Rebel in Time

But it was his manner that I found so disconcerting. As though he were a white man turned black. When we discussed things at night, when he was invisible to me, there was nothing in his voice to indicate that he was other than an educated Yankee. I have met many men of his race and have found them universally untutored, thick of speech and bereft of any grasp of grammar, savages but lately drawn from their jungle homes. But not this man. He was a mystery.

As always I was greeted with much enthusiasm at the Blue House hotel, undoubtedly since the owner, Mrs Henley, entertains the baseless hope that someday I shall smile with favour upon her not unattractive daughter Arabella, marry her and take her away to a far superior life. I encourage this ambition just enough to ensure that the service and the accommodation are of the finest, but not enough to entrap me in the treacly mire of matrimony. Mrs Henley herself admitted me and I quickly distracted her attention so she would not see the look of quick anger on Troy's countenance when she peremptorily sent him to the stable to bed with the horses. I do feel sorry for him, he is so unable to accept the social circumstances that his colour forces upon him. But I was not sorry enough to regret my sleeping on a feather bed while he shared the equine hay. For I am greatly in need of the respite, my wound having made me restive when trying to sleep on the hard ground night after night. This night I fell instantly into the embrace of Morpheus and stirred not a jot until I awoke in the morning feeling truly refreshed for the first time since my injury. I breakfasted heartily on ham, cornbread, fried corn fritters, eggs, kidneys, rashers of bacon, and sweet preserves. I was whistling when I joined Troy in the stable, but ceased instantly I caught his eye. He was scowling mightily and trying to brush bits of hay from his clothing.

'Good morning. Have you broken your fast?' I said.

'I have — if you consider cold grits and sour buttermilk a breakfast,' he growled.

'The food here isn't too good, is it,' I said, trying to put from my mind memory of the breakfast I had just eaten. 'Have you considered our plan of operation for the day?'

'A great deal — and I've decided to risk it. Letting McCulloch take a look at me, that is. If I go sneaking around it's only going to look more suspicious. I'm counting on the fact that the last time he saw me was a long way from here, and under very different circumstances. I don't think he'll recognize me. If he does, or asks you about me, do you know what to say?'

'I do. I have the cover story memorized.' He nodded, accepting my use of the term 'cover story', not realizing I had only recently learned this unusual phrase from him. 'You are a servant of my friend in New York, Dick Van Zandt, loaned to me for a time to assist me until my leg injuries are mended. Satisfactory?'

'Great. And don't forget, my name is Tom.' For some reason he smiled at that. 'Now let's get moving. I want to get this over with.'

Troy was silent during the drive, and I was aware of the tension that gripped him as we approached the house and halted before the front doorway. He helped me down and held the horse while I addressed myself to the bellpull. A servant answered, one familiar to me.

'Is your master at home?' I asked.

Before he could answer there was the drum of a horse's galloping hooves and the colonel himself rode up the drive.

'I'll be damned — is that you, Robbie!'

'It is indeed,' I said, turning and taking a hobbling step towards him as he dismounted. He took no notice of my servant, but over his shoulder I saw Troy's face frozen as rigid as a rock. I think he had found his man. McCulloch shook my hand, then indicated my leg.

'Fall off your horse?' he asked.

'Just about, an equally boring accident. Which forces me to travel about in this infernal buggy,'

'Well, come inside and I'll give you some whisky that will make you forget your troubles. Your darkie can take the trap around to the rear.'

He looked behind him as he said this, waving Troy off in a peremptory manner. Then he lowered his hand, but remained half-turned for an instant looking at Troy as he nodded then shuffled off leading the horse. The colonel took my arm as I made my slow way up the steps.

'Your servant,' he said. 'A new purchase on your part?'

'Tom? No, he's just a nigger I borrowed from a friend in New York, to drive me around. Why do you ask?'

'No reason. Just thought I had seen him before — but I couldn't, could I? All these apes look alike, don't they?'

He laughed, and I pretended equal merriment. When in Rome. We went in — and the whisky was as good as promised.

'Dammit, Wes,' I said, smacking my lips over it. 'As much as I love the distillate of the Western Isles, I must say that your Virginia product has a great deal to recommend it.'