River

Gregor

My mind is wandering as I hammer planks, along with my crew. It won’t take us much longer to finish up the dock. They’re such an excellent group of workers, I’ll hate to see them disband when the project is finished.

Although, I’ve thought of lots of other things that could use a crew like this. The refuse heap Under-the-hill should be tended to regularly, and nobody sees to it until it gets so huge and overpoweringly smelly that it is a health hazard. I could use a crew to regularly cart the garbage outside of town. Even up in town there is no organized system of disposal, and the streets are often smelly and cluttered with discarded food and other items. It’s gross, and I have a baby on the way that I wouldn’t want wandering through streets filled with litter. I’ve seen communities in other lands that do a much better job of keeping clean. I wonder if there would be a way to establish some sort of garbage management team.

Also, I’ve been considering building a larger office down here, next to the steamboat dock. I know that once regular passenger traffic is established we will need somewhere to sell tickets, for passengers to wait, to manage baggage and cargo. The steamboat is enormous, it will hold a huge amount of cargo.

I think I will talk to the men soon about remaining on my crew, even after the dock is built. The more I think about it, the more work I believe I will be able to find for them.

I wonder if Ben will end up being one of them, whether Samuel will be able to successfully retrieve him. Samuel hasn’t returned, and I hope that means that he found Ben.

I am pleased to be thinking of more ways to linger in Natchez as Ayola grows up. I still want to make sure that my presence here seems natural to the local populace. I do not wish to be regarded as more eccentric than I already am.

Wolk listens in silence to my ruminations as usual, but suddenly the wolf lifts his head and yips with an amazed tone.

I pause what I am doing to look at him.

“What?” It can’t be my thoughts about my crew that has him so agitated.

“Darling, I have news to share that is so crazy that even I am having a hard time believing it.”

Really? “Well?”

“Some members of Mason’s gang are approaching Natchez.”

Ugh. I should have known that hoping Mason would never return was pointless. It was too good to be true. I put down my hammer, nod to my crew, and head into my office. I don’t want to have this conversation in public view.

“I assume Mason is with them?” Wolk is strangely almost laughing.

“Well, in a manner of speaking….” he hesitates, apparently agog at whatever it is that he knows.

“What is it? Please, for god’s sake, just spit it out!”

“I apologize, beloved, I am just very surprised. I will describe what I have learned.” He pauses for a moment, then continues. “Two members of Mason’s gang are about two miles northeast of Natchez, and heading in this direction. They go by the names of Little Harpe and James May. They intend to go to the bank and collect the reward money for the capture of Mason.”

“So do they have Mason with them?”

“Only his head.”

“WHAT?” I actually yelp that out loud, cover my mouth with my hand, knowing that some of my men must have heard it, then wait for Wolk to continue.

“It seems that Harpe decapitated Mason, and plans to present the head at the bank to claim the reward.”

I collapse into the wooden chair here at the small desk in the little office. “He killed Mason?”

“It appears from his memory that Mason was so seriously wounded, by Rosalind’s gunshot, that Harpe did not believe Mason would ever recover. Harpe strangled him, removed his head, placed it in a sack, and traveled to Natchez hoping for the reward money.”

I can see why Wolk seems half amused and half horrified. Mason is coming back, but as a head in a bag? Revolting, but what a relief to know that he will never trouble us again. And honestly, it sounds like Rosalind is actually the one who did him in. My beloved little wife has taken down the most notorious brigand in the region.

Wolk pauses, and I see the wolf shake his head, seeming yet more amazed. “Mason’s accomplice Stu was apparently with them when Mason died, and Harpe tried to force Stu to come into Natchez with them, at gunpoint. But last night Stu managed to escape, disappearing into the darkness.”

I think about the times I have seen Stu, when he was staring down the dock looking for David and Ben, or when he was fleeing the scene, running up towards the back of my street while I thought Rosalind had been injured. It still makes me shudder to remember it. “Is Stu going to be a problem?”

“I doubt it. He is nowhere nearby so I don’t know his current intentions, but from Harpe’s memory it appeared that he was most reluctant, even repulsed, to participate in the current plan to use Mason’s head to collect the reward.”

We fall quiet, and I try to formulate a plan. The reward is for the capture of Mason and his gang, and the people coming are members of his gang. I want them to be captured as well. I cannot believe that anybody walking around with a head in a bag could be a beneficial member of society.

“Do you know if anyone in town is familiar with the two men who are approaching?”

Wolk is silent for several minutes, and I know that he is dipping into the memories of the citizens of Natchez, looking for anyone who might have encountered the bandits.

“There are two or three people who escaped from them during journeys on the Trace, but they are not people whom you are already acquainted with.”

Hm. Well, I’m not above lying, that’s for sure. I leave my office and start walking up the hill.

“Where’s the militia leader?” I miss Thomas. It would be easier if he was still in town.

“The inspector of the militia, Matthew Moore, is currently engaged in a review of the militia’s books, in their headquarters near the club.”

Okay then. “How far away are the men?”

“I would expect them to be at the bank within about ten minutes.”

Hmmm. I think it is time to pay Samuel Postlethwaite a visit.

Samuel Postlethwaite

“Well, hello my boy! Come in, come in! Have a seat!”

