This is the 1st short story I wrote for my ENG207 class this semester. It is strictly fiction but based around some of the facts of my brother's life (and death).
Randolph Bessemer was a rich and powerful man. Perhaps not as powerful as he once was, but definitely richer. His increased wealth was due, not to his own labor, but to those around him, particularly his consort, Will Rand, who now lay dying of brain cancer in a Fort Lauderdale hospital.
Randolph Bessemer, or R.B., as he like to be called, had been the band director at Louisville Boys Collegiate High School since the music department had been formed in the late ‘30’s. He had lead the LBCHS marching band to seven consecutive state championships and ten championships overall. They had marched in Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade, the Orange Bowl parade and the Rose Bowl parade. Closer to home, they marched in the Derby Parade every year and was the only high school band ever invited to play My Old Kentucky Home at the Derby. They were the most recognized high school marching band in the region.
All this gave R.B. power at LBCHS and in the community, unprecedented for a high school band director. It was also due, no doubt, to his family’s status as one of Louisville’s wealthiest, old-money families. Because of his and his family’s status, R.B. was used to having his way and obtaining what he wanted. He had rarely been turned down for anything in his life.
Rarely, that is, until he had tried to adopt Will Rand away from his family. Not only was he refused in no uncertain terms, he briefly feared Will Rand, Sr. was going to get up from his easy chair and bodily throw him out of his house. Mrs. Rand just looked like she was going to burst into tears. R.B. quickly backed down and attempted to sooth the old man’s ruffled feathers.
“Well now, I’m sorry, Mr. Rand. I didn’t mean no offense. I just think the world of young Will and would like to be able to provide him with as many opportunities as possible. I see now it was presumptuous of me to assume you would allow another man to become your son’s father. Will you instead allow me to take care of some of Will’s expenses? I’d like him to attend my music school, for instance. He has a wonderful, raw talent that I think our instructors could help refine and improve.”
Will, Sr. who also wanted the best for his only son, grudgingly relented. And so began R.B.’s long association with and explotation of the Rand family.
R.B. met young Will when Will walked into band class the fall of Will’s first year at LBCHS. R.B. had always had an eye for the young boys that came through his classroom, but he had never been so completely taken by any of them until he saw Will.
Will wasn’t extraordinarily good-looking by conventional standards, but his dark wavy hair, his deep blue eyes and his smooth pale complexion went together in such a way that it made you notice him. Then when he smiled, his slightly crooked grin made his whole face glow with an inner radiance that made him look angelic yet, at the same time, roguish. And his nature was as sweet as his looks. Will quickly became a leader in the band.
R.B. spent Will’s sophomore year captivated by his young percussionist and found any excuse he could think of to have him near. He offered Will extra lessons in percussion. He found out Will was interested in the new hi-fidelity record players and electronic kits and bought him a hi-fi kit to put together. Of course, he didn’t let Will know he bought it for him.
“Oh, Will,” R.B. said after band practice one day, “You know, I bought one of those hi-fi do-it-yourself kits a few weeks ago.”
“Oh, you did, Mr. Bessemer?” Will replied, “Those are so cool! I’d like to get one someday and see if I could put it together.”
“Well, that’s why I thought of you,” R.B. said innocently. “I got it all out and looked at it and I just don’t think I’ve got the time nor the patience to put it together. I was wondering if you might be interested in having it?”
Will’s face lit up the way R.B. loved and he exclaimed, “Oh, boy! Would I? That would be great. Oh!” and his face fell, “Those are expensive. I don’t think I can afford it, Mr. Bessemer.”
“No, no. Think of it as just my little gift to you for all the hard work you’ve done this year in band. You’ve really improved, Will. I’m very proud of you.”
“Oh, wow! Are you sure? That’s fantastic, Mr. Bessemer. Thank you so much!” With that, Will gave Mr. Bessemer a hug and started out the door. R.B. remembered that hug for days.
“Oh, Will?”
“Yes, Mr. Bessemer?”
“Let’s keep this our little secret, shall we? I wouldn’t want the other boys in the band getting jealous and giving you a hard time.”
“Oh, sure enough, Mr. Bessemer. Thanks again. See you tomorrow.”
By the end of Will’s junior year, he had become Mr. Bessemer’s student assistant during Will’s study hall. Will was flattered to have this worldly, older man’s attention; a man that had the same deep interest in music and performance as Will did. Will was comfortable enough with Mr. Bessemer, he thought nothing of the head caresses R.B. would give him as Will sat in his chair doing his homework or the hugs R.B. would give him when Will would leave to go to his next class. Will’s own parents were not demonstrative toward their children and, altho’ he didn’t realize it, Will craved this attention.
It was during the summer of Will’s junior year that R.B. had the conversation about adopting Will. After that, he realized if he became friendly with the Rands, then he could have all the access to Will he wanted. He started stopping by now and again with beer to share with Will, Sr. Will, Sr. worked swing shifts and Mrs. Rand, whose name was Marge, didn’t drive. So, sometimes he would call when he knew Will, Sr. was at work and see if Marge needed to go anywhere. Occasionally, he would offer to take the whole family out to dinner at Hasenour’s, which was a fine dining establishment in the Highlands at Oak and Barrett. The Hasenour family knew the Bessemers and R.B. could tell the Rands were impressed when Ray Hasenour stopped by their table to see if everything was all right.
After that, Will started spending more and more time with R.B. R.B. hired Will to mow his grass and do other minor chores around the house. He got to know all of R.B. family. R.B. still lived in the family home on Cherokee Parkway with his mother and his polio stricken sister, Adele. Adele wore a very heavy brace on one leg and walked with a pronounced limp. Will liked her a lot and would help her around the house and sit and talk with her for long periods. He found her to be extremely intelligent and he like that she had never treated him as a kid, but more like an equal.
After graduating in 1952, Will decided not to go to college, partly because his family couldn’t afford to send him and even though R.B. offered to pay for it, Will didn’t think he was too interested in all the other courses besides music he’d have to take to get a degree. It wasn’t like he needed the degree in order to get a good job. It was pretty easy to find lots of places that would hire a motivated, hard-working, young man right out of high school. All Will had to decide was what he wanted to pursue. Finally, after weeks of looking at the want ads and not finding anything that appealed to him, Will Sr. suggested he go talk to R.B. and see if he would hire him at his music school.
Will went to see Mr. Bessemer the next afternoon and was hired immediately as a sheet music and instrument salesman. Will still wasn’t sure this was what he wanted to do for the rest of his life, but for now it would do.
After a few years of working at the music school, R.B. got Will a job working with him as an assistant band director at LCBHS. It was around this time that R.B. presented his plan to Will. He wanted to establish a summer camp for high school marching bands. No one was doing anything like this at the time and the kids in marching band forgot a lot over the summer of what they learned. It would give band directors a chance to work on field routines for the next fall and give all the band students a head start on next season’s half-time shows.
R.B. proposed to Will that he would put the money up for the land and building materials and for a half interest Will could manage the project and help build the main structures and clear the land for the practice fields they would need initially.
Will was excited about the idea of a music camp and the idea they would be doing something that had never been tried before. He readily agreed even though he knew little about construction. He knew right where he could get help though. His father knew all about building, electrical and water systems from his time in the SeeBees during WWII. He went home that night and asked Will Sr. if he would be willing to help and give advice as he needed it.
It would take a lot of work. This was September. R.B. had already found 200 acres in the next county he wanted to buy. The deal went through quickly and Will worked constantly and hard through the fall and winter with his father’s help and invaluable knowledge in order to be able to have their first bands start the following summer.
No one in either family ever knew exactly when R.B. began his relationship with Will, a relationship that would last over twenty years. At first, they covered their tracks. They were seen out together at popular night spots but always with stylish women and Will never stayed overnight at the house on Cherokee. Nor did R.B. ever come to Will’s parent’s house unless he came to visit with both Will and his parents.
After the band camp was up and running, however, Will and R.B. moved out to the property. For a while they lived in a mobile home, while they worked on the camp. Dropping all pretense, yet never speaking of it, they shared the mobile home’s only large bedroom. After the main camp buildings were done, the next thing they built was a penthouse over one of the camp’s dorm buildings. If anyone in either family had any doubts about their relationship before this, they would have been erased with the construction of their huge master bedroom with the king size bed and the magnificent view of the surrounding hills and farmland. It was plainly obvious that R.B. and Will had become lovers somewhere along the way. Yet, no one in either family ever spoke of or even alluded to their relationship.
The next twenty years were extremely successful for R.B. and Will and the camp. At it’s height, the camp moved 800 band students through a week- running double meal sessions in order to seat them all. Will continued to work hard every day adding to, fixing and improving the infrastructure of the camp. Will, Sr. could often be found there, too, at his son’s side, helping with the latest project. R.B. continued to stay on Will, Sr.’s good side, buying the old man his first console color TV one year for Christmas.
Other family members from both the Bessemer and Rand sides were pressed into duty to help run the camp. Marge and Miss Mary, R.B.’s older sister, ran the kitchen, initially doing the bulk of the cooking, but eventually managing a staff. Will’s sisters and R.B.’s nieces worked as kitchen help and canteen servers. R.B.’s nephews also worked in the kitchen when needed and as field hands to prep the football fields, lifeguards for the pool and as general laborers. It was sun-up to midnight work and because it was family, R.B. felt he could get away with paying a pittance. The kids were given a small allowance each week, but no one got their entire pay until and unless they made it through the entire summer.
R.B. had other ideas, as well. He strongly encouraged his younger nephew, Ray, when he turned 16, to start dating Will’s sister, Chloe, who was the same age. He imagined marrying them off in order to start a Bessemer dynasty and strongly hinted at this to the young couple after they had gone out on a few dates. But Chloe had no intention of being railroaded into an arranged marriage and, besides, she thought of Ray more like a brother than a lover, since they had practically grown up together working at the camp. Once again, R.B. had his plans thwarted by a member of the Rand family.
The camp did so well, R.B. and Will bought a winter home in Fort Lauderdale, where they retreated each fall after camp closed. They stayed there the entire winter, coming back only for Christmas. One year R.B. sent word back shortly before Christmas; they wouldn’t be coming back to Kentucky that year.
Marge, now a widow, was upset. “Will would never do that. He’s never not spent Christmas with his family. Something’s wrong.”
And indeed there was. Will had had several blackouts over the previous summer. Fortunately, he had never been driving or operating heavy machinery, but consequently, because he hadn’t been hurt and he was always alone when they occurred, he never told anyone. Until they got to Florida and he had a blackout and a seizure in front of R.B. no one had any idea anything had been happening.
R.B. rushed Will to the hospital where they learned he had inoperable brain cancer and only a few months to live. The hospital admitted him in order to try and get the seizures under control and this was where his mother found him when she came to visit after Christmas. She was stunned. Not only by the fact her only son was hospitalized and dying, but by the fact that R.B. had decided not to tell her until he picked her up at the airport and asked where Will was.
Marge spent her entire three weeks at Will’s bedside, going back to the house only to sleep, eat a little and change her clothes. R.B. didn’t spend anywhere near that amount of time there, saying he had business that needed attended to. Fortunately, R.B.’s sister, Adele, was there to keep Marge company and to help Will. Adele had taken to spending the winters in Fl. with R.B. and Will because her bad leg had become more painful in the cold as she had aged.
One afternoon, shortly before Marge was to leave Ft. Lauderdale and return home, she was alone with Will in his room. He called her close, “I’m going to leave my share of the camp to you, Mom. My part belonged to Dad as much as me, anyway, as much work as he did there. I wanted to share it with him before he died, but R.B. said no. I want to make sure you’re not cut out of my share. R.B.’s having the lawyer draw up my will. That’s what I told him I wanted. It’s less than half now that we incorporated in order to let Ray come into the business. I think I own around 39 shares. I. . .I. .don’t. . exactly remember anymore.” He layed back drained from the conversation.
“Shh, now. Don’t you worry about that. I don’t care about any of it, Will. I’d give up everything I had, if it’d make you better. I just want you to get better.”
But Will didn’t hear his mom. He fallen asleep, exhausted from talking and the effects of the pain medication.
Marge never mentioned the conversation to R.B. Perhaps if she had let him know she was aware of what Will had wanted, things might have turned out differently.
R.B. never brought the papers Will was expecting. Instead in the weeks before he died, R.B. showed up with a different paper for Will to sign. Instead of leaving his shares to his mother, and ultimately to his two sisters, R.B. made him sign a paper stating that his claim to the camp consisted of only seven shares. Will weakly tried to protest but R.B. cut him off harshly, “Listen, you’ll do what I say, if you want me to continue to cover your medical bills. Otherwise, I’ll walk away and your family can find the money to cover this. You don’t have any insurance, you know. I’ll take care of you until the end, Will, and I’ll make sure your mom is taken care of, but you’re not giving your family any part of my band camp. It’s not going to happen. Sign the paper or I’m walking out and you’ll never see me again. You can die here alone and without a dime, for all I care. I’ll leave them here and let you think about it for a couple of days. Don’t try to die on me without signing them. I’ll make things very ugly for Marge, if you do.”
Will was stricken. He’d thought R.B. had truly loved him all these years but he realized in that moment that R.B. really only thought about R.B. and what he could get from the people around him. He may have cared for him in some fashion, but he had used him and his family to get what he wanted and now he was willing to walk away from him. Leave him to die alone if Will refused him.
What choice did he have? He had neither the time, strength nor money to fight him. He hoped his mom would question what had happened when this came out. He asked Adele to try and get her on the phone, but when she tried from his hospital room, the operator told her that the long-distance service had been requested turned off. Will signed the papers. He gave them to Adele to take home to R.B. and told her to tell R.B. not to come back to the hospital. Adele, however, still came every day and sat with him. Will was grateful to her and glad he didn’t have to be alone. R.B. stayed away until Will slipped into a coma three days before he died. Then he came back and sat by his bed holding his hand, playing the stricken friend.
R.B. did make good on one promise. He paid for everything. All the medical bills were taken care of. R.B. bought the most expensive casket the funeral home had. He had a one day visitation in Ft. Lauderdale for their Florida friends. He had Will’s body flown back to Louisville, where there was a three day visitation before the funeral. He bought the vault space in Evergreen Cemetery where Will was interred.
When the estate, such as it was, was probated and it came out there was no will and Marge was getting only seven shares in the band camp, Will’s sisters were outraged.
“Mom! You’ve got to do something!” Chloe raged. “R.B. is screwing you over. You and I both know Will had a bigger share of the camp then seven shares. Let’s go talk to a lawyer.”
But Marge just sighed, “No, Chloe. I don’t want to make waves with the Bessemers. They’ve been like family to us. I don’t want to lose R.B. and his sisters as friends and that’s what would happen if I do something like that. I don’t care about any of that. Just let it go. Will’s gone and he’s all I wanted.”
Even though Chloe and her sister raged about the injustice they knew had been committed, their mom refused to budge and there was nothing to be done.
Karma has it’s way of exacting justice, however. Not so many years later, R.B. became the first in his family to succumb to Alzheimer’s disease. Out of a large family of long, lived, vital till the end people, he alone lost his mind.
Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts
Friday, May 4, 2007
Randolph Bessemer - rev
This is the revision.
