Horrible Harvest

Daddy didn’t have no drink to sip on, and he was a miserable cuss because of it. He would’ve been a miserable cuss with it, but sober miserable had a deeper cut of mean to it than drunk miserable. The trip to Charleston took two days. The terrain caused the gig to shutter and shake and toss us up, down, and around for most of our travels, and Daddy didn’t have his whisky to bear any of it, so he was in an intolerable mood by the time we arrived in the Holy City.

The cobblestone streets of Charleston offered up a slightly smoother trek. The bay found better traction on the somewhat bumpy uniformity of the thoroughfares and needed less coaxing to find a good pace.

Charleston was a marvel to me. To my young eyes, it seemed never-ending. It was said to be a little big city, but I didn’t see nothing little about it. The buildings lined the streets like a garrison of warriors holding a defensive position. It was businesses and homes mixed together like an old Southern recipe – a dash of this and dallop of that, and I’ll be damned if it weren’t a fine gourmet dish. The people skulking about was the key ingredient. They ranged from vintage aristocratic Southerners wearing their wealth like a goddamn grotesque second skin to knockabout paupers searching for handouts and garbage to et just to survive another turn of the clock. The number of steeples peppered throughout Charleston give it the name Holy City. Them suckers stretched skyward, as if they was ordered to present arms. Holy as it was, Charleston looked to be a city built for combat.    

Once the bay pulled the rig along King Street, Daddy got a bit more get-up in his go. He set up a little taller and give the sidewalks and back alleys a look over as we passed, eventually directing the bay to turn into Montrose Stables. Daddy claimed he knew Montrose, and he was sure he could cut a half-rate deal to board the horse and rig.

Come to find out, Montrose had gone missing weeks ago. No one had heard word of him in all that time. “Dead, most likely,” his replacement at the stable said. “He had a reputation for taking up imprudent practices. I’d say he met with reprisal at the wrong end of a married woman of wanton manners.”

Daddy groaned. “Well, that’s just dandy. He owed me a favor that I come to collect.”

“Doesn’t surprise me. He owed favors all over the Carolinas.”

“I wouldn’t have made the travels if I know’d he couldn’t make good. Brought my boy, I did. Lord, howdy, I’ve really been put out by this news.” It was a lie. Montrose wasn’t in no debt to Daddy. Most likely, if the two knew each other at all, it was the other way around.

“Well,” the replacement stable manager said, “what was this favor?”

“A half day’s rate for a full day’s housing. Feed, care, and any mechanics work on the rig included.”

The man give a chuckle. “That’s some favor.”

“Well, we served together. The war. Mexicany war.” Can’t say for sure, but that was most likely a lie too. Daddy only brought up the war when he was working a confidence scheme.

“Served together? Didn’t know Montrose served.”

“He didn’t talk much of it. Not a good memory for either of us.”

The man stroked his beard. “Half day’s rate for a full day?”

“He tried to offer it up for free, but I wouldn’t let him. I don’t take charity. Hard luck or no, I pay my way when I can.” Daddy’d take a handout with his pockets filled with gold.

The man patted the bay’s rear quarters and smiled. “I’ll honor his favor this time. Can’t make a habit of it, but we ain’t busy enough for me to turn away business anyhow.”

Daddy jumped from the rig and shook the man’s hand. “That is mighty decent of you, friend. May God bless you and your family.”

Daddy’d gone full conman by bringing God into his scheme.

He was so proud of himself he didn’t near stop patting his own back until we reached Market Street. The people we’d passed must’ve thought him a proud daddy strolling with his boy on a late summer’s day, that the smile he’d wore was just the pride he had in his son, his good luck to be a father to such a fine young man. Never would they thought he was just happy as a loon for stealing boarding from a stable manager who didn’t know no better.

We entered the open arcade of the market. The crowd before us was a mix of vendors selling their various wares, middling and upper-class whites perusing the goods, and slaves serving as pack mules to carry purchases. Vagrants skirted along the outside edges of the market, looking for good Christian ears for their hard luck stories. Daddy didn’t take notice of none of this. He strolled with get-up to a vender selling fish. The man looked to near shit his britches at the sight of Daddy.

“Tennyson,” he said with a good deal of shake in his voice.

“Holt.”

“Thought you was done with Charleston. Word is they tried to lock you away for good.”

“Ain’t no one man-enough in this shit-bucket to lock Horace Tennyson away for good.”

Holt nodded. “This your boy?”

Daddy seemed annoyed by his question. “What there is of him. Where’s Lady Faye set up these days?”

Holt’s face turnt sheet white, and he scanned the market for anyone with curious ears. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, friend,” he said, near ear-rattling loud. He leaned closer to Daddy and said, “You can’t ask a question like that with all these folks around, Tennyson. You know better.”

“You worry too much.”

“You don’t worry enough.” He looked around again before picking up a sheepshead from the marble slab. He leaned into Daddy as if he was showing him something on the fish, but he weren’t doing nothing but whispering the location of this Lady Faye. I looked past the two of ‘em having their secret conversation, through the arched opening behind them onto the street and seen a group of buzzards swoop in and battle over scraps of meat the vendors tossed aside. A vendor of various jerkies seen me watching the giant ugly birds and said with a bundle of jolly, “We call them Charleston Eagles, boy! Theys good luck.”

Daddy tugged on my shirt and pulled me along. “Let’s get on.”

He pushed his way through the crowd as if he had the right of way every which way he walked. He received annoyed looks and some cross words, but he didn’t give a damn.

When we reached the end of the first arcade, Daddy picked up his pace and turnt to his right, paying little attention to the mess of activity on the street. A carriage driver cursed him for not watching his step and Daddy paid him no mind. He just kept dragging me by the collar, not even giving a bark back to the driver, which wasn’t like Daddy at all. He was off to find this Lady Faye, and he didn’t have no time to give out his normal dose of wrath for slights of any kind. I didn’t have no idea who this woman was, but she was clearly magical if finding her was enough to keep Daddy’s temper bottled up.

Under the shadow of a towering church steeple, we rambled on at a pace that I couldn’t keep. Daddy grew tired of dragging me along and eventually let go of my shirt. It weren’t long before he put a half-block’s distance between us. At one point, I suspected he’d forgotten all about me. He turnt down a narrow side street and disappeared out of sight. I thought of turning and running back to the market, asking where the port was, and sneaking my way onto a boat that was bound for some far off place, but I lost my nerve when I reached the side street and seen Daddy in the doorway of a three story brick house talking to a woman in a smart dress of navy blue with what looked like two dozen buttons spanning from her bellybutton to her chin. Her hair was up on one side while the other side had fallen away and rested on her broad shoulder.

“This way, boy,” Daddy called out.

The woman squealed with delight when she seen me. “My, my, he’s as precious as a pearl. Look at that fine young man.”

I moved towards them as if I was being marched to the gallows.

“Pick up your pace. Lady Faye has got a treat for us.”

She slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t be bad. You go on in. Make your pick and scamper off to her room. I’ll set the boy up in the kitchen.”

She didn’t have to tell Daddy twice. He opened the door and bolted inside. I didn’t know what he was picking, but he was more enthusiastic about making his selection than I’d ever seen him.