I am happy to welcome Gregor into my office when he arrives. He doesn’t have an appointment, but we have never bothered with that. He is one of the bank’s biggest investors, and he is always welcome to stop by with any business he might have. Furthermore, I have had little chance to talk to him since the day of the incident with the brigand in front of his house, and perhaps I can wheedle a couple more juicy tidbits of gossip from him.

He smiles amiably and takes a seat in front of my desk.

“What can I do for you?” I ask him.

“Well, you might have noticed that the dock construction is nearly complete,” he says.

I nod, and wait to see what else he has to say.

“I have been thinking about extending my employment of the crew, rather than having them disband when the dock is finished. There are a few other projects that I think I should undertake, and I would like to check my accounts here to see if they are in order. Before I talk to the crew about staying on, I want to make sure that I have whatever funds and other arrangements I would need to go forward with additional work.”

This is certainly good news. I am always pleased when my largest customers are contemplating additional investments and financial activity.

“Of course, my boy, let me pull the records of your accounts, and we can go over them. Please wait here, I’ll be right back.”

I leave him sitting in my office and go to the area where we keep our records. While I am pulling out the files I will need, I hear the door to the bank open, and glance over to see who it is.

Two scruffy fellows, Kaintucks or some such, not anybody I will need to pay attention to. My clerk can handle it.

The clerk asks them from his counter, “May I help you?”

I am looking down into the files when I hear the response. “We’re here to collect the reward for Mason.”

I swivel around in astonishment, and watch as the man lifts a filthy bag he is holding, upends it, and dumps the contents onto the counter in front of my clerk.

I see my clerk scramble backwards in horror, overturning his chair, as a grotesque severed head rolls across the desk and falls onto the floor, leaking fluids, coming to rest with its bulging eyes staring at the ceiling.

I cannot stop myself from shouting, aghast at the spectacle, which causes Gregor to burst out of my office and stand staring at the scene.

We are speechless. Into the silence, the man comments, gesturing with the hand still holding the bag at the repugnant thing on the ground, “That there is Mason. I want the reward.”

I scarcely know what to do. Gregor has the presence of mind to tell me, “Well, I suppose you’ll have to verify this is being done properly, in order to pay out the reward money. I can go try to find the Militia Inspector and bring him back here.”

He looks at me, apparently far less flustered than I feel, and all I can do is agree. “Yes, please, do that.”

He quickly leaves the bank.

I look over at the scruffy fellows, as we all stand over the ghastly artifact on the formerly clean floor of the bank. I finally find my voice. I tell the men, “You can wait here, but for the love of god put that thing back in the bag.”

Gregor’s

It is always a pleasure to work together with him as his schemes fall into place. I provide the information he needs, but he formulates the strategies. His plans don’t always unfold as expected, as seen with the last interaction he had with Mason, but with me as his unseen advantage he usually succeeds in his endeavors, in any situation.

This one is truly astonishing, even for him. Even for me. We’ve been together for centuries, in constant communication, and despite that this situation seems new and different from anything we have encountered before.

“Head in a bag,” he doesn’t quite laugh to me. “That’s new.”

“Indeed.”

“Well,” he nearly snorts, “Mason has looked better. Although, I have to say that I prefer him this way.”

I laugh at him as we cross the little town to the office where the militia inspector is working.

Gregor knocks then pokes his head in the door. “Mr. Moore?” he asks.

The inspector looks up from his desk.

“You are needed at the bank,” Gregor tells him. “Two men have arrived with a severed head, and have said that they are claiming the reward for the bandit Mason.”

He can be excused for taking a moment to stare at Gregor, blinking, trying to process this information.

Gregor gives him a minute, then extends his hand. “I’m Gregor Slavson. I happened to be at the bank when they arrived.”

Moore takes his hand, more by rote than intention. “Yes, Mr. Slavson, I am aware of who you are.” There are few people in Natchez who are not. “This is happening at the bank?”

“Yes, the men are waiting there, with the bank employees who are quite unsettled. I believe we should hurry.”

Moore dons his militia jacket and cap, which he had not been wearing as he examined documents in his shirtsleeves. “All right, let’s go.”

He is over the initial shock of the news, and begins asking questions to obtain the information he needs to know. “Did you see the head?” he asks, grimacing as he anticipates that he will have to look at it himself.

“I did,” Gregor replies, glad to be answering questions rather than volunteering information. It seems more natural when he doesn’t have to lead every conversation in order to accomplish his goals. “I can identify it as being Mason, who I have encountered at least twice. I recognized his face.”

The inspector nods.

“You should know,” Gregor goes on, “that I think I might also recognize the two men who brought it in. I can’t be entirely sure, but I’ll bet there are other people in town who would know them.”

“Oh? Who are they?”

“I think they are other members of Mason’s gang. I believe they are known as Little Harpe and James May. Like I said, you’d have to confirm it, but I think I’m probably right.”

He stops walking for a moment. “Little Harpe? One of them is Little Harpe?”

Gregor nods. “I believe so. I saw him once with Mason,” he lies smoothly.

“Well,” the inspector says, “that changes things. Harpe is wanted too. He’s more dangerous than Mason ever was.” He stops to think for a minute. “Do me a favor, go on back to the bank and tell the men that the inspector is coming to verify their story and authorize the payment of the reward. We have to stall them while I get some more members of the militia together. If there is going to be a confrontation I need backup.”

Gregor nods. “I understand.”

My darling is full of energy as he returns to the bank. He is almost having fun.