Randolph Bessemer ran his hand through his still dark hair and thought about what he was going to do and the fact that soon he would be alone. He sat in the dark out on the pool deck of the Florida house drinking his Manhattan. His companion and partner for over 30 years lay in the hospital only a few mile away dying from the horrible tumors that were taking up more and more space in his brain each day. He hated that he would be losing Will, and he hated himself for what he was about to do.
He got up and paced the edge of the pool, rubbing the ache in his belly that always seemed to be there these days. R.B., as he liked to be called, thought back over their years together. Will had always been sensitive and little shy. R.B. was taken with him from the time he had come into band class his first day at Louisville Boys Collegiate High School.
Will wasn’t extraordinarily good-looking by conventional standards, but his dark wavy hair, his deep blue eyes and his smooth pale complexion went together in such a way that it made you notice him. Then when he smiled, his slightly crooked grin made his whole face glow with an inner radiance that made him look angelic yet, at the same time, roguish. And his nature was as sweet as his looks. Despite his natural shyness, Will was popular with the other boys in the band and, because of his natural ability and talent, quickly became the lead percussionist in the band.
R.B. had struggled with his feelings for other boys at Will’s age and, after seeing Will day after day in band, saw that he was struggling with the same feelings.
There had been boys come through his band room from time to time in whom R.B. saw himself. While he was careful never to take advantage of his young pupils, he would take them under his wing in order to let them know in subtle conversations that what they were feeling was not as abnormal as many of them thought. Fortunately, it was easier to mentor young men in the forties and fifties and even into the early sixties than it became later. The new openness of society was what eventually precipitated R.B.’s retirement from LBCHS when the parents of some of his students became suspicious of his motives in taking an interest in their sons. So much for openness, thought R.B. wryly.
He and Will became quite close while Will was in the band. R.B. offered him extra instruction in percussion and conducting, eventually picking Will to be the drum major his senior year. In part, this was to keep Will close by because he was so attracted to him. But R.B. also tried to get Will to open up about his feelings for boys instead of girls but, until Will’s senior year, never got anywhere. R.B. still remembered the break-through conversation with Will.
“So, Will?” R.B. asked one day as they were finishing their private lesson. “Who are you asking to the Senior Dance?”
“Oh, ahhh, well, actually no one, Mr. Bessemer,” Will stammered, blushing slightly.
“I see. I figured a nice looking boy like you would have girls clamoring to go out with him.”
“Yeah, well, I got plenty of my two sister’s friends that are always hanging around giving me the googly eyes all the time and telling my sisters how much they would love to go out on a date with me!”
“But you don’t care for any of them?”
“It’s not that. They’re nice enough girls, I guess,” and Will took a deep breath, “If you like that sort of thing.” As he finished, he looked sideways at R.B. to see what reaction the older man would have to this circumspect revelation.
“I know what you mean. I don’t think we’re all meant to like the same kinds of people or things. Sometimes, you’re just attracted to someone just because you are. I don’t think it’s anybody’s business who that person might be, it’s just between the two of you. You have to be who you are and not worry about what the world thinks about that. Do you know what I mean?”
“So, you don’t think I’m kooky not liking girls? I’ve feel like I’m the only one that feels this way and I didn’t know who I could talk to about it. It’s time for my next class now, but can I talk to you about this sometime?”
“We can talk anytime, Will. I want you to be able to come to me about anything, but especially about this. I really do know what you’re going through.”
And that was the true beginning of our relationship, R.B. thought to himself. He sagged back into the chair, his fleshy body causing the lounger to groan underneath him. He took another deep swallow of the Manhattan and leaned back, closing his eyes.
He remembered Will as the young man standing across from him at his music school asking him for a job. Even if R.B. hadn’t actually needed an instrument and sheet music salesman, he would have still hired Will to work for him. He had actually grieved a bit at graduation the month before, thinking he wasn’t going to have any excuse to see or spend time with Will any longer and now here he was, standing before him, looking a bit apprehensive around the eyes as he tried to project a confidence R.B. was pretty sure he wasn’t feeling.
Now that he was eighteen and no longer his student, R.B. had no qualms about getting to know Will better.
“You’ve got the job, Will. You can learn the basics of instrument sales. I already know you’ll work hard and do your best. Let me take you out to dinner tonight and I’ll go over the job and give you some tips on how approach it. If that’s ok with you, let’s meet at my house at 8.”
“Sure, Mr. Bessemer. Thanks so much for giving me a chance. I’ll see you at eight.”
“OK, and Will? Now that I’m no longer your band teacher, I’d like it if you’d call me R.B., ok??
“Sure enough,” Will hesitated. “I’ll see you at 8. . .R.B.”
Later that evening, R.B. dressed carefully for his first date with Will. His dark blue suit was fresh from the cleaners and the red and blue striped tie stood in sharp contrast against his starched, white, cotton dress shirt. As he slipped the gold, monogrammed cuff links through the french cuffs, he was surprised to realize he actually felt nervous. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t found other men to go out with before this, but he knew this was special and he knew this evening might make or break his budding friendship with a young man that, up till now, had seen him more as a teacher than a friend.
He needn’t had worried. Will was shy, at first, to be in the company of someone he felt was so much more worldly and sophisticated than he, but as the evening wore on, he relaxed and became more willing to express his thoughts and opinions to R.B. about a variety of subjects. Since R.B. had only known Will in the context of the band and music class, he was impressed with how intelligent and well-read he was.
The evening ended back at R.B.’s house on Cherokee Drive. R.B. could see that Will was awed by the house which had been in the Bessemer family for three generations. It was one of the huge, old Neo-Classicals with 12 foot ceilings on the first floor, 9 foot ceilings on the second and a third floor with only 6 1/2 foot ceilings. R.B. walked Will through it, telling him about this and that piece of family history scattered about the rooms. If he was boring the young man to death, Will was too polite to show it and listened with interest to everything R.B. said.
As Will started to leave, he thanked R.B. for dinner and again for the job, then paused, “Soooo, was this a date?”
R.B. chuckled, “Do you want it to be a date?”
“I don’t know. I guess. I’ve never actually been on a date, you know.”
“Well, I can see that, seeing as how most of your classmates would have probably beat you up if you’d asked them out. Yeah, I’d say it was a date. And you know what happens at the end of a date, don’t you?”
“Uh, not exactly.”
“Generally if two people have had a good time and enjoyed each other’s company, they’ll share a kiss at the end of the night, like this” and R.B. leaned over and kissed Will softly on the lips. Then he pulled him to him in a hug and kissed him more firmly, one hand behind his head, his tongue just breaking through to brush Will’s teeth. “How was that?”, he said quietly.
“I, I, I feel kinda funny. A little afraid, I think.”
“It’s ok to feel funny and even a little afraid, Will. But don’t be afraid of me. I’d like us to spend more time with each other and get to know each other better. Become comfortable with each other and I want you to become comfortable with who you are. I don’t think you are yet, but we can talk about it all you want until you get comfortable. I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. I promise.”
“If I don’t want to, do I still have the job?”, Will asked, looking a little concerned.
“Yes. I won’t hold the job over you to get you to go out with me. Not yet, anyway.”
Will looked even more concerned.
“No, no. Don’t look like that. I’m just teasing you. You go home and think about it, Will. I’ll see you on Monday and we’ll get you rolling.” With that, R.B. let Will out the door and kept his fingers crossed that young Will would decide to take him up on his offer, despite their 20 year age difference.
I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. I promise. R.B. sighed and got up to fix himself another Manhattan. And yet, that’s just what I’m about to do. R.B. thought. You’re such a fucking bastard! Yeah, well, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do to protect his legacy. If things weren’t so goddamn backward and it was me in that hospital bed, Will would be thinking the same thing.
In fact, Will had wanted to protect some of his legacy and R.B. had refused him. R.B., walking heavily, took the fresh drink back out to the lanai and sat back down in the lounger.
Will eventually consented to being R.B.’s young man and also became one of the music school’s top salesmen. After a few years had passed, R.B. shared with Will his plan for the next phase of his life. He was going to sell or close the music school because he wanted to establish a summer camp for high school marching bands. No one was doing anything like this and the kids in marching band forgot a lot over the summer of what they learned. It would give band directors a chance to work on field routines for the next fall and give all the band students a head start on next season’s half-time shows. He wanted Will to become partners with him in the enterprise.
“That’s all well and good, R.B.”, Will said at dinner the night R.B. shared the plan with him. “I think it’s a great idea and I would love to be involved, but I don’t have that kind of money.”
“I thought of that and what I’m willing to propose is that we’ll go in as 50-50 partners with me providing the capital and you providing the contracting and labor. If you help me build it, Will, half will be yours.”
“Let me talk to my dad and see if he’s willing to help. He’s ex-Seebees and I know he has a lot of experience in the various building trades. I’ll need his help, if I do this.”
Will talked with his dad, Will, Sr. who surprised his son by being very willing to help his only son learn how to be a builder and general contractor. With a team of workers, Will and Will, Sr, with R.B.’s money had the camp up and running by the next summer after the land was purchased the previous fall. It wasn’t a big first summer and they had some bugs to work out of the operation but R.B. and Will considered it a success.
Once the camp became a reality, R.B. and Will moved in together, first sharing a mobile home at the camp. After a few years, they were ready to expand again. This time they built a penthouse over one of the camp’s new dorm buildings. If anyone in either family had ever had any doubts about their relationship before this, they would have been erased with the construction of their huge master bedroom with the king size bed and the magnificent view of the surrounding hills and farmland. It was plainly obvious now to anyone that knew them that R.B. and Will were lovers, yet, no one in either family ever spoke of or even alluded to their relationship. R.B. had always wondered why no one ever said anything. Will was relieved by that fact.
Their lives became defined by the work of the camp. R.B. managed the business side of things, while Will learned to handle many of the construction and physical plant needs of the camp. His father was a tremendous help. After a particularly grueling summer and fall of Will, Sr. helping to put in their own water treatment plant, the younger Will came to R.B. with a request.
“R.B., you know my dad has really helped us out a lot around here. I don’t know if we’d be where we are right now if it hadn’t been for him.”
“Uh-huh”, R.B. agreed, only half listening while he scanned the newspaper.
“Well, I want to cut him in on the deal. I’m thinking I want to give him twenty percent out of my share. Are you ok with that?”
R.B. laid the newspaper down. “I don’t think so. I don’t think that’s a very good idea. I want to keep it simple. I think should remain ours. It gets too complicated when you start bringing other people to the table. If you want to give him some cash for his work, I’ve no problem with that, but I think we need to keep the ownership just between us. We’ll get him a nice Christmas present this year. I’ve been thinking he’d like one of those new color TV’s. What do you think?”
Will stared at R.B. with a look R.B. had never seen. Hostility and incredulity washed across his face, “I don’t believe you! My dad works his butt off around here and you don’t think it’s a good idea to let him have some of my share! I’m not asking you to give him any part of yours! Why can’t I give him part of my share if I want to?!”
“Well, first off, Will, we never put anything into writing, you and I, so your shares of the camp are only what you and I agree they are. Now I know I said 50-50 when we started this and right now I’m still agreeable to that, but that’s only as long as you stay here. If you were to leave, you’d have nothing, unless you sued and you and your family don’t have the money for that. The other point is that this is OUR business and I don’t want other people thinking they have any say in it. I’m fond of your old man, but he and I don’t agree on certain things and he has no idea the decisions that need to be made to keep things running here and make a profit. And neither do you!”
And that was the beginning of Will’s cooling feelings toward me, sighed R.B. I don’t think he suspected until that moment how I’d taken advantage of him. I know I was a cad to not suggest we draw up a contract and he was too young and trusting to think of it until probably right at that minute. But didn’t you make sure he always had money in his account and a new car every other year. You always bought whatever he said he needed to run the place. You treated him good, didn’t you? You loved him.
Will never mentioned cutting his dad in again. Several years later, when R.B. wanted to bring young Ray, his nephew, into the business, he didn’t say anything to Will until he presented him with the letters of incorporation to sign. When Will noticed the shares were split 51% to R.B., 30% to Will and the remaining 19% to Ray, Will just stared at R.B. with a look more hurt than angry. R.B. hadn’t even been brave enough to stand up to it. He busied himself with some trivial paperwork on his desk, until Will put down the pen, threw the papers on his desk and walked out.
Now R.B. was about to hurt Will again. Only this time he wasn’t even going to let him know what he was doing. R.B. slammed his drink down on the side table, almost breaking the glass. One ice cube jumped out and skittered off the edge onto the concrete of the deck. He hated himself, but he couldn’t, he wouldn’t allow this to happen any other way. The camp was his idea and, while he had been perfectly willing to let Will share in the profit from that idea in exchange for his labor and loyalty, he certainly wasn’t going to lose 30% of it to Will’s family. In fact, the papers R.B. had for Will to sign transferred all but seven shares to Ray, at Will’s request, superceding his previous will. If only Will hadn’t insisted on having his will drawn up, this would be so much easier.
“R.B., we need to talk,” Will had said to him one late, summer afternoon while they were both working in the camp’s office. “Now that Dad’s gone, I’m going to draw up my own will. You might as well know, right now, that I’m not going to leave you my share of the camp. It seems to me, anyway, the longer I’m around, somehow the less I own of this place. If I go before you, I want to know that Mom or, if she’s gone, my sisters will get my share of the camp. I want it in writing that that’s the way it should go. You already have so much, I want to make sure that they have something from the work I’ve spent my life doing.”
“Sure, Will, if that’s what you want to do, go right ahead. I’m not going to stop you. I’ll just offer to buy them out and I’m sure I can make them a generous offer. As to you owning less the longer you’re here, frankly, you should be thankful I didn’t just kick you out with nothing and give your share to Ray. I love you, boy, and that’s why I didn’t. But until we incorporated, you do realize that your share only existed through my good graces and appreciation for the work you’ve done here. I just want to make that perfectly clear to you.”
But the truth is, Will, I can’t afford to buy them out right now. The camp’s not done as well the last year or two, with the cost of everything going up. With the cost of your illness on top of everything else, it’s probably going to cost me a great deal of money to keep things operating. I’m actually going to help your family out by not letting them get involved. It may bankrupt me, Will, and if they own much of it, it may bankrupt them as well. I’m just thinking of you.
With that final thought, R.B. downed the last of many Manhattan’s and fell into bed, sleeping the deep, dreamless sleep of the drunk and guiltless.
The next morning he went to the hospital, papers in hand, hungover, with the guilt returning in force.
“How are you doing today, sweet boy?” R.B. ran his hand down Will’s arm, giving his hand a squeeze when he got to it.
“I feel pretty weak. I don’t think I’ll be around much longer. I’m so tired!”
“I wish I could do more for you.”
“You’ve done so much for me, R.B. I want you to know that despite our troubles in the past, I’m grateful to you for all you’ve ever done for me. And the life I’ve had with you. There are things I wisht had turned out different and yes, I guess, I mean, I have some regrets, but there's nothing to be done about it now. I realize I made my bed and. . .Anyway, even when I didn't like you very much, I guess I kept on loving you I. . .I wanted you to know that. . .before. . .” Will’s voice trailed off.
“Now, now. We’ve had a good run, I’d say. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you. I do need you to do one thing for me, if you can manage it. I have this paper here that you need to sign. It’s to allow me to make your medical decisions for you when. . . in case you go. . . aren’t able to. It also makes me responsible for all the medical bills that the insurance doesn’t cover. Here just sign down at the bottom.” And R.B. laid the paper down for Will to sign, making sure the top part stayed covered so he couldn’t read it. Although, it’s doubtful he would have. He could barely manage his signature at the bottom as it was.
