains of Fort Laurens-in order to seize money and trinkets that I've buried there. The agreement was that, if I take them to this bounty and give it to them, they will let me go. But here's the thing, sir. I think they're lying. I think that when they get their hands on the money, they're either going to keep me in irons or, more likely, they're going to kill me.' He paused to let that sink in, as both his escorts were too astonished to speak. 'I see your Bible in the corner, sir. Would you do the godly thing and have these men vow on the Holy Book that they will do what they've promised?'
Twelve
Matthew writhed inwardly, knowing he could never put his hand on a Bible and tell a lie. To emphasize his danger, another bolt of lightning shot white beyond the shutters and thunder blasted overhead. He kept his face down, staring at a scuffed spot on the table.
Greathouse scratched the stubble on his chin, but made no other demonstration.
'Do it, pastor,' Slaughter urged, his eyes ashine and his brows twitching. 'Make them swear on the book.'
Burton tapped his fingers. He cast his gaze in the direction of Slaughter's voice but said nothing for a space of time, during which Matthew thought he'd rather be in the long dark tunnel than this candlelit room. At last the reverend said, 'Obviously you feel yourself to be at the mercy of these two men, yet I assume you initiated this um
'Make them swear!' Slaughter hissed. 'Their hands on the book!'
'I will not,' came the solemn answer. 'In so much as, being of limited mind, I do not understand their motivations. Yet God, being of infinite mind, does understand. The only thing I can say is, do not let greed lead you into the valley of destruction. Take this man, with all proper respect, to New York as you are charged and be done with him. Remember also, that Christ showed mercy to the poorest wreckage of life. Should you not try to do the same?'
'That's right.' Slaughter nodded vigorously. 'Mercy. Listen to the reverend, gentlemen. He talks a peach, doesn't he?'
'I think,' Greathouse said, 'that it's time for your irons to go back on.'
Burdened by the manacles, the leg irons and the heavy ball, Slaughter sank down to the floor with his back against the wall. He closed his eyes as James sniffed the air and growled in his direction. Outside, the rain continued to fall steadily. Matthew noted that water was dripping from several places in the roof, and Tom put pots around to catch what he could. More wood was added to the fire. Reverend Burton asked Greathouse to bring the Bible over to the table and read to him from the Book of First Timothy, which Greathouse did without noticeable complaint. Tom went to work scrubbing the bowls and utensils with ashes, and Matthew silently helped him in his task.
When the work was done, Tom brought a small box from the bookcase and opened it in front of Matthew. 'You play?' he asked, showing two sets of crudely-carved but useful chess pieces, one in dark wood and the other a few shades lighter. Matthew nodded, both surprised and grateful to find one of his greatest pleasures out in these forsaken woods. Tom fetched a battered chessboard from the cupboard at the back of the room, and he and Matthew sat down in the chairs before the fire, set the board and pieces up on the small table between them, and began their war.
The first game Matthew won with ease. The second was not so easy, and it appeared to Matthew that Tom was a quick student, for before this contest was over Matthew had lost his queen, his defense of his king was in jeopardy and Tom's knights were threatening mayhem. But experience won out, and Tom nodded and turned his king over when it was certain there was no escape.
During the third game, Matthew noticed how Tom would lean down and rub or scratch the dog that lay nestled against his foot. Clearly, they had a strong connection between them, and at one point Tom picked James up and held him in his lap, and spent a moment rubbing the dog's back while Matthew puzzled over a potential move.
'Gonna let him go?' Tom asked, quietly enough not to be heard by Greathouse, who was still involved in reading First Timothy, or Slaughter, who snored on the floor.
Matthew knew Tom wasn't talking about the bishop that was being stalked by two rooks. 'No,' he answered, just as quietly.
'Gonna kill him, then?'
'No.'
Tom waited for Matthew to make his move. Then he said, 'Maybe you ought to.'
The third game ended in another win for Matthew, but not before the soldiers all across the rank and file had been decimated for their generals.
Greathouse finished his reading, Reverend Burton nodded his approval, James got down off his master's lap and curled himself up on the little bed of straw, and Matthew reached into his waistcoat pocket and brought out a small leather drawstring pouch he'd purchased to keep his silver watch, a gift from Katherine Herrald, safe from the elements. Tom regarded him with interest as he opened the pouch and checked the time, finding it was nearly eight o'clock.
'Wake up.' Greathouse took his cap and coat from the wallpeg and gave Slaughter a none-too-gentle kick in that favorite fare of cannibals, the buttock. 'It's time to get to sleep.'
Burton lit another candle and put it into a punched-tin lantern for them. Matthew kept the pistol under his
