River

Samuel Postlethwaite

My brother Henry and I are at our usual table at the club. Our nephews Stephen and the other Samuel have joined us for dinner as well. We’ve been talking about the news the militia brings, of the troubles along the Trace. There’s a gang of brigands that has become bolder and more vicious, moving past simple thievery and beginning to terrorize families. There have even been some murders.

Gregor comes in the door, much to my surprise. I haven’t seen him here at the club since he got married months ago. He is quite devoted to his bride.

“Gregor!” We all greet him enthusiastically. He drags a chair over from a nearby table, and crowds in next to us, grinning.

“Trouble in paradise, my boy?” I ask him, chuckling. “Rosalind didn’t send you away, did she?”

He laughs. “Certainly not. We’ve already had dinner. But I thought perhaps she could use a quiet evening for once rather than listening to me blathering on about docks. I feel like it must tax the patience of any woman. So I thought perhaps having a drink here would provide her with some peace for a few minutes.”

We all look at each other and burst out laughing. “What a thoughtful husband you are, Gregor,” I tell him, grinning. “So, tell us about the docks instead. How is your project coming along? I’ve seen the framework going up, but I haven’t been down there to look at it closely.”

He enthusiastically begins. “We have the pile driver all constructed, and have just started getting ready to actually use it. We have to make some adjustments, test it out, make sure that the ropes and pulleys are all lined up properly. Hopefully in a couple of days we’ll start driving in the first logs.”

The drink he ordered is brought to the table, and he pauses to take a deep draft, then continues. “I’ve had to hire some extra crew. Those ropes take a lot of hands. I brought on a couple of new hires just today, named David and Ben. I imagine they’re getting settled in to the boarding house Under-the-hill right now.”

He pauses, glancing around the table at the rest of us, then smiles and takes another drink.

“So,” he says, “what else is going on around here? I have been so busy that I feel I have not heard about anything other than the dock.”

Henry says, “We were just talking about the brigands along the Trace. Apparently things are getting even worse up there.”

“Really?” Gregor asks. “How so?”

Stephen chimes in. “It sounds like there is a gang rampaging up and down the area, victimizing travelers. Worse than when you got involved in rescuing Samuel and Henry that one time. There’s been some terrible stories.”

Gregor’s eyes widen, and he waits for us to go on.

I oblige. “There is apparently a gang headed by a fellow named Mason, that has set up a sort of headquarters somewhere up there, but the militia hasn’t been able to find it. They want to root out the gang, because they have actually done some horrifying things. It seems that they have aligned themselves with the Harpe brothers, who are even more vicious. There have been tales of caravans of travelers being kidnapped and brought to their camp, stripped naked and thrown off cliffs for sport.”

“What?” Gregor says, obviously shocked.

“It’s true,” Stephen says. “Thomas was telling me about it last time he was here. He’s gone on some missions with the militia trying to find their camp, but whenever they think they have found where they are staying, the place is abandoned. Mason and the gang seem to be able to stay one step ahead of them.”

“What else can be done?” Gregor asks. “We can’t allow the Trace to be so unsafe that people’s lives are at risk. Surely there is a way to make the search easier? Recruit others to help look?”

I consider. “Well, money is always a motivating factor. Perhaps if there was a reward offered?”

He immediately says, “I would be delighted to contribute the funds for a reward. Whatever I can do to protect the community, and the Trace.”

“That is very generous, my boy,” I tell him. “You won’t be taking the Trace again, though, will you? Once the steamboats are going there won’t be as much need.”

“Well, in the meantime people will still have to take the road. Also, we are still waiting to hear back from my in-laws in Kentucky, to see if they would like to move here to Natchez. I wouldn’t want Rosalind’s family to be in danger as they travel.”

Ah. I can understand that. He has a personal stake. “Well,” I tell him, “I can talk to the militia’s captain tomorrow about raising a reward.”

Gregor turns to Stephen. “Do you know when Thomas will be back in town? Since he’s with the militia I’m sure that he’d want to be involved with this.”

“In a few days,” Stephen tells him. “He said he’d be back at least a week or two before my wedding.”

“Ah!” Gregor smiles. “How goes the planning for that?”

Stephen takes a deep breath and joyfully starts to describe the preparations for the big day, and I know that will be the topic of conversation for the rest of the evening. Stephen’s ability to discuss his upcoming nuptials and the marvels of his lovely bride is quite indefatigable.

Samuel, the other Samuel, seems unusually quiet this evening, I note, listening to his brother wax eloquent about his plans. I wonder what has gotten into him?

Gregor’s

“Well, mission accomplished,” he tells me silently as he walks home after his drink at the club. “I’ve informed Samuel that Ben is still in town, and set in motion a reward for Mason’s capture.”

“Quite a productive day,” I agree with him.

When he approaches home, he sees Moses walking around the perimeter of the house. It is already dark, even with the later sunset hour in the summer. “Thank you, Moses,” he tells the man, “for staying later tonight. I really appreciate it. All quiet?”

“Yes, sir, nobody has come close.”

“It is such a relief to know that you are here protecting the place while I am gone. Thank you, my friend.”

Moses smiles. “He is genuinely pleased to be of service,” I tell Gregor. It is true. Gregor has always brought out an unusual level of devotion in the people he interacts with. Most people. With others, as with Mason, it is sometimes an unusual level of enmity.

“Good night, then, sir,” Moses tells him.

“Good night. See you tomorrow.”

Gregor moves into the house, and finds Rosalind in the parlor with her needlework. “Thank you for letting me go to the club for a while,” he tells her.

She very nearly rolls her eyes at him, but refrains. “My goodness Gregor, you can do what you like. I don’t own you.”

He laughs softly. “Oh, but you do, darling. I am yours.” She emits an unladylike snort which makes him laugh even harder, before they both settle down.

He kisses her cheek then sits in the chair next to hers, peering at her project with interest. “You’re getting really good at embroidery, Rosalind,” he tells her.

She waves away the compliment with her hand. “It isn’t nearly as good as what Ann has shown me.”

“Well, you can’t deny that you are improving,” he replies. She looks at her work, nods with some satisfaction, and returns to her stitching. He picks up the book he had been reading. They enjoy the rest of the evening in a companionable silence.

Rosy’s

My beloved’s contentment is marvelous to behold. A year ago she would never have believed that this would be her lot in life. Married to a man that she deeply loves, with a child on the way, living in a comfortable home, everything she needs at hand. It is wonderful.

I am trying to become accustomed to the bizarre opacity of her husband’s thoughts. In my entire existence I have never before encountered a human whose thoughts were hidden from me. Much less those of his Guardian. But Gregor is always nothing but kind and loving towards my dearest one, and he has made her very happy.

All I can do is observe his behavior for clues about what he is thinking. He is obviously concerned about her safety, and has tasked his servant with ensuring her security whenever Gregor is not nearby. I have observed his plans unfold along the dock, have watched his interactions with the other men both Under-the-hill and above, and know only that he is deeply committed to both the dock project and to Rosy’s well-being.

It must be enough for me.