Later that day, R.B. called their lawyer back in Kentucky, “Bob? R.B. here. Yeah, well, thanks. He’s not doing too well. The doctors say it’s only a matter of days now. Thanks. Listen, that’s why I called. Will’s drawn up a new will and he wanted me to make sure to call and tell you to destroy your copy of the other one. Yeah, I can send you a copy, if you need it. Ok, I’d appreciate it. I’ll get it out tomorrow. Thanks. Talk to you soon. What’s that? Oh, yeah, sure, I’ll let you know about any arrangements when it happens. Bye, now.” With that, R.B. hung up the phone.
He walked over to the bar at the side of the living room and fixed himself another Manhattan and took a long sip of it. He sat it down and picked up a set of papers bound in blue legal paper and his lighter. Then he walked to the fireplace, opened the draft, laid the papers on the grate and held the lighter to them. They caught, burned quickly and left a small pile of ash in the bottom that the housekeeper would later complain about having to clean up. It was done. R.B. took another long drink.
Less than ten years later, karma exacted it’s revenge on R.B.’s betrayal. The doctors called it senior dementia, not Alzheimer’s. Out of three generations of a large family of long-lived, vital ‘till the end people, he alone lost his mind.
Randolph Bessemer ran his hand through his still dark hair and thought about what he was going to do and the fact that soon he would be alone. He sat in the dark out on the pool deck of the Florida house drinking his Manhattan. His companion and partner for over 30 years lay in the hospital only a few mile away dying from the horrible tumors that were taking up more and more space in his brain each day. He hated that he would be losing Will, and he hated himself for what he was about to do.
He got up and paced the edge of the pool, rubbing the ache in his belly that always seemed to be there these days. R.B., as he liked to be called, thought back over their years together. Will had always been sensitive and little shy. R.B. was taken with him from the time he had come into band class his first day at Louisville Boys Collegiate High School.
Will wasn’t extraordinarily good-looking by conventional standards, but his dark wavy hair, his deep blue eyes and his smooth pale complexion went together in such a way that it made you notice him. Then when he smiled, his slightly crooked grin made his whole face glow with an inner radiance that made him look angelic yet, at the same time, roguish. And his nature was as sweet as his looks. Despite his natural shyness, Will was popular with the other boys in the band and, because of his natural ability and talent, quickly became the lead percussionist in the band.
R.B. had struggled with his feelings for other boys at Will’s age and, after seeing Will day after day in band, saw that he was struggling with the same feelings.
There had been boys come through his band room from time to time in whom R.B. saw himself. While he was careful never to take advantage of his young pupils, he would take them under his wing in order to let them know in subtle conversations that what they were feeling was not as abnormal as many of them thought. Fortunately, it was easier to mentor young men in the forties and fifties and even into the early sixties than it became later. The new openness of society was what eventually precipitated R.B.’s retirement from LBCHS when the parents of some of his students became suspicious of his motives in taking an interest in their sons. So much for openness, thought R.B. wryly.
He and Will became quite close while Will was in the band. R.B. offered him extra instruction in percussion and conducting, eventually picking Will to be the drum major his senior year. In part, this was to keep Will close by because he was so attracted to him. But R.B. also tried to get Will to open up about his feelings for boys instead of girls but, until Will’s senior year, never got anywhere. R.B. still remembered the break-through conversation with Will.
“So, Will?” R.B. asked one day as they were finishing their private lesson. “Who are you asking to the Senior Dance?”
“Oh, ahhh, well, actually no one, Mr. Bessemer,” Will stammered, blushing slightly.
“I see. I figured a nice looking boy like you would have girls clamoring to go out with him.”
“Yeah, well, I got plenty of my two sister’s friends that are always hanging around giving me the googly eyes all the time and telling my sisters how much they would love to go out on a date with me!”
“But you don’t care for any of them?”
“It’s not that. They’re nice enough girls, I guess,” and Will took a deep breath, “If you like that sort of thing.” As he finished, he looked sideways at R.B. to see what reaction the older man would have to this circumspect revelation.
“I know what you mean. I don’t think we’re all meant to like the same kinds of people or things. Sometimes, you’re just attracted to someone just because you are. I don’t think it’s anybody’s business who that person might be, it’s just between the two of you. You have to be who you are and not worry about what the world thinks about that. Do you know what I mean?”
“So, you don’t think I’m kooky not liking girls? I’ve feel like I’m the only one that feels this way and I didn’t know who I could talk to about it. It’s time for my next class now, but can I talk to you about this sometime?”
“We can talk anytime, Will. I want you to be able to come to me about anything, but especially about this. I really do know what you’re going through.”
And that was the true beginning of our relationship, R.B. thought to himself. He sagged back into the chair, his fleshy body causing the lounger to groan underneath him. He took another deep swallow of the Manhattan and leaned back, closing his eyes.
He remembered Will as the young man standing across from him at his music school asking him for a job. Even if R.B. hadn’t actually needed an instrument and sheet music salesman, he would have still hired Will to work for him. He had actually grieved a bit at graduation the month before, thinking he wasn’t going to have any excuse to see or spend time with Will any longer and now here he was, standing before him, looking a bit apprehensive around the eyes as he tried to project a confidence R.B. was pretty sure he wasn’t feeling.
Now that he was eighteen and no longer his student, R.B. had no qualms about getting to know Will better.
“You’ve got the job, Will. You can learn the basics of instrument sales. I already know you’ll work hard and do your best. Let me take you out to dinner tonight and I’ll go over the job and give you some tips on how approach it. If that’s ok with you, let’s meet at my house at 8.”
“Sure, Mr. Bessemer. Thanks so much for giving me a chance. I’ll see you at eight.”
“OK, and Will? Now that I’m no longer your band teacher, I’d like it if you’d call me R.B., ok??
“Sure enough,” Will hesitated. “I’ll see you at 8. . .R.B.”
Later that evening, R.B. dressed carefully for his first date with Will. His dark blue suit was fresh from the cleaners and the red and blue striped tie stood in sharp contrast against his starched, white, cotton dress shirt. As he slipped the gold, monogrammed cuff links through the french cuffs, he was surprised to realize he actually felt nervous. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t found other men to go out with before this, but he knew this was special and he knew this evening might make or break his budding friendship with a young man that, up till now, had seen him more as a teacher than a friend.
He needn’t had worried. Will was shy, at first, to be in the company of someone he felt was so much more worldly and sophisticated than he, but as the evening wore on, he relaxed and became more willing to express his thoughts and opinions to R.B. about a variety of subjects. Since R.B. had only known Will in the context of the band and music class, he was impressed with how intelligent and well-read he was.
The evening ended back at R.B.’s house on Cherokee Drive. R.B. could see that Will was awed by the house which had been in the Bessemer family for three generations. It was one of the huge, old Neo-Classicals with 12 foot ceilings on the first floor, 9 foot ceilings on the second and a third floor with only 6 1/2 foot ceilings. R.B. walked Will through it, telling him about this and that piece of family history scattered about the rooms. If he was boring the young man to death, Will was too polite to show it and listened with interest to everything R.B. said.
As Will started to leave, he thanked R.B. for dinner and again for the job, then paused, “Soooo, was this a date?”
R.B. chuckled, “Do you want it to be a date?”
“I don’t know. I guess. I’ve never actually been on a date, you know.”
“Well, I can see that, seeing as how most of your classmates would have probably beat you up if you’d asked them out. Yeah, I’d say it was a date. And you know what happens at the end of a date, don’t you?”
“Uh, not exactly.”
“Generally if two people have had a good time and enjoyed each other’s company, they’ll share a kiss at the end of the night, like this” and R.B. leaned over and kissed Will softly on the lips. Then he pulled him to him in a hug and kissed him more firmly, one hand behind his head, his tongue just breaking through to brush Will’s teeth. “How was that?”, he said quietly.
“I, I, I feel kinda funny. A little afraid, I think.”
“It’s ok to feel funny and even a little afraid, Will. But don’t be afraid of me. I’d like us to spend more time with each other and get to know each other better. Become comfortable with each other and I want you to become comfortable with who you are. I don’t think you are yet, but we can talk about it all you want until you get comfortable. I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. I promise.”
“If I don’t want to, do I still have the job?”, Will asked, looking a little concerned.
“Yes. I won’t hold the job over you to get you to go out with me. Not yet, anyway.”
Will looked even more concerned.
“No, no. Don’t look like that. I’m just teasing you. You go home and think about it, Will. I’ll see you on Monday and we’ll get you rolling.” With that, R.B. let Will out the door and kept his fingers crossed that young Will would decide to take him up on his offer, despite their 20 year age difference.
I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. I promise. R.B. sighed and got up to fix himself another Manhattan. And yet, that’s just what I’m about to do. R.B. thought. You’re such a fucking bastard! Yeah, well, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do to protect his legacy. If things weren’t so goddamn backward and it was me in that hospital bed, Will would be thinking the same thing.
In fact, Will had wanted to protect some of his legacy and R.B. had refused him. R.B., walking heavily, took the fresh drink back out to the lanai and sat back down in the lounger.
Will eventually consented to being R.B.’s young man and also became one of the music school’s top salesmen. After a few years had passed, R.B. shared with Will his plan for the next phase of his life. He was going to sell or close the music school because he wanted to establish a summer camp for high school marching bands. No one was doing anything like this and the kids in marching band forgot a lot over the summer of what they learned. It would give band directors a chance to work on field routines for the next fall and give all the band students a head start on next season’s half-time shows. He wanted Will to become partners with him in the enterprise.
“That’s all well and good, R.B.”, Will said at dinner the night R.B. shared the plan with him. “I think it’s a great idea and I would love to be involved, but I don’t have that kind of money.”
“I thought of that and what I’m willing to propose is that we’ll go in as 50-50 partners with me providing the capital and you providing the contracting and labor. If you help me build it, Will, half will be yours.”
“Let me talk to my dad and see if he’s willing to help. He’s ex-Seebees and I know he has a lot of experience in the various building trades. I’ll need his help, if I do this.”
Will talked with his dad, Will, Sr. who surprised his son by being very willing to help his only son learn how to be a builder and general contractor. With a team of workers, Will and Will, Sr, with R.B.’s money had the camp up and running by the next summer after the land was purchased the previous fall. It wasn’t a big first summer and they had some bugs to work out of the operation but R.B. and Will considered it a success.
Once the camp became a reality, R.B. and Will moved in together, first sharing a mobile home at the camp. After a few years, they were ready to expand again. This time they built a penthouse over one of the camp’s new dorm buildings. If anyone in either family had ever had any doubts about their relationship before this, they would have been erased with the construction of their huge master bedroom with the king size bed and the magnificent view of the surrounding hills and farmland. It was plainly obvious now to anyone that knew them that R.B. and Will were lovers, yet, no one in either family ever spoke of or even alluded to their relationship. R.B. had always wondered why no one ever said anything. Will was relieved by that fact.
Their lives became defined by the work of the camp. R.B. managed the business side of things, while Will learned to handle many of the construction and physical plant needs of the camp. His father was a tremendous help. After a particularly grueling summer and fall of Will, Sr. helping to put in their own water treatment plant, the younger Will came to R.B. with a request.
“R.B., you know my dad has really helped us out a lot around here. I don’t know if we’d be where we are right now if it hadn’t been for him.”
“Uh-huh”, R.B. agreed, only half listening while he scanned the newspaper.
“Well, I want to cut him in on the deal. I’m thinking I want to give him twenty percent out of my share. Are you ok with that?”
R.B. laid the newspaper down. “I don’t think so. I don’t think that’s a very good idea. I want to keep it simple. I think should remain ours. It gets too complicated when you start bringing other people to the table. If you want to give him some cash for his work, I’ve no problem with that, but I think we need to keep the ownership just between us. We’ll get him a nice Christmas present this year. I’ve been thinking he’d like one of those new color TV’s. What do you think?”
Will stared at R.B. with a look R.B. had never seen. Hostility and incredulity washed across his face, “I don’t believe you! My dad works his butt off around here and you don’t think it’s a good idea to let him have some of my share! I’m not asking you to give him any part of yours! Why can’t I give him part of my share if I want to?!”
“Well, first off, Will, we never put anything into writing, you and I, so your shares of the camp are only what you and I agree they are. Now I know I said 50-50 when we started this and right now I’m still agreeable to that, but that’s only as long as you stay here. If you were to leave, you’d have nothing, unless you sued and you and your family don’t have the money for that. The other point is that this is OUR business and I don’t want other people thinking they have any say in it. I’m fond of your old man, but he and I don’t agree on certain things and he has no idea the decisions that need to be made to keep things running here and make a profit. And neither do you!”
And that was the beginning of Will’s cooling feelings toward me, sighed R.B. I don’t think he suspected until that moment how I’d taken advantage of him. I know I was a cad to not suggest we draw up a contract and he was too young and trusting to think of it until probably right at that minute. But didn’t you make sure he always had money in his account and a new car every other year. You always bought whatever he said he needed to run the place. You treated him good, didn’t you? You loved him.
Will never mentioned cutting his dad in again. Several years later, when R.B. wanted to bring young Ray, his nephew, into the business, he didn’t say anything to Will until he presented him with the letters of incorporation to sign. When Will noticed the shares were split 51% to R.B., 30% to Will and the remaining 19% to Ray, Will just stared at R.B. with a look more hurt than angry. R.B. hadn’t even been brave enough to stand up to it. He busied himself with some trivial paperwork on his desk, until Will put down the pen, threw the papers on his desk and walked out.
Now R.B. was about to hurt Will again. Only this time he wasn’t even going to let him know what he was doing. R.B. slammed his drink down on the side table, almost breaking the glass. One ice cube jumped out and skittered off the edge onto the concrete of the deck. He hated himself, but he couldn’t, he wouldn’t allow this to happen any other way. The camp was his idea and, while he had been perfectly willing to let Will share in the profit from that idea in exchange for his labor and loyalty, he certainly wasn’t going to lose 30% of it to Will’s family. In fact, the papers R.B. had for Will to sign transferred all but seven shares to Ray, at Will’s request, superceding his previous will. If only Will hadn’t insisted on having his will drawn up, this would be so much easier.
“R.B., we need to talk,” Will had said to him one late, summer afternoon while they were both working in the camp’s office. “Now that Dad’s gone, I’m going to draw up my own will. You might as well know, right now, that I’m not going to leave you my share of the camp. It seems to me, anyway, the longer I’m around, somehow the less I own of this place. If I go before you, I want to know that Mom or, if she’s gone, my sisters will get my share of the camp. I want it in writing that that’s the way it should go. You already have so much, I want to make sure that they have something from the work I’ve spent my life doing.”
“Sure, Will, if that’s what you want to do, go right ahead. I’m not going to stop you. I’ll just offer to buy them out and I’m sure I can make them a generous offer. As to you owning less the longer you’re here, frankly, you should be thankful I didn’t just kick you out with nothing and give your share to Ray. I love you, boy, and that’s why I didn’t. But until we incorporated, you do realize that your share only existed through my good graces and appreciation for the work you’ve done here. I just want to make that perfectly clear to you.”
But the truth is, Will, I can’t afford to buy them out right now. The camp’s not done as well the last year or two, with the cost of everything going up. With the cost of your illness on top of everything else, it’s probably going to cost me a great deal of money to keep things operating. I’m actually going to help your family out by not letting them get involved. It may bankrupt me, Will, and if they own much of it, it may bankrupt them as well. I’m just thinking of you.
With that final thought, R.B. downed the last of many Manhattan’s and fell into bed, sleeping the deep, dreamless sleep of the drunk and guiltless.
The next morning he went to the hospital, papers in hand, hungover, with the guilt returning in force.
“How are you doing today, sweet boy?” R.B. ran his hand down Will’s arm, giving his hand a squeeze when he got to it.
“I feel pretty weak. I don’t think I’ll be around much longer. I’m so tired!”
“I wish I could do more for you.”
“You’ve done so much for me, R.B. I want you to know that despite our troubles in the past, I’m grateful to you for all you’ve ever done for me. And the life I’ve had with you. There are things I wisht had turned out different and yes, I guess, I mean, I have some regrets, but there's nothing to be done about it now. I realize I made my bed and. . .Anyway, even when I didn't like you very much, I guess I kept on loving you I. . .I wanted you to know that. . .before. . .” Will’s voice trailed off.
“Now, now. We’ve had a good run, I’d say. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you. I do need you to do one thing for me, if you can manage it. I have this paper here that you need to sign. It’s to allow me to make your medical decisions for you when. . . in case you go. . . aren’t able to. It also makes me responsible for all the medical bills that the insurance doesn’t cover. Here just sign down at the bottom.” And R.B. laid the paper down for Will to sign, making sure the top part stayed covered so he couldn’t read it. Although, it’s doubtful he would have. He could barely manage his signature at the bottom as it was.
Later that day, R.B. called their lawyer back in Kentucky, “Bob? R.B. here. Yeah, well, thanks. He’s not doing too well. The doctors say it’s only a matter of days now. Thanks. Listen, that’s why I called. Will’s drawn up a new will and he wanted me to make sure to call and tell you to destroy your copy of the other one. Yeah, I can send you a copy, if you need it. Ok, I’d appreciate it. I’ll get it out tomorrow. Thanks. Talk to you soon. What’s that? Oh, yeah, sure, I’ll let you know about any arrangements when it happens. Bye, now.” With that, R.B. hung up the phone.
He walked over to the bar at the side of the living room and fixed himself another Manhattan and took a long sip of it. He sat it down and picked up a set of papers bound in blue legal paper and his lighter. Then he walked to the fireplace, opened the draft, laid the papers on the grate and held the lighter to them. They caught, burned quickly and left a small pile of ash in the bottom that the housekeeper would later complain about having to clean up. It was done. R.B. took another long drink.
Less than ten years later, karma exacted it’s revenge on R.B.’s betrayal. The doctors called it senior dementia, not Alzheimer’s. Out of three generations of a large family of long-lived, vital ‘till the end people, he alone lost his mind.
Saturday, April 7, 2007
Ain't No Winners In This Game - pt 5
The Bluff tournament started on time at three the next afternoon. There were many more people that had come to town than would account for the twenty-five players who signed up and could actually show the ten stake required. Some fashioned themselves professional gamblers, some were just gambling on a chance for a change. Most would get a change before the night was over, just not the one they were hoping for.
There were five tables for five players each, set up out back of what passed as Independence’s only excuse for a saloon. When Jack, Suzy and Shannon stuck their heads in that afternoon, Suzy thought to herself that she had pissed in better outhouses.
A group of five might be tricky, Suzy thought. They had been used to playing and had only practiced with four players. She’d just have to be sharp and pick out their tells as quickly as she could. “You know how to do this,” she reminded herself silently. “Just relax and don’t second-guess yourself.”
When they realized it was necessary for Jack and Shannon to not start at the same table, some quick but discreet adjustments needed to be made. It was decided that Suzy would be more help to Jack and Shannon could work on his own. It was a bit riskier that way, but all Shannon had to do was win his table. He thought he would be able to handle all but the four or five that seemed likely to advance; Shannon included Jack in that bunch.
Fortunately, Colonel Ransdall hadn’t thought to ban spectators from crowding around the respective players. This allowed Suzy to stand directly behind Jack’s chair and instead of displaying her finger signals as she held her cards, she pressed them into Jack’s shoulders as he played. When asked by one of the other players at the table if he didn’t find his “girlfriend there” distracting, Jack assured him that his good-luck sister was never a distraction. Jack was a little concerned the fellow might suspect him of cheating after that comment, so the first time it was Jack’s deal he made sure the fellow got the winning hand. Jack felt Suzy’s finger poke him hard when he did that but he knew the fella wasn’t going to have a chance and he wanted him to remember one good hand. The second time it was Jack’s deal, he dealt himself the winning hand after he sent Suzy for a beer, just to assure there would be no petty accusations tossed his way later when he won the table. He got poked in the shoulder for that, as well. Jack easily took his table, but felt no satisfaction. He guessed at least half the men were gambling with money they could ill afford to lose and the look in their eyes when they realized their chance hadn’t paid off pained Jack. It was different taking money from people who could afford it or bastards who deserved to lose it, but Jack and Suzy had always operated on the Robin Hood principle ever since they had both read the story in childhood. They thought of it as an honorable way to be a thief and a liar, if you had need to be a thief and a liar. Take from the rich and give to the poor and worthy.
Only now they were the poor and worthy, but they still always tried to avoid duping those who couldn’t afford it. And now, that’s exactly what they were doing. It felt very wrong to them both.
Shannon had a bit more trouble dispatching his table’s players than he had anticipated, but eventually he finished the game off by giving himself two pair and denying his last opponent the Queen of Diamonds he needed for his straight flush.
There was a supper break until eight after the last table finished around five. Shannon, Jack and Suzy retired to a copse of trees about a mile out of town to take a quick supper of sandwiches made from last night’s catch of rabbit they had roasted. They needed to rethink how to make it plausible for Suzy to switch sides from Jack’s good-luck sister to Shannon’s paramour.
There were five tables for five players each, set up out back of what passed as Independence’s only excuse for a saloon. When Jack, Suzy and Shannon stuck their heads in that afternoon, Suzy thought to herself that she had pissed in better outhouses.
A group of five might be tricky, Suzy thought. They had been used to playing and had only practiced with four players. She’d just have to be sharp and pick out their tells as quickly as she could. “You know how to do this,” she reminded herself silently. “Just relax and don’t second-guess yourself.”
When they realized it was necessary for Jack and Shannon to not start at the same table, some quick but discreet adjustments needed to be made. It was decided that Suzy would be more help to Jack and Shannon could work on his own. It was a bit riskier that way, but all Shannon had to do was win his table. He thought he would be able to handle all but the four or five that seemed likely to advance; Shannon included Jack in that bunch.
Fortunately, Colonel Ransdall hadn’t thought to ban spectators from crowding around the respective players. This allowed Suzy to stand directly behind Jack’s chair and instead of displaying her finger signals as she held her cards, she pressed them into Jack’s shoulders as he played. When asked by one of the other players at the table if he didn’t find his “girlfriend there” distracting, Jack assured him that his good-luck sister was never a distraction. Jack was a little concerned the fellow might suspect him of cheating after that comment, so the first time it was Jack’s deal he made sure the fellow got the winning hand. Jack felt Suzy’s finger poke him hard when he did that but he knew the fella wasn’t going to have a chance and he wanted him to remember one good hand. The second time it was Jack’s deal, he dealt himself the winning hand after he sent Suzy for a beer, just to assure there would be no petty accusations tossed his way later when he won the table. He got poked in the shoulder for that, as well. Jack easily took his table, but felt no satisfaction. He guessed at least half the men were gambling with money they could ill afford to lose and the look in their eyes when they realized their chance hadn’t paid off pained Jack. It was different taking money from people who could afford it or bastards who deserved to lose it, but Jack and Suzy had always operated on the Robin Hood principle ever since they had both read the story in childhood. They thought of it as an honorable way to be a thief and a liar, if you had need to be a thief and a liar. Take from the rich and give to the poor and worthy.
Only now they were the poor and worthy, but they still always tried to avoid duping those who couldn’t afford it. And now, that’s exactly what they were doing. It felt very wrong to them both.
Shannon had a bit more trouble dispatching his table’s players than he had anticipated, but eventually he finished the game off by giving himself two pair and denying his last opponent the Queen of Diamonds he needed for his straight flush.
There was a supper break until eight after the last table finished around five. Shannon, Jack and Suzy retired to a copse of trees about a mile out of town to take a quick supper of sandwiches made from last night’s catch of rabbit they had roasted. They needed to rethink how to make it plausible for Suzy to switch sides from Jack’s good-luck sister to Shannon’s paramour.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Ain't No Winners In This Game - pt 4
Suzy lay in her bed, thinking about the game. If they could win one and two and there were at least ten players, her and Jack’s share would be about $150. They could leave right away for the West, but ten dollars is a lot of money, especially for a tournament of Bluff that was going to be chock full of professional gamblers, rounders, scoundrels and other ne’er do wells. Suzy and Jack, especially Jack, weren’t really in the same league as some of the folks they’d brushed up against recently. They were just cheating at cards and scamming the more well-off of society to get by and get them a stake, so they could go somewhere out West and settle. What if they lost? They’d be stuck in Independence, Nowhere with less opportunity to get Somewhere.
Suzy tossed and turned all night. By morning, she still didn’t know what she wanted to do. As she got up and wandered into the shared room, Jack was just coming in the door, looking much the worse for wear.
“You look terrible,” Suzy remarked. “Where have you been all night?”
Jack, looking a bit sheepish, shrugged. “Shannon and I went back out after we dropped you off. The plan was to discuss strategy for taking the game, but
after the second bottle of wine, we ended up at Janie’s, sharing another bottle of wine with Velvet and Darla Mae.”
Suzy rolled her eyes. She knew Jack occasionally visited the local whorehouse, but he was usually more discreet. Suzy suspected this new lack of discretion could be blamed on the influence of one Mr. Shannon O’Dell. Suzy was even more uncertain she liked Shannon all that much and felt her qualms about trusting him flare in the pit of her stomach.
“Well, we need to have a talk about this tournament. I really don’t have a good feeling about it nor him, Jack. If we lose, we’ll be right back where we were six months ago and we’ll have less opportunity to recoup our loss in a town the size of Independence. It’s not near big enough to let us play our games, nor are there as many rich pigeons to pluck. Have you thought about what we’ll do if we lose? I mean, really thought about it?”
“Shannon and I talked about it last night, for a long time. I just don’t see how we can lose. Between Shannon and me and you knowing whose bluffing and who’s not, how can we lose? Come on, Suzy! Last fair deal in the city. . . for us.” Jack grinned wickedly.
“You do realize 10 gold dollars is a fair chunk of our savings, Jack. I don’t like the idea of putting it all on one chance for a win. You not only have to get to the final game, you have to win it. And frankly, I’m not sure I trust Shannon O’Dell to not set you up for the fall while he skates away with all the money.”
Jack opened his mouth to protest, but Suzy cut him off. “But, if you want to try for it, I’ll do all I can to help. Heaven knows, you’ve gone along with all my plans since we left Tennessee. We’re going to have to work really hard this week on our signals and such and make sure they’re as subtle as we can make them.”
And so they did.
Afternoons were spent in the common space of Jack and Suzy’s rooms. After a light supper, they rested and prepared themselves for the evening. Shannon still needed to win his stake for the game and Suzy wanted to try and build up their cash reserves, just in case. Before they left for Independence, they agreed to play separately the first three nights and then have two practice nights with the three of them working together, just as they would at the tournament. Suzy wanted to be able to concentrate and was nervous about being able to do so considering how the last time they had all played together had gone.
As it turned out, everything went well for all. Jack and Suzy ended up netting ten dollars. Shannon managed nearly eleven but had a tense moment when another player accused him of “dealing off”. But as it happened, it was early in the game, when Shannon was dealing straight and letting the cards fall as they would. Fortunately, the fellow didn’t try and back up his complaint with his pistol or a knife and another player diffused the situation, so the game went on.
The practice nights were fairly tolerable. They didn’t lose, but between Shannon and Jack together, they ended the night up by only fifty cents. The important thing had been to be clear on what was happening in the game. They had worked out a fairly elaborate set of signals with Suzy as the go-between, posing as Shannon’s buckskin-clad, pistol-packing, magnolia blossom girlfriend. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but she’d agreed to go along with any plans they made. They made sure they went to some saloons they had never played before, as they didn’t want to run into anyone who would recognize Suzy, in particular, and wonder why she wasn’t playing. As the game played, Suzy would watch for tells and using her fingers on Shannon she would signal in code what the other players were telling her about the hands they held. It was similar to the finger code she and Jack had developed when they both played. They played the first few hands straight so Suzy would get a feel for who showed what as they played. Jack and Shannon would then start to deal crooked as their turn came around.
It was a little touch and go at the start, but by the second night, they were starting to work as a team. They pretty much evenly split the money from their three pigeons, which amounted to more than eighteen dollars. Since they knew they were heading out the next morning, they had decided ahead of time to clean out whomever they played that night.
They left early the next morning without a word to Miz Boatwright, the owner of the rooming house. Suzy felt bad about that ‘cause Adeline Boatwright had been real good to them and didn’t ask a lot of questions. Suzy left her the ten for next month’s rent and hoped it’d be OK. Shannon scoffed at her concern. “You ain’t never gonna be rich, spending your money to pay for your guilt. No need to feel guilty gulling pigeons.” He laughed at the joke he made.
“Miz Boatwright’s a good woman who works a whole lot harder than any of us,” Suzy retorted hotly. “She’s NOT a pigeon. She’s just trying to get by like all of us and at least, she’s trying to do it honestly. Not by cheating people. So you can just keep right on not feeling guilty about what you do, Mr. O’Dell, but I will always try to help the folks what’s gotten a rough road in this life any way I can, whenever I can.”
They arrived in Independence ten days later and found a farmer outside of town who was willing to let them sleep in his barn for a small fee. The game was to start the next afternoon, so they spent part of the day wandering around the town, such as it was, wondering how the game came to be here of all places. Wherever they went and ask about the game or the town, they kept hearing about Colonel Preston Ransdall, who came out here after the war and opened a supply station to outfit people heading for the Western territories. Business had slowed because of sandbars that kept building up at the steamboat landing. Then the cholera epidemic that hit last year wiped out a large portion of the permanent residents. After that, most folks wanting to head West decided that Westport was a better jumping-off place as it saved eighteen days of travel off the trail and eliminated a river crossing. Colonel Ransdall needed to attract more folks to the area to keep the town viable and he fancied himself a better Bluff player than most that played on the riverboats that used to stop there. He was hoping that folks might decide to stick around after he’d win all their money and they couldn’t afford to leave. He’d laugh big and boisterous after he’d say that. This made some people in the town a little nervous, for some reason when he’d do that, but they weren’t really sure why.
Suzy tossed and turned all night. By morning, she still didn’t know what she wanted to do. As she got up and wandered into the shared room, Jack was just coming in the door, looking much the worse for wear.
“You look terrible,” Suzy remarked. “Where have you been all night?”
Jack, looking a bit sheepish, shrugged. “Shannon and I went back out after we dropped you off. The plan was to discuss strategy for taking the game, but
after the second bottle of wine, we ended up at Janie’s, sharing another bottle of wine with Velvet and Darla Mae.”
Suzy rolled her eyes. She knew Jack occasionally visited the local whorehouse, but he was usually more discreet. Suzy suspected this new lack of discretion could be blamed on the influence of one Mr. Shannon O’Dell. Suzy was even more uncertain she liked Shannon all that much and felt her qualms about trusting him flare in the pit of her stomach.
“Well, we need to have a talk about this tournament. I really don’t have a good feeling about it nor him, Jack. If we lose, we’ll be right back where we were six months ago and we’ll have less opportunity to recoup our loss in a town the size of Independence. It’s not near big enough to let us play our games, nor are there as many rich pigeons to pluck. Have you thought about what we’ll do if we lose? I mean, really thought about it?”
“Shannon and I talked about it last night, for a long time. I just don’t see how we can lose. Between Shannon and me and you knowing whose bluffing and who’s not, how can we lose? Come on, Suzy! Last fair deal in the city. . . for us.” Jack grinned wickedly.
“You do realize 10 gold dollars is a fair chunk of our savings, Jack. I don’t like the idea of putting it all on one chance for a win. You not only have to get to the final game, you have to win it. And frankly, I’m not sure I trust Shannon O’Dell to not set you up for the fall while he skates away with all the money.”
Jack opened his mouth to protest, but Suzy cut him off. “But, if you want to try for it, I’ll do all I can to help. Heaven knows, you’ve gone along with all my plans since we left Tennessee. We’re going to have to work really hard this week on our signals and such and make sure they’re as subtle as we can make them.”
And so they did.
Afternoons were spent in the common space of Jack and Suzy’s rooms. After a light supper, they rested and prepared themselves for the evening. Shannon still needed to win his stake for the game and Suzy wanted to try and build up their cash reserves, just in case. Before they left for Independence, they agreed to play separately the first three nights and then have two practice nights with the three of them working together, just as they would at the tournament. Suzy wanted to be able to concentrate and was nervous about being able to do so considering how the last time they had all played together had gone.
As it turned out, everything went well for all. Jack and Suzy ended up netting ten dollars. Shannon managed nearly eleven but had a tense moment when another player accused him of “dealing off”. But as it happened, it was early in the game, when Shannon was dealing straight and letting the cards fall as they would. Fortunately, the fellow didn’t try and back up his complaint with his pistol or a knife and another player diffused the situation, so the game went on.
The practice nights were fairly tolerable. They didn’t lose, but between Shannon and Jack together, they ended the night up by only fifty cents. The important thing had been to be clear on what was happening in the game. They had worked out a fairly elaborate set of signals with Suzy as the go-between, posing as Shannon’s buckskin-clad, pistol-packing, magnolia blossom girlfriend. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but she’d agreed to go along with any plans they made. They made sure they went to some saloons they had never played before, as they didn’t want to run into anyone who would recognize Suzy, in particular, and wonder why she wasn’t playing. As the game played, Suzy would watch for tells and using her fingers on Shannon she would signal in code what the other players were telling her about the hands they held. It was similar to the finger code she and Jack had developed when they both played. They played the first few hands straight so Suzy would get a feel for who showed what as they played. Jack and Shannon would then start to deal crooked as their turn came around.
It was a little touch and go at the start, but by the second night, they were starting to work as a team. They pretty much evenly split the money from their three pigeons, which amounted to more than eighteen dollars. Since they knew they were heading out the next morning, they had decided ahead of time to clean out whomever they played that night.
They left early the next morning without a word to Miz Boatwright, the owner of the rooming house. Suzy felt bad about that ‘cause Adeline Boatwright had been real good to them and didn’t ask a lot of questions. Suzy left her the ten for next month’s rent and hoped it’d be OK. Shannon scoffed at her concern. “You ain’t never gonna be rich, spending your money to pay for your guilt. No need to feel guilty gulling pigeons.” He laughed at the joke he made.
“Miz Boatwright’s a good woman who works a whole lot harder than any of us,” Suzy retorted hotly. “She’s NOT a pigeon. She’s just trying to get by like all of us and at least, she’s trying to do it honestly. Not by cheating people. So you can just keep right on not feeling guilty about what you do, Mr. O’Dell, but I will always try to help the folks what’s gotten a rough road in this life any way I can, whenever I can.”
They arrived in Independence ten days later and found a farmer outside of town who was willing to let them sleep in his barn for a small fee. The game was to start the next afternoon, so they spent part of the day wandering around the town, such as it was, wondering how the game came to be here of all places. Wherever they went and ask about the game or the town, they kept hearing about Colonel Preston Ransdall, who came out here after the war and opened a supply station to outfit people heading for the Western territories. Business had slowed because of sandbars that kept building up at the steamboat landing. Then the cholera epidemic that hit last year wiped out a large portion of the permanent residents. After that, most folks wanting to head West decided that Westport was a better jumping-off place as it saved eighteen days of travel off the trail and eliminated a river crossing. Colonel Ransdall needed to attract more folks to the area to keep the town viable and he fancied himself a better Bluff player than most that played on the riverboats that used to stop there. He was hoping that folks might decide to stick around after he’d win all their money and they couldn’t afford to leave. He’d laugh big and boisterous after he’d say that. This made some people in the town a little nervous, for some reason when he’d do that, but they weren’t really sure why.
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
Ain't No Winners In This Game - pt 3
“You’re right. I don’t like that one damn bit. We’ve got a pretty good scheme going here and we’ve been getting along just fine by ourselves. Why you want’en to bring anyone else close in to us?”
“Well, he’s already done that by spying on us for days. It’s either that or we keep looking over our shoulders wondering what he’s gonna pull. ‘Cause I know he’s gonna pull something on us. I can feel it, Jack. And anyway, I was gonna wait till a bit later to bring this up, but we’re gonna have to think about moving on soon, anyway.”
“What’er you talkin’ about? Movin’ on? Movin’ on to where? Why? We gotta a pretty good thing going on here, Sissy, why should we leave?”
Suzy sighed. Sometimes she forgot how naive Jack still was, even with all the conning people out of their money they did every day. Patiently, she explained, “That’s just it, Jack, we’ve about milked this cow dry. We can’t keep working the same areas, even in different guises. We risk one of our former pigeons overhearing us or recognizing us and exposing us. We really need to stop everything but Bluff playing, especially now that Shannon is onto us. We can rely on the Bluff games for a while, but we only cover expenses with those most weeks. If Shannon plays along with us, we’ll have to let him have his share of the pots as well or he may expose us. Now why don’t you run over to his place and invite him to come along with us?”
“Why don’t you?” Jack sulked. He always hated it when his sister was right and he knew she was right about this.
“Now Jack, you know it wouldn’t be proper for me to go running across to Mr. O’Dell’s room. We may be grifters but we can still try to maintain a certain level of respectability, even in our current circumstances. Now go on over and tell Mr. Shannon to stop by about nine o’clock and we’ll walk over to the The Smiling Cat together.”
The evening at the Smiling Cat, while not a total disaster, was not one of Jack or Suzy’s better evenings playing cards. Suzy found herself much more distracted by Shannon and those blue eyes than she would have expected, so she missed her opponent’s tells on several crucial hands. This put more money in the hands of the other players than she and Jack normally allowed.
Jack seemed to be having his own problems tracking the cards being played and without Suzy’s signals at the proper time, he lost some hands he should have won.
Shannon, on the other hand, was having a fine night. He wasn’t as distracted by Suzy as she was by him and he had long ago trained himself to show few tells that his opponents could pick up. That, coupled with the fact that he, also, could deal cards from anywhere in the deck virtually undetected made his evening quite a lucrative one.
Generally, Jack and Suzy would play until midnight or so. But tonight, Suzy called it quits shortly after eleven, when the table took a break. She and Jack normally arrived and left separately, so as to maintain the facade of mere acquaintances. They always agreed before hand where they would meet up when they left and Suzy was waiting in front of the Brickhouse Bar when Jack strolled up with Shannon. Suzy hadn’t expected Shannon to leave the game since he was doing so well, much less come with Jack to meet her. It also surprised her when Shannon offered to buy them a drink as a consolation for their rough evening.
They found an out of the way corner table in the Brickhouse and ordered their drinks. Shannon and Jack both found they had a taste for cheap wine and Suzy surprised Shannon by ordering a glass of their best whiskey straight up. As they drank, the talk turned to the night’s game.
“You both seemed to be a mite upset at how the cards fell tonight,” Shannon said, not offering any hint of his contribution to their problem, “Everybody has an off night now and again.”
“We don’t,” Jack said flatly, “Not how we play.”
Suzy kicked him under the table. She wasn’t ready to be sharing their particular Bluff strategies with Shannon quite yet, but it looked like she wasn’t being given any choice in the matter, as Jack went on.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’d be dealin’ crooked? I woulda worked with ya, if I’d a’known you were pullin’ ‘em out at your leisure. It took me most the night to figure out it was you that was messin’ me up.”
Shannon was taken aback. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had caught onto how he was dealing. He’d gotten caught quite a bit at first, of course, until he had practiced on his fellow deck hands and refined his technique but that had been back before the war when he was working deckhand on various riverboats up and down the Mississippi, watching the gamblers at night.
“Well. . .uh. . .I. . .I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jack,” Shannon said , trying to bluff his way out of it.
“Oh, come on, now, Shannon,” Jack cajoled. “I could tell, once I started looking for it. Back when ol' Henry was teaching Suzy and me to play, he also taught us how to spot cheaters. You was dealing them cards from the top, bottom and middle.”
Shannon had the good grace to blush lightly. “Well, why didn’t you turn me in? I was winning and you weren’t.”
“You came in on my introduction, Shannon. It wouldn’t looked too good, if I’d called you out after bringing you in. Them fellers would’ve beat the hell outta both of us, if we were lucky. Besides, why didn’t you turn me and Suzy in after you realized what we were up to?”
“I have no love for lawmen. Most of ‘em are dirtier than the folks they’re locking up. I have to say, I was impressed that two kids that had grown up with everything being done for them had adapted so well to life on the shadier side of the street. What made you stray from the good path?”
“We got some experience on the shadier side, as you call it, before the war,” Suzy cut in. “We were helping slaves escape North whenever we could. Jack and I didn’t abide keeping and owing other human beings. It didn’t seem right, seeing as how this country was founded on the principle that all men were supposed to be created equal and entitled to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Once I got old enough and figured out what was going on, I decided to do what I could to see that those that wanted to flee had the opportunity. Jack made the same decision as me when he got to be of an age, as well. So we learned to lie and sneak around in service of others. We decided it was time
to lie and sneak in service of ourselves for a change. ‘Specially since we don’t have what you’d call any useful skills.”
“But you owned slaves,” Shannon replied. “How’d you reconcile that?”
“Those were are Daddy’s slaves, not ours,” Suzy explained. “We had no choice about that. But we treated everyone with respect and when we could, we helped more than a few disappear. Daddy was always fuming about his ‘ungrateful’ slaves running off from him, but we were very careful. Not only did nobody we helped ever get caught, but nobody, not even Daddy, suspected it was us that was helping,” she finished with a laugh.
“So who was this ole Henry that taught y’all to play cards and catch cheaters?”
“Oh, that was Daddy’s old waiting man and our mammy’s husband. He started off just showing us how to play to keep us amused, but we both kinda showed a talent for it, so’s he started teaching us more serious like when we got a little older. I seem to have a knack for catching people in a bluff or know when they’re holding a pretty good hand. Jack here has learned how to shuffle and deal pretty much any card he wants out of the deck. Between the two of us, we’ve managed to sort out some signals for each other that improve our chances of winning the hand.”
“I see,” Shannon said thoughtfully, scratching his chin, “I was debating whether I was gonna say anything to the both of you about this, but I reckon I will. I think if we work together, we could take it all.”
“What are you talking about?” Jack asked.
“The reason I got off in St. Louis and quit the riverboat gambling is to go and try my hand at this here big Bluff tournament in Independence, Kansas. Grand prize is a hundred gold dollars plus winner take all. Cost ten gold to buy in. I was gonna win my stake here in St. Louis before I head out. We’ll need to leave in five days if we want to make it in time.”
“I’m in,” Jack said immediately. “We’ll need to work out our signals with each other, so we can nail it. Are there other prizes?”
“Second spot gets fifty dollars. And of course, depending on the number of players, the winner gets the pot. Not a bad return on your money.”
“We’ll have to talk about it. Twenty is almost half of what we’ve saved to head west on,” Suzy said.
“Uh, well. . . yeah. . .about that. . .You’ll only need to come up with ten. Apparently, the man that’s running the thing got a problem with women playing cards. He don’t mind ‘em hanging about with their men and such, but he ain’t allowing no women nor coloreds to buy into the game.”
Suzy looked away annoyed. She had been ready to cast her lot in with Shannon to see if they could sweep the game, but not being allowed to play made her want to skip it. She had gotten pretty used to being able to do as she pleased. Jack was willing to follow her lead on most things and they didn’t have anyone else trying to run their life for a change. Having someone tell her she couldn’t do something because she was a woman had always chafed and her new-found freedom had only increased that feeling.
“I’m sorry, Suzy,” Jack said softly. “I know hearing that makes you angry, but you would still be able to hang around the table and signal me and Shannon. It might even work better, ‘cause you could concentrate on the looking and not worry about the playing. Whatta you say, Sissy? Come on and do it with us.”
“I’m going to have to think about this,” Suzy said slowly. “We’ll talk again in the morning. Right now, I’m tired. Would you two gentlemen mind to walk me home?”
“Well, he’s already done that by spying on us for days. It’s either that or we keep looking over our shoulders wondering what he’s gonna pull. ‘Cause I know he’s gonna pull something on us. I can feel it, Jack. And anyway, I was gonna wait till a bit later to bring this up, but we’re gonna have to think about moving on soon, anyway.”
“What’er you talkin’ about? Movin’ on? Movin’ on to where? Why? We gotta a pretty good thing going on here, Sissy, why should we leave?”
Suzy sighed. Sometimes she forgot how naive Jack still was, even with all the conning people out of their money they did every day. Patiently, she explained, “That’s just it, Jack, we’ve about milked this cow dry. We can’t keep working the same areas, even in different guises. We risk one of our former pigeons overhearing us or recognizing us and exposing us. We really need to stop everything but Bluff playing, especially now that Shannon is onto us. We can rely on the Bluff games for a while, but we only cover expenses with those most weeks. If Shannon plays along with us, we’ll have to let him have his share of the pots as well or he may expose us. Now why don’t you run over to his place and invite him to come along with us?”
“Why don’t you?” Jack sulked. He always hated it when his sister was right and he knew she was right about this.
“Now Jack, you know it wouldn’t be proper for me to go running across to Mr. O’Dell’s room. We may be grifters but we can still try to maintain a certain level of respectability, even in our current circumstances. Now go on over and tell Mr. Shannon to stop by about nine o’clock and we’ll walk over to the The Smiling Cat together.”
The evening at the Smiling Cat, while not a total disaster, was not one of Jack or Suzy’s better evenings playing cards. Suzy found herself much more distracted by Shannon and those blue eyes than she would have expected, so she missed her opponent’s tells on several crucial hands. This put more money in the hands of the other players than she and Jack normally allowed.
Jack seemed to be having his own problems tracking the cards being played and without Suzy’s signals at the proper time, he lost some hands he should have won.
Shannon, on the other hand, was having a fine night. He wasn’t as distracted by Suzy as she was by him and he had long ago trained himself to show few tells that his opponents could pick up. That, coupled with the fact that he, also, could deal cards from anywhere in the deck virtually undetected made his evening quite a lucrative one.
Generally, Jack and Suzy would play until midnight or so. But tonight, Suzy called it quits shortly after eleven, when the table took a break. She and Jack normally arrived and left separately, so as to maintain the facade of mere acquaintances. They always agreed before hand where they would meet up when they left and Suzy was waiting in front of the Brickhouse Bar when Jack strolled up with Shannon. Suzy hadn’t expected Shannon to leave the game since he was doing so well, much less come with Jack to meet her. It also surprised her when Shannon offered to buy them a drink as a consolation for their rough evening.
They found an out of the way corner table in the Brickhouse and ordered their drinks. Shannon and Jack both found they had a taste for cheap wine and Suzy surprised Shannon by ordering a glass of their best whiskey straight up. As they drank, the talk turned to the night’s game.
“You both seemed to be a mite upset at how the cards fell tonight,” Shannon said, not offering any hint of his contribution to their problem, “Everybody has an off night now and again.”
“We don’t,” Jack said flatly, “Not how we play.”
Suzy kicked him under the table. She wasn’t ready to be sharing their particular Bluff strategies with Shannon quite yet, but it looked like she wasn’t being given any choice in the matter, as Jack went on.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’d be dealin’ crooked? I woulda worked with ya, if I’d a’known you were pullin’ ‘em out at your leisure. It took me most the night to figure out it was you that was messin’ me up.”
Shannon was taken aback. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had caught onto how he was dealing. He’d gotten caught quite a bit at first, of course, until he had practiced on his fellow deck hands and refined his technique but that had been back before the war when he was working deckhand on various riverboats up and down the Mississippi, watching the gamblers at night.
“Well. . .uh. . .I. . .I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jack,” Shannon said , trying to bluff his way out of it.
“Oh, come on, now, Shannon,” Jack cajoled. “I could tell, once I started looking for it. Back when ol' Henry was teaching Suzy and me to play, he also taught us how to spot cheaters. You was dealing them cards from the top, bottom and middle.”
Shannon had the good grace to blush lightly. “Well, why didn’t you turn me in? I was winning and you weren’t.”
“You came in on my introduction, Shannon. It wouldn’t looked too good, if I’d called you out after bringing you in. Them fellers would’ve beat the hell outta both of us, if we were lucky. Besides, why didn’t you turn me and Suzy in after you realized what we were up to?”
“I have no love for lawmen. Most of ‘em are dirtier than the folks they’re locking up. I have to say, I was impressed that two kids that had grown up with everything being done for them had adapted so well to life on the shadier side of the street. What made you stray from the good path?”
“We got some experience on the shadier side, as you call it, before the war,” Suzy cut in. “We were helping slaves escape North whenever we could. Jack and I didn’t abide keeping and owing other human beings. It didn’t seem right, seeing as how this country was founded on the principle that all men were supposed to be created equal and entitled to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Once I got old enough and figured out what was going on, I decided to do what I could to see that those that wanted to flee had the opportunity. Jack made the same decision as me when he got to be of an age, as well. So we learned to lie and sneak around in service of others. We decided it was time
to lie and sneak in service of ourselves for a change. ‘Specially since we don’t have what you’d call any useful skills.”
“But you owned slaves,” Shannon replied. “How’d you reconcile that?”
“Those were are Daddy’s slaves, not ours,” Suzy explained. “We had no choice about that. But we treated everyone with respect and when we could, we helped more than a few disappear. Daddy was always fuming about his ‘ungrateful’ slaves running off from him, but we were very careful. Not only did nobody we helped ever get caught, but nobody, not even Daddy, suspected it was us that was helping,” she finished with a laugh.
“So who was this ole Henry that taught y’all to play cards and catch cheaters?”
“Oh, that was Daddy’s old waiting man and our mammy’s husband. He started off just showing us how to play to keep us amused, but we both kinda showed a talent for it, so’s he started teaching us more serious like when we got a little older. I seem to have a knack for catching people in a bluff or know when they’re holding a pretty good hand. Jack here has learned how to shuffle and deal pretty much any card he wants out of the deck. Between the two of us, we’ve managed to sort out some signals for each other that improve our chances of winning the hand.”
“I see,” Shannon said thoughtfully, scratching his chin, “I was debating whether I was gonna say anything to the both of you about this, but I reckon I will. I think if we work together, we could take it all.”
“What are you talking about?” Jack asked.
“The reason I got off in St. Louis and quit the riverboat gambling is to go and try my hand at this here big Bluff tournament in Independence, Kansas. Grand prize is a hundred gold dollars plus winner take all. Cost ten gold to buy in. I was gonna win my stake here in St. Louis before I head out. We’ll need to leave in five days if we want to make it in time.”
“I’m in,” Jack said immediately. “We’ll need to work out our signals with each other, so we can nail it. Are there other prizes?”
“Second spot gets fifty dollars. And of course, depending on the number of players, the winner gets the pot. Not a bad return on your money.”
“We’ll have to talk about it. Twenty is almost half of what we’ve saved to head west on,” Suzy said.
“Uh, well. . . yeah. . .about that. . .You’ll only need to come up with ten. Apparently, the man that’s running the thing got a problem with women playing cards. He don’t mind ‘em hanging about with their men and such, but he ain’t allowing no women nor coloreds to buy into the game.”
Suzy looked away annoyed. She had been ready to cast her lot in with Shannon to see if they could sweep the game, but not being allowed to play made her want to skip it. She had gotten pretty used to being able to do as she pleased. Jack was willing to follow her lead on most things and they didn’t have anyone else trying to run their life for a change. Having someone tell her she couldn’t do something because she was a woman had always chafed and her new-found freedom had only increased that feeling.
“I’m sorry, Suzy,” Jack said softly. “I know hearing that makes you angry, but you would still be able to hang around the table and signal me and Shannon. It might even work better, ‘cause you could concentrate on the looking and not worry about the playing. Whatta you say, Sissy? Come on and do it with us.”
“I’m going to have to think about this,” Suzy said slowly. “We’ll talk again in the morning. Right now, I’m tired. Would you two gentlemen mind to walk me home?”
Monday, March 5, 2007
Ain't no Winners in This Game - pt 2
Shannon had been watching the fair and beautiful Suzy for several days. He first ran across her and her companion as they collected for Civil War widows and orphans as he arrived off a riverboat up from Memphis. He was initially drawn in by her familiarity but couldn’t place where he had seen her before. He hung around the waterfront, discreetly mingling with the bustling crowd, until Suzy and the man with her packed it up for the day. He followed them at a safe distance as they made their way across St. Louis to a more worn-out area than their clothing would have suggested they lived. He watched as they entered a large, ramshackle house and waited until he saw lanterns lit in the upstairs rooms. He then strode across the street to inquire about the room they had for rent.
After following Suzy and Jack around St. Louis for several days watching them operate their different swindles on the unsuspecting populace, he finally saw Suzy without any of her disguises. It instantly clicked, she was the young woman from the farm his regiment had spent two days camped near sometime in the second year of the war. He remembered a young boy there, too, and wondered if the young man with her was the same boy.
He also remembered playing a little Bluff with her, the boy and some of the other men from his regiment. He and the other men got quite tight on some homemade whiskey the girl had brought out. After that things got real fuzzy. He does remember, however, that for the next several days after they left the farm things went very badly for them. It was as if those damn bluecoats had known exactly where they were and what they were going to do. He wondered if somehow the girl had been involved in that. But that was over and done with. Now, he just wanted to figure out if he could somehow turn some of their rackets to his benefit. He also needed to remember her name.
For several days, Suzy had noticed the same man hanging around wherever she and Jack ended up working that day’s game. It was beginning to unnerve her, not only because she was constantly seeing him, but she had the feeling that she knew him from somewhere. It was his eyes. He had the bluest eyes she had ever seen and she was sure she had seen them somewhere before. One afternoon as they were winding up that day’s work in peddling fake mining shares, she asked Jack, “Have you noticed that feller over there, Jack? I’ve seen him hanging ‘round now for several days. Do you recognize him?”
Jack looked in Shannon’s direction and squinted, “Yeah, I’ve noticed him, too. He’s starting to make me a little nervous. Hope he’s not the law. But, naw, he don’t look familiar to me. Uh-oh, here he comes.”
Shannon, realizing his stalking had finally been noticed, sauntered over to Jack and Suzy. He still couldn’t remember their names but he had recalled that their daddy had been referred to as “Massa Clay” by the old colored man that had still been living on the farm. “Miss Clay, Mr. Clay,” he said, taking a chance that it was the brother, “what a surprise to run into you here. I’m sure you were wondering who I was just hanging around for several days, but I was only trying to remember where I knew you from and your names. I only just this moment, recalled the where and the who. Since I know no one in St. Louis, I was hoping to introduce myself to some familiar faces. My name is Shannon O’Dell. My regiment stayed near your farm during the war and you and your father were most kind to all of us. How is your father?”
Suzy, who had been prepared to assert that he was mistaken, suddenly remembered the face surrounding those blue eyes. She remembered him through the firelight as they had played Bluff that night. He always seemed to be staring at her whenever she looked his way. Staring intently, that is, until the liquor started to take effect and those blue eyes started to glaze. Between the whiskey and the infusion of Mammy’s hemp resin tea that Suzy added to the whiskey, the men playing cards became very relaxed and talkative. With proper, yet subtle, questioning and deference on Suzy’s part, she managed to draw out the entire regiment’s movements and plans for the next several weeks. That had ended up getting the farm some much needed food and supplies from the Union regiment that came through only a few days later.
So she guessed she’d better own up and she and Jack could sort out later what the implications of Shannon’s arrival on the scene might be. “Well, how do you do, Mr. O’Dell, surrah? I do remember you at our farm. That was a fine game of Bluff we played that evening. Do you remember my brother, Jack?”
“I wondered if this was the young lad all growed up. . .and please, call me Shannon. I must confess, however, that I have forgotten your first name.”
“It was Suzanna, but I go by Suzy now. And I’m using my mother’s name now,
Prescott. Jack is now Jack Straw. When we decided to leave everything behind, that included the Clay family name.”
“I imagine yer Daddy wern’t pleased to hear that.”
“Our father was killed by a Union soldier not too long after your regiment passed through,” Suzy replied.
“My condolences, Miss Clay, um, uh, Miss Prescott. How difficult that must have made everything for you.”
“We managed to get by, but after the war ended, we didn’t really feel like staying in the area. It took us a while to plan it, but we decided to come to St. Louis and see if we wanted to stay here or move on west. We really need to be getting back to our room now to freshen up for the evening. It was nice to make your acquaintance again, Mr. O’Dell. I’m sure we’ll be seeing you again.” Suzy said, not with complete dread.
“Oh, I’ll just walk along with y’all. It just so happens while I was trying to figure out where I knew you from, I followed you back to your rooms and happened upon the house across the street with a room they were willing to let to me. Very fortunate, I’d say.”
A little too fortunate, Suzy thought nervously.
Later, in their rooms, Suzy and Jack discussed this disquieting turn of events.
“It was bound to happen,” Jack said. “Somebody who recognized one of us was bound to come through St. Louis sooner or later. I’m just glad it wasn’t one of them righteous Manchester busybodies who’d want to ask all kinds of questions about what we were doing here.”
Suzy frowned. “Not that I’m complaining, but don’t you think it odd, that Shannon followed us around for three or four days and never turned us in to the law. He didn’t hide himself to us when we was working our marks, but I sure didn’t notice him when he followed us. He had to know we were pulling scams right from the start. He saw us in our disguises. That worries me mightly. He’s up to something. We need to watch him very carefully. And,” she paused, “you’re not going to like this, but I think the best way to keep an eye on him is to invite him to join us tonight at the card game. We need to get to know Mr. O’Dell a little better.”
“You’re right. I don’t like that one damn bit. We’ve got a pretty good scheme going here and we’ve been getting along just fine by ourselves. Why you want’en to bring anyone else close in to us?”
“Well, he’s already done that by spying on us for days. It’s either that or we keep looking over our shoulders wondering what he’s gonna pull. ‘Cause I know he’s gonna pull something on us. I can feel it, Jack. And anyway, I was gonna wait till a bit later to bring this up, but we’re gonna have to think about moving on soon, anyway.”
“What’er you talkin’ about? Movin’ on? Movin’ on to where? Why? We gotta a pretty good thing going on here, Sissy, why should we leave?”
Suzy sighed. Sometimes she forgot how naive Jack still was, even with all the conning people out of their money they did every day. Patiently, she explained, “That’s just it, Jack, we’ve about milked this cow dry. We can’t keep working the same areas, even in different guises. We risk one of our former pigeons overhearing us or recognizing us and exposing us. We really need to stop everything but Bluff playing, especially now that Shannon is onto us. We can rely on the Bluff games for a while, but we only cover expenses with those most weeks. If Shannon plays along with us, we’ll have to let him have his share of the pots as well or he may expose us. Now why don’t you run over to his place and invite him to come along with us?”
“Why don’t you?” Jack sulked. He always hated it when his sister was right and he knew she was right about this.
“Now Jack, you know it wouldn’t be proper for me to go running across to Mr. O’Dell’s room. We may be grifters but we can still try to maintain a certain level of respectability, even in our current circumstances. Now go on over and tell Mr. Shannon to stop by about nine o’clock and we’ll walk over to the The Smiling Cat together.”
After following Suzy and Jack around St. Louis for several days watching them operate their different swindles on the unsuspecting populace, he finally saw Suzy without any of her disguises. It instantly clicked, she was the young woman from the farm his regiment had spent two days camped near sometime in the second year of the war. He remembered a young boy there, too, and wondered if the young man with her was the same boy.
He also remembered playing a little Bluff with her, the boy and some of the other men from his regiment. He and the other men got quite tight on some homemade whiskey the girl had brought out. After that things got real fuzzy. He does remember, however, that for the next several days after they left the farm things went very badly for them. It was as if those damn bluecoats had known exactly where they were and what they were going to do. He wondered if somehow the girl had been involved in that. But that was over and done with. Now, he just wanted to figure out if he could somehow turn some of their rackets to his benefit. He also needed to remember her name.
For several days, Suzy had noticed the same man hanging around wherever she and Jack ended up working that day’s game. It was beginning to unnerve her, not only because she was constantly seeing him, but she had the feeling that she knew him from somewhere. It was his eyes. He had the bluest eyes she had ever seen and she was sure she had seen them somewhere before. One afternoon as they were winding up that day’s work in peddling fake mining shares, she asked Jack, “Have you noticed that feller over there, Jack? I’ve seen him hanging ‘round now for several days. Do you recognize him?”
Jack looked in Shannon’s direction and squinted, “Yeah, I’ve noticed him, too. He’s starting to make me a little nervous. Hope he’s not the law. But, naw, he don’t look familiar to me. Uh-oh, here he comes.”
Shannon, realizing his stalking had finally been noticed, sauntered over to Jack and Suzy. He still couldn’t remember their names but he had recalled that their daddy had been referred to as “Massa Clay” by the old colored man that had still been living on the farm. “Miss Clay, Mr. Clay,” he said, taking a chance that it was the brother, “what a surprise to run into you here. I’m sure you were wondering who I was just hanging around for several days, but I was only trying to remember where I knew you from and your names. I only just this moment, recalled the where and the who. Since I know no one in St. Louis, I was hoping to introduce myself to some familiar faces. My name is Shannon O’Dell. My regiment stayed near your farm during the war and you and your father were most kind to all of us. How is your father?”
Suzy, who had been prepared to assert that he was mistaken, suddenly remembered the face surrounding those blue eyes. She remembered him through the firelight as they had played Bluff that night. He always seemed to be staring at her whenever she looked his way. Staring intently, that is, until the liquor started to take effect and those blue eyes started to glaze. Between the whiskey and the infusion of Mammy’s hemp resin tea that Suzy added to the whiskey, the men playing cards became very relaxed and talkative. With proper, yet subtle, questioning and deference on Suzy’s part, she managed to draw out the entire regiment’s movements and plans for the next several weeks. That had ended up getting the farm some much needed food and supplies from the Union regiment that came through only a few days later.
So she guessed she’d better own up and she and Jack could sort out later what the implications of Shannon’s arrival on the scene might be. “Well, how do you do, Mr. O’Dell, surrah? I do remember you at our farm. That was a fine game of Bluff we played that evening. Do you remember my brother, Jack?”
“I wondered if this was the young lad all growed up. . .and please, call me Shannon. I must confess, however, that I have forgotten your first name.”
“It was Suzanna, but I go by Suzy now. And I’m using my mother’s name now,
Prescott. Jack is now Jack Straw. When we decided to leave everything behind, that included the Clay family name.”
“I imagine yer Daddy wern’t pleased to hear that.”
“Our father was killed by a Union soldier not too long after your regiment passed through,” Suzy replied.
“My condolences, Miss Clay, um, uh, Miss Prescott. How difficult that must have made everything for you.”
“We managed to get by, but after the war ended, we didn’t really feel like staying in the area. It took us a while to plan it, but we decided to come to St. Louis and see if we wanted to stay here or move on west. We really need to be getting back to our room now to freshen up for the evening. It was nice to make your acquaintance again, Mr. O’Dell. I’m sure we’ll be seeing you again.” Suzy said, not with complete dread.
“Oh, I’ll just walk along with y’all. It just so happens while I was trying to figure out where I knew you from, I followed you back to your rooms and happened upon the house across the street with a room they were willing to let to me. Very fortunate, I’d say.”
A little too fortunate, Suzy thought nervously.
Later, in their rooms, Suzy and Jack discussed this disquieting turn of events.
“It was bound to happen,” Jack said. “Somebody who recognized one of us was bound to come through St. Louis sooner or later. I’m just glad it wasn’t one of them righteous Manchester busybodies who’d want to ask all kinds of questions about what we were doing here.”
Suzy frowned. “Not that I’m complaining, but don’t you think it odd, that Shannon followed us around for three or four days and never turned us in to the law. He didn’t hide himself to us when we was working our marks, but I sure didn’t notice him when he followed us. He had to know we were pulling scams right from the start. He saw us in our disguises. That worries me mightly. He’s up to something. We need to watch him very carefully. And,” she paused, “you’re not going to like this, but I think the best way to keep an eye on him is to invite him to join us tonight at the card game. We need to get to know Mr. O’Dell a little better.”
“You’re right. I don’t like that one damn bit. We’ve got a pretty good scheme going here and we’ve been getting along just fine by ourselves. Why you want’en to bring anyone else close in to us?”
“Well, he’s already done that by spying on us for days. It’s either that or we keep looking over our shoulders wondering what he’s gonna pull. ‘Cause I know he’s gonna pull something on us. I can feel it, Jack. And anyway, I was gonna wait till a bit later to bring this up, but we’re gonna have to think about moving on soon, anyway.”
“What’er you talkin’ about? Movin’ on? Movin’ on to where? Why? We gotta a pretty good thing going on here, Sissy, why should we leave?”
Suzy sighed. Sometimes she forgot how naive Jack still was, even with all the conning people out of their money they did every day. Patiently, she explained, “That’s just it, Jack, we’ve about milked this cow dry. We can’t keep working the same areas, even in different guises. We risk one of our former pigeons overhearing us or recognizing us and exposing us. We really need to stop everything but Bluff playing, especially now that Shannon is onto us. We can rely on the Bluff games for a while, but we only cover expenses with those most weeks. If Shannon plays along with us, we’ll have to let him have his share of the pots as well or he may expose us. Now why don’t you run over to his place and invite him to come along with us?”
“Why don’t you?” Jack sulked. He always hated it when his sister was right and he knew she was right about this.
“Now Jack, you know it wouldn’t be proper for me to go running across to Mr. O’Dell’s room. We may be grifters but we can still try to maintain a certain level of respectability, even in our current circumstances. Now go on over and tell Mr. Shannon to stop by about nine o’clock and we’ll walk over to the The Smiling Cat together.”
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Ain't No Winners in this Game - part 1
Suzanna Prescott Clay couldn’t sleep. At least, the woman who used to be Suzanna Clay couldn’t sleep.
She was Suzy Prescott now, she had to remind herself. She and her brother, who lay snoring gently beside her in the loft of the barn, had decided to change their names almost immediately after they left Manchester, Tennessee that morning. As they left the familiar land where they had lived all their lives, her brother, Jackson Lee Clay, suddenly announced, “Suzanna, everything is changing. We need to change our names, too. I think, from now on, my name’s Jack Straw.”
While the area and most of it’s people were nothing to them now, Suzanna was unwilling to sever every tie and so, to honor their dead mother, Suzanna Clay became plain Suzy Prescott.
They decided to leave Manchester after it came out they had been secret abolitionists helping local slaves escape to the North before the war. They might have been able to stick around in the community until people forgot that fact but the other thing that became known around the same time they weren’t sure they could survive, literally. That was the fact that they had assisted the Union forces against the Confederacy during the Recent Unpleasantness.
Suzy suspected it was more than coincidence that both of these secrets came to light about the same time that she had finally, and at the point of a gun, desuaded Virgil Cooper of the idea that she was going to be his wife. She had no idea how he’d managed to find out about the latter, but he might very well have put two and two together and figured out the former. After all, Suzy had helped many of Virgil’s slaves escape over the years.
Unbeknownst to Suzy, her and Jack’s daddy had promised her to Virgil before he joined the Confederate army. Once he returned and tried to collect his bride, he was quite put out that Suzy refused to have anything to do with him. At first, she politely tried to ignore him, but Virgil was never a man to take to being ignored. He eventually got so worked up over Suzy refusing his attentions, he tried to take her to his place by force. That’s when Suzy had to convince Virgil once and for all that he needed to get that idea out of his head. He swore he’d make her sorry she’d refused him. And now they were forced to leave the only home they had ever known, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing how upset she was.
Suzy had known Virgil since they were children and had always disliked him. He had always been arrogant and rude to anyone he felt was beneath him and that included Suzy and Jack. He was a cruel child and grew up to be a cruel master to his slaves. He treated them worse than his animals and that wasn’t saying much. Unfortunately, even though he acted scornful and superior toward Suzy, he had also fancied her from the time they were young adolescents. Suzy could only imagine why her daddy had promised her hand to him. except that William Clay probably saw something in it for himself and had never cared what Suzy thought, but Daddy was dead now and there was no way Suzy was going to become that insufferable prick’s wife.
In some ways it did not surprise Suzy that her daddy had done to her what he did. He had always liked Virgil and, unlike most, Virgil had never shown William Clay anything but respect. It was also true Daddy Clay could be as arrogant as any man alive. In fact, his arrogance had finally gotten him killed when he refused to give his best Tennessee Walker to a Union officer whose horse had
gone lame. The officer shot William Clay, apologized to Suzy and Jack, but took the horse anyway.
Admittedly, Suzy and Jack were more shocked than sad at the death of their father. William Clay treated his slaves humanely but still thought of them as property. He only treated Suzy and Jack marginally better and thought of them as his property as well. He believed completely in the succession and had he not been too old when the war started, he would have joined up.
As soon as Daddy Clay was in the ground with Suzy and Jack named as heirs to all the property, they gave all the slaves still on the farm their freedom. Even with that, all their older slaves chose to stay with Jack and Suzy. With ol' Massa Clay gone, they knew Suzy and Jack would treat them well and keep them safe from those who would resent their freedom. The few young men that Suzy hadn’t already helped escape decided to go North and try and join the Union forces.
Suzy and Jack, once he was old enough to be trusted, had, for a number of years, helped any slave in the area who wanted to, to run away. No one ever suspected anything because of the Clay family’s prominence in the community of Manchester.
Once the news got out about the Underground Railroad work and the spying, Jack and Suzy decided pretty quickly to leave. The last piece of business they had to attend to was signing over all two-hundred acres of their farm to their mammy and her husband, Henry, who had been slaves of their daddy since they were young. That was the final slap in the face to all the fine, upstanding citizens of Manchester that were now treating Jack and Suzy like so much manure on their shoe. It gave them both a particularly satisfied feeling to do that for Mammy and Henry and do it to their former friends and neighbors.
Suzy suggested Henry and Mammy, whose name she finally learned was Hannah, ask some of the newly freed slave families to come and live on the land and sharecrop. It would help Henry and Mammy manage the land and also provide for a number of people to be around in case their was trouble. And Suzy warned Henry as they left to expect trouble.
Suzy lay in the dark of the barn and smelled the sweet straw as she thought about all that had transpired over the last year. She wondered where she and Jack should go now and what they should do. She finally fell asleep with all this on her mind and it seemed like no time before Jack was shaking her awake.
“The cows are starting to stir around, Suzy. I think it might be getting toward daylight.”
Sure enough, when they peeked out the barn window, there was the faintest glow in the East. Fortunately, no light shown at the house yet. They quietly saddled their horses, filled a bag they found with sweet oats for the horses’ breakfast later and walked off, leading their horses toward the road they had been on last night.
After they had been riding for an hour or so, they found a quiet place in the trees where a stream passed through. There they stopped to let the horses rest and feed while they ate some of the delicious biscuits and jam that was part of the huge hamper of food Mammy prepared for them. They tried to tell her she needed to hang onto as much food as she could until the crops started to come in later in the summer, but Mammy wouldn’t hear of letting Jack and Suzy go off into the unknown without knowing how they would eat.
Suzy finally brought up the subject that had been dwelling in her mind since they got free of Manchester, “Where we gonna go, Jack? What’re we going to do? Our $300 will hold us for awhile but we need a plan.”
“Well, I’ve been thinking about that, Suzy. I think we should go to St. Louis. It’ll take us a while to get there but I think we could earn us some money, save up and head out West.”
“How, Jack? You and I don’t have any real skills. I suspect our Southern gentility and manners won’t exactly be in high demand as job skills go.”
“Depends on what you’re talking about, Suzy. I didn’t say it had to be honest money. Look, you and I have been deceptive and sly since we were in our teens in the service of other people and causes we believed in. I think it’s about time we put some of that deceit and guile to work for our ownselves. It’ll take two and half, three weeks to get there. We’ll have plenty of time to come up with a plan.”
The three weeks it took Jack and Suzy to reach St. Louis passed quickly. Suzy remembered it as the last innocent period of both their lives, despite the occasional egg stealing and barn loft trespassing to escape the rain. Mostly, they slept out under the stars, taking time to hunt for dinner when they found a suitable spot and talked about the different ways they might go about supporting themselves when they reached St. Louis.
They agreed they should use several different means to separate people from their money. The primary way would, of course, be a widely played card game called Bluff, or as it was starting to be known; poker. Suzy and Jack learned how to play Bluff from Henry when they were young. They rapidly improved their skill with the game and used it as a means to gain information from the Grays and to barter that information for resources they needed from the Blues.
They became quite adept at both winning and losing when it served their purposes.
Once arrived in St. Louis, they quickly found an inexpensive set of rooms in an undistinguished part of town and started to work. One day they might set up at a busy corner in a well-to-do section of town and collect money for Civil War widows and orphans. The next day, Suzy would pose as the sister of a gold miner who had hit a rich vein, but needed cash in order to stake the claim and start mining operations. This was their most successful bit, as everyone wanted a chance to get in on the opportunity to own shares in a gold mine. They even had shares printed up, along with a fake map to the fake mine location. They didn't need to do this one too often, as it often netted them a month's worth of expense money for just one or two days work. That suited Suzy just fine. She thought it was too easy and found no challenge in the deception.
Along with the different frauds they were employing, they also started using a variety of identities and costuming. This made it much easier to work the same areas time and time again. Suzy liked being able to dress up and play different parts. Sometimes it was such a relief to be someone other than herself.
They played Bluff in various card parlors and saloons two or three times a week. At first, this was uncomfortable for Suzy. As a proper Southern lady, she had never ventured into one of these places, but as she kept telling herself, “You have done all sorts of things you never thought you could, this is just one more thing and it's for your survival this time.”
In playing Bluff, they each had their own strengths. Jack was excellent at being able to shuffle and deal any cards he wanted from the deck. When he was feeling full of himself, he would boast, “I can tell the Queen of Diamonds by the way she shines.” Suzy, on the other hand, could tell who was bluffing and who was holding a winning hand as if they were showing her their cards. They had also learned and agreed on certain subtle signals to pass each other information. They played carefully, each slowly building their bank, but not winning so often it raised suspicion. It was all going very well.
Until Shannon O'Dell came into their life.
She was Suzy Prescott now, she had to remind herself. She and her brother, who lay snoring gently beside her in the loft of the barn, had decided to change their names almost immediately after they left Manchester, Tennessee that morning. As they left the familiar land where they had lived all their lives, her brother, Jackson Lee Clay, suddenly announced, “Suzanna, everything is changing. We need to change our names, too. I think, from now on, my name’s Jack Straw.”
While the area and most of it’s people were nothing to them now, Suzanna was unwilling to sever every tie and so, to honor their dead mother, Suzanna Clay became plain Suzy Prescott.
They decided to leave Manchester after it came out they had been secret abolitionists helping local slaves escape to the North before the war. They might have been able to stick around in the community until people forgot that fact but the other thing that became known around the same time they weren’t sure they could survive, literally. That was the fact that they had assisted the Union forces against the Confederacy during the Recent Unpleasantness.
Suzy suspected it was more than coincidence that both of these secrets came to light about the same time that she had finally, and at the point of a gun, desuaded Virgil Cooper of the idea that she was going to be his wife. She had no idea how he’d managed to find out about the latter, but he might very well have put two and two together and figured out the former. After all, Suzy had helped many of Virgil’s slaves escape over the years.
Unbeknownst to Suzy, her and Jack’s daddy had promised her to Virgil before he joined the Confederate army. Once he returned and tried to collect his bride, he was quite put out that Suzy refused to have anything to do with him. At first, she politely tried to ignore him, but Virgil was never a man to take to being ignored. He eventually got so worked up over Suzy refusing his attentions, he tried to take her to his place by force. That’s when Suzy had to convince Virgil once and for all that he needed to get that idea out of his head. He swore he’d make her sorry she’d refused him. And now they were forced to leave the only home they had ever known, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing how upset she was.
Suzy had known Virgil since they were children and had always disliked him. He had always been arrogant and rude to anyone he felt was beneath him and that included Suzy and Jack. He was a cruel child and grew up to be a cruel master to his slaves. He treated them worse than his animals and that wasn’t saying much. Unfortunately, even though he acted scornful and superior toward Suzy, he had also fancied her from the time they were young adolescents. Suzy could only imagine why her daddy had promised her hand to him. except that William Clay probably saw something in it for himself and had never cared what Suzy thought, but Daddy was dead now and there was no way Suzy was going to become that insufferable prick’s wife.
In some ways it did not surprise Suzy that her daddy had done to her what he did. He had always liked Virgil and, unlike most, Virgil had never shown William Clay anything but respect. It was also true Daddy Clay could be as arrogant as any man alive. In fact, his arrogance had finally gotten him killed when he refused to give his best Tennessee Walker to a Union officer whose horse had
gone lame. The officer shot William Clay, apologized to Suzy and Jack, but took the horse anyway.
Admittedly, Suzy and Jack were more shocked than sad at the death of their father. William Clay treated his slaves humanely but still thought of them as property. He only treated Suzy and Jack marginally better and thought of them as his property as well. He believed completely in the succession and had he not been too old when the war started, he would have joined up.
As soon as Daddy Clay was in the ground with Suzy and Jack named as heirs to all the property, they gave all the slaves still on the farm their freedom. Even with that, all their older slaves chose to stay with Jack and Suzy. With ol' Massa Clay gone, they knew Suzy and Jack would treat them well and keep them safe from those who would resent their freedom. The few young men that Suzy hadn’t already helped escape decided to go North and try and join the Union forces.
Suzy and Jack, once he was old enough to be trusted, had, for a number of years, helped any slave in the area who wanted to, to run away. No one ever suspected anything because of the Clay family’s prominence in the community of Manchester.
Once the news got out about the Underground Railroad work and the spying, Jack and Suzy decided pretty quickly to leave. The last piece of business they had to attend to was signing over all two-hundred acres of their farm to their mammy and her husband, Henry, who had been slaves of their daddy since they were young. That was the final slap in the face to all the fine, upstanding citizens of Manchester that were now treating Jack and Suzy like so much manure on their shoe. It gave them both a particularly satisfied feeling to do that for Mammy and Henry and do it to their former friends and neighbors.
Suzy suggested Henry and Mammy, whose name she finally learned was Hannah, ask some of the newly freed slave families to come and live on the land and sharecrop. It would help Henry and Mammy manage the land and also provide for a number of people to be around in case their was trouble. And Suzy warned Henry as they left to expect trouble.
Suzy lay in the dark of the barn and smelled the sweet straw as she thought about all that had transpired over the last year. She wondered where she and Jack should go now and what they should do. She finally fell asleep with all this on her mind and it seemed like no time before Jack was shaking her awake.
“The cows are starting to stir around, Suzy. I think it might be getting toward daylight.”
Sure enough, when they peeked out the barn window, there was the faintest glow in the East. Fortunately, no light shown at the house yet. They quietly saddled their horses, filled a bag they found with sweet oats for the horses’ breakfast later and walked off, leading their horses toward the road they had been on last night.
After they had been riding for an hour or so, they found a quiet place in the trees where a stream passed through. There they stopped to let the horses rest and feed while they ate some of the delicious biscuits and jam that was part of the huge hamper of food Mammy prepared for them. They tried to tell her she needed to hang onto as much food as she could until the crops started to come in later in the summer, but Mammy wouldn’t hear of letting Jack and Suzy go off into the unknown without knowing how they would eat.
Suzy finally brought up the subject that had been dwelling in her mind since they got free of Manchester, “Where we gonna go, Jack? What’re we going to do? Our $300 will hold us for awhile but we need a plan.”
“Well, I’ve been thinking about that, Suzy. I think we should go to St. Louis. It’ll take us a while to get there but I think we could earn us some money, save up and head out West.”
“How, Jack? You and I don’t have any real skills. I suspect our Southern gentility and manners won’t exactly be in high demand as job skills go.”
“Depends on what you’re talking about, Suzy. I didn’t say it had to be honest money. Look, you and I have been deceptive and sly since we were in our teens in the service of other people and causes we believed in. I think it’s about time we put some of that deceit and guile to work for our ownselves. It’ll take two and half, three weeks to get there. We’ll have plenty of time to come up with a plan.”
The three weeks it took Jack and Suzy to reach St. Louis passed quickly. Suzy remembered it as the last innocent period of both their lives, despite the occasional egg stealing and barn loft trespassing to escape the rain. Mostly, they slept out under the stars, taking time to hunt for dinner when they found a suitable spot and talked about the different ways they might go about supporting themselves when they reached St. Louis.
They agreed they should use several different means to separate people from their money. The primary way would, of course, be a widely played card game called Bluff, or as it was starting to be known; poker. Suzy and Jack learned how to play Bluff from Henry when they were young. They rapidly improved their skill with the game and used it as a means to gain information from the Grays and to barter that information for resources they needed from the Blues.
They became quite adept at both winning and losing when it served their purposes.
Once arrived in St. Louis, they quickly found an inexpensive set of rooms in an undistinguished part of town and started to work. One day they might set up at a busy corner in a well-to-do section of town and collect money for Civil War widows and orphans. The next day, Suzy would pose as the sister of a gold miner who had hit a rich vein, but needed cash in order to stake the claim and start mining operations. This was their most successful bit, as everyone wanted a chance to get in on the opportunity to own shares in a gold mine. They even had shares printed up, along with a fake map to the fake mine location. They didn't need to do this one too often, as it often netted them a month's worth of expense money for just one or two days work. That suited Suzy just fine. She thought it was too easy and found no challenge in the deception.
Along with the different frauds they were employing, they also started using a variety of identities and costuming. This made it much easier to work the same areas time and time again. Suzy liked being able to dress up and play different parts. Sometimes it was such a relief to be someone other than herself.
They played Bluff in various card parlors and saloons two or three times a week. At first, this was uncomfortable for Suzy. As a proper Southern lady, she had never ventured into one of these places, but as she kept telling herself, “You have done all sorts of things you never thought you could, this is just one more thing and it's for your survival this time.”
In playing Bluff, they each had their own strengths. Jack was excellent at being able to shuffle and deal any cards he wanted from the deck. When he was feeling full of himself, he would boast, “I can tell the Queen of Diamonds by the way she shines.” Suzy, on the other hand, could tell who was bluffing and who was holding a winning hand as if they were showing her their cards. They had also learned and agreed on certain subtle signals to pass each other information. They played carefully, each slowly building their bank, but not winning so often it raised suspicion. It was all going very well.
Until Shannon O'Dell came into their life.
The Fugitive in American Culture - Intro
Like so much in my life, the Grateful Dead defined this project for me. It came from my deep love for their music and from my identity as a Deadhead. The idea to write back stories based on the lyrics of their music came to me almost fully developed shortly after the assignment was made.
Just as a story has a beginning, a middle and an end, I wanted to choose three songs to represent the beginning, middle and end of my story cycle.
Considering the conventional fugitive motif of someone running to escape, two songs from the Dead’s repertoire were immediately obvious, while the third one took some deliberation before being decided upon.
The clear choices were Jack Straw and Friend of the Devil. Both of these songs have distinct fugitive themes written around the idea of escape.
Jack Straw has two characters, who are traveling together. One, Shannon, is obviously the bad guy. We don’t know much about Jack’s moral character, except he’s not very happy about the actions of his traveling partner. The song is full of ambiguity. We don’t know why they are traveling together. We don’t know what score Shannon wants to go to Tulsa to even. We don’t know why he hides under cover of darkness. The song continues the ambiguity to the end. Does Jack cut his buddy down, as in kill him, or does he cut him down after he is killed? The story I chose to write answers some of these questions and raises a few more. In particular, I leave open the question of what Jack does and where he goes after he buries Shannon but before he shows up in Reno at the start of the third story.
Friend of the Devil is also a song full of ambiguity. We don’t really know why the character is being chased by the sheriff and twenty hounds. We don’t know much about the character at all, except the name of the woman he loves and that there were at least two other women in his past. One of whom has possibly had his child. In the story I chose to write, we know why he is being chased, but nothing else is made any clearer about the lost time between the end of the second story and the beginning of the third. It does, however, clear up and create an additional mystery lingering from the first story, which is the fate of his sister, Suzy.
The choice of the third song was a more difficult decision. Several good candidates were considered and discarded. In the end, I decided to go with Loser. While there is no obvious fugitive theme, the strong ambiguity of it is the tie that links it thematically to the other two songs.
This song is obviously about someone trying to wheedle a stake out of a woman named Suzy, so he or she can gamble with it, sure they will win at the game this time. Perhaps they have done well in the past. Perhaps they are overconfident of their true ability to win. In the end, we are left to wonder whether the person wins or loses. This song was open ended enough to develop a story that could be about anything as long as gambling was the theme.
I created the fugitive theme in this story by having the main characters work for the Underground Railroad and spy for the Union during the war. When the story opens, the war has ended, their activities have been revealed and they feel it’s no longer safe for them to continue to live in the community in which they grew up. So, they become fugitives running from their past.
Choosing which order to present the songs and their stories was also a difficult decision, because at this point I wasn’t sure about what I was going to write. Eventually, I decided that Friend of the Devil seemed to have more of an air of finality to it than the other two, while Loser, with it’s more wide-open
interpretation could serve as the beginning song for the stories as well as a natural lead-in to Jack Straw.
From the beginning, I knew that Jack from the song Jack Straw would be the character I would carry through the three stories. I felt the ambiguity of his role in the song allowed me a lot of flexibility to write his character.
I attempted to highlight the ambiguity in these songs within the stories because I think that ambiguity is a strong theme that runs through any fugitive tale. In the case of fugitive slaves, for instance, ambiguity defined their existence. Slaves were sold off away from their families or ran away. In either case, often never heard from again. If they worked for an erratic owner, they might not know from day to day whether their actions would cause them to be threatened, shipped or sold.
A fugitive of any sort has a measure of ambiguity in their lives. If they are doing something illegal or are on the run, will they be caught? Who can they trust? If they are simply living outside of the norms of the dominant culture, will they be allowed to live in peace or will they be harassed by other members of society? Who is it safe to confide in? Who can they turn to for help?
The use of gambling as a leitmotif throughout the stories also gave me another type of fugitive theme to work with - that of gamblers being outside the usual norms and values of the rest of society. It also serves to show that people are often not what they seem and a fugitive can be anyone and anyone can become a fugitive under the right circumstances.
A minor device I employed , unrelated to the fugitive theme, was the use of ten gold dollars and the twenty dollar bill to represent good and bad. Because money is mentioned in each of these songs, I decided at some point in the writing process to use the money as a symbol throughout all the stories. Ten gold dollars is always handled by Suzy, and is used in a positive or, at least, neutral way, while twenty dollars, especially a twenty dollar bill, is used by Shannon, usually giving it to Jack. The scene at the end of the first story where Jack takes the twenty from Shannon and gives it to Suzy serves as a metaphor to sever the essential goodness of Jack and the tie between Jack and Suzy, in order to taint Jack with, and tie him to, Shannon’s corrupt nature. The use of twenty’s also serves to set Shannon up to represent the devil in the last story, while establishing Jack as the friend of the devil.
Just as a story has a beginning, a middle and an end, I wanted to choose three songs to represent the beginning, middle and end of my story cycle.
Considering the conventional fugitive motif of someone running to escape, two songs from the Dead’s repertoire were immediately obvious, while the third one took some deliberation before being decided upon.
The clear choices were Jack Straw and Friend of the Devil. Both of these songs have distinct fugitive themes written around the idea of escape.
Jack Straw has two characters, who are traveling together. One, Shannon, is obviously the bad guy. We don’t know much about Jack’s moral character, except he’s not very happy about the actions of his traveling partner. The song is full of ambiguity. We don’t know why they are traveling together. We don’t know what score Shannon wants to go to Tulsa to even. We don’t know why he hides under cover of darkness. The song continues the ambiguity to the end. Does Jack cut his buddy down, as in kill him, or does he cut him down after he is killed? The story I chose to write answers some of these questions and raises a few more. In particular, I leave open the question of what Jack does and where he goes after he buries Shannon but before he shows up in Reno at the start of the third story.
Friend of the Devil is also a song full of ambiguity. We don’t really know why the character is being chased by the sheriff and twenty hounds. We don’t know much about the character at all, except the name of the woman he loves and that there were at least two other women in his past. One of whom has possibly had his child. In the story I chose to write, we know why he is being chased, but nothing else is made any clearer about the lost time between the end of the second story and the beginning of the third. It does, however, clear up and create an additional mystery lingering from the first story, which is the fate of his sister, Suzy.
The choice of the third song was a more difficult decision. Several good candidates were considered and discarded. In the end, I decided to go with Loser. While there is no obvious fugitive theme, the strong ambiguity of it is the tie that links it thematically to the other two songs.
This song is obviously about someone trying to wheedle a stake out of a woman named Suzy, so he or she can gamble with it, sure they will win at the game this time. Perhaps they have done well in the past. Perhaps they are overconfident of their true ability to win. In the end, we are left to wonder whether the person wins or loses. This song was open ended enough to develop a story that could be about anything as long as gambling was the theme.
I created the fugitive theme in this story by having the main characters work for the Underground Railroad and spy for the Union during the war. When the story opens, the war has ended, their activities have been revealed and they feel it’s no longer safe for them to continue to live in the community in which they grew up. So, they become fugitives running from their past.
Choosing which order to present the songs and their stories was also a difficult decision, because at this point I wasn’t sure about what I was going to write. Eventually, I decided that Friend of the Devil seemed to have more of an air of finality to it than the other two, while Loser, with it’s more wide-open
interpretation could serve as the beginning song for the stories as well as a natural lead-in to Jack Straw.
From the beginning, I knew that Jack from the song Jack Straw would be the character I would carry through the three stories. I felt the ambiguity of his role in the song allowed me a lot of flexibility to write his character.
I attempted to highlight the ambiguity in these songs within the stories because I think that ambiguity is a strong theme that runs through any fugitive tale. In the case of fugitive slaves, for instance, ambiguity defined their existence. Slaves were sold off away from their families or ran away. In either case, often never heard from again. If they worked for an erratic owner, they might not know from day to day whether their actions would cause them to be threatened, shipped or sold.
A fugitive of any sort has a measure of ambiguity in their lives. If they are doing something illegal or are on the run, will they be caught? Who can they trust? If they are simply living outside of the norms of the dominant culture, will they be allowed to live in peace or will they be harassed by other members of society? Who is it safe to confide in? Who can they turn to for help?
The use of gambling as a leitmotif throughout the stories also gave me another type of fugitive theme to work with - that of gamblers being outside the usual norms and values of the rest of society. It also serves to show that people are often not what they seem and a fugitive can be anyone and anyone can become a fugitive under the right circumstances.
A minor device I employed , unrelated to the fugitive theme, was the use of ten gold dollars and the twenty dollar bill to represent good and bad. Because money is mentioned in each of these songs, I decided at some point in the writing process to use the money as a symbol throughout all the stories. Ten gold dollars is always handled by Suzy, and is used in a positive or, at least, neutral way, while twenty dollars, especially a twenty dollar bill, is used by Shannon, usually giving it to Jack. The scene at the end of the first story where Jack takes the twenty from Shannon and gives it to Suzy serves as a metaphor to sever the essential goodness of Jack and the tie between Jack and Suzy, in order to taint Jack with, and tie him to, Shannon’s corrupt nature. The use of twenty’s also serves to set Shannon up to represent the devil in the last story, while establishing Jack as the friend of the devil.
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