The Enemy Says Good Morning

Of Men and Money

"Elinor!"
             I startle slightly and prick my finger on my needle as I hear my name called. I place my embroidering hoop down and rush out into the main room to see my mother.
             "Yes, Mother?" I say, rubbing the small drops of blood into the corner of my apron.
             "Will you go with Thaddeus to town and buy some things for me? I would go myself, but there is too much to be done here."
             My stomach jolts at the thought of Thaddeus, our stable man. He is a man of perhaps nine and thirty who has worked for my father for years. He's not a large man, but his stomach is and he limps after having been shot in the war. He carries with him always feathers that he said came from and Indian he had killed during his service. Thaddeus is quiet both in speech and tread and he stares at you so seriously as if he knows your every thought. My father took pity on him but has since become annoyed with his trips to taverns and spending his wages on ungodly women. Thaddeus has never made a bold move towards me nor anyone in my family and he is a good worker when he is sober, but still there is something about him. Mother trusts him, but I am unsure.
             "Of course, Mother. What do you need?" I ask, taking a pouch of money and a wicker basket from her.
             "More flour, hominy, some molasses and some more fish."
             "What kind?"
             "Whatever is at the lowest price, my dear. Times are getting harder and we have greedy mouths to feed," she says. "Off with you now. Thaddeus is waiting with the wagon."
             I nod and walk outside to see the old soldier perched in the wagon, his stubby hands gripping the reins. I swallow before crawling into the back. Thaddeus grunts before slapping the reins against the horses and moves the wagon toward town. Our boarding house lies not but a few miles from town, it is both the first and last chance for travelers to fill their stomachs and rest before they enter the chaos of town or the unforgiving road between cities.
             Thaddeus draws us quickly to the market  in the square where I dismount. No sooner do my feet hit the cobblestones than Thaddeus pulls off quickly and stops the wagon in front of a tavern. I purse my lips, then go to accomplish my mission.
             I decide on herring, for they are small and inexpensive to buy though I longed to buy mackerel. I was however quite proud that managed to use some of my father's skills and negotiated the price down. With the extra coins I might have bought sweets for Abigail and Cornelia, but I decided that it would be best to save since the captain and his lieutenants have become such expenses.
             After leaving the store, I struggle with the large bags of flour and hominy and the molasses as I come out and squint in the lowering sun for Thaddeus to bring us home.
             "Need some help?" a voice asks. I feel the weight of my food stuffs alleviate a bit. I turn my head to see a rugged face and strong arms carry them. "Hello, Miss Woodard."
             "Gideon Price, sir," I say in surprise. I look him over in slight disbelief. What a man he had grown into. Gideon was the blacksmith's son and apprentice. Now a man of eighteen, I remembered him as a boy. His father came to our boarding house often with horseshoes, tools, or for a drink. Gideon and I would play or look at the horses and he would chase me about the place and tease me to no end about my freckles, saying I got a new one for each naughty thing I did. I was a foolish girl of nine, and loathed the scrawny twelve year old who was now sturdily built, with light colored whiskers and strong hands turned black under the fingernails from his metalwork. The handsome blacksmith hardly resembles my playmate from so long ago.
             "Sir? Such formality! Gideon only, please. I see you've still been naughty," he says with a chuckle, looking at the freckles along the bridge of my nose.
             "Oh! Quite the contrary. You're the one I hear about getting into trouble, Gideon," I say, feeling my cheeks flush. The Price boy had a reputation among town for being rowdy and a bit of a brute.
             "Been keeping watch over me, have you?"
             "Only what I hear at the inn. Are you still courting that tailor's daughter?"
             "Perhaps. Pray tell, what is your interest in that bit of information?"
             "Only trying to be polite, Mr. Price."
             "You haven't changed a bit, Elinor," Gideon laughs, his blond eyelashes fluttering as he looked down. "Now then, what is the pretty Miss Woodard doing about by herself, hm?"
             "I was not by myself until Thaddeus went off to a tavern. The one with the red shutters. I'm looking for him now."
             "Ah. I see. Shall I fetch him for you?" Gideon asks, adjusting the flour and hominy sacks in his burly arms.
             "If- if you wouldn't mind, sir."
             "It'll cost you," he says, looking at me with a sly grin.
             "I-I." I modestly avert my eyes and turn my head to see a flash of red on the other side of the street, my gaze fixing on it. Gideon's eye follows.
             "Friends of yours?"
             "Second Lieutenant Gray. He is quartered at my father's boarding house," I reply. The lieutenant was talking with another soldier I didn't know.
             "Yes, I see. They seem to be everywhere now," Gideon said sharply. I turn to look at him in surprise. "How many are staying, Elinor?"
             "Three. They've burdened our house quite a bit with all we must provide."
             "I can imagine so," Gideon says. Second Lieutenant Gray and Gideon suddenly made eye contact before Gray looks at me. From across the street, his countenance conveys nothing but the indifferent state of a soldier on duty. If I were up close would he be upset? Curious? For reasons I do know, guilt washes over me as I watch him walk off down the street with the other soldier. I look back at the blacksmith's son. Gideon's joviality has disappeared. "I know which tavern it is you spoke of. Let me fetch Thaddeus for you." And without another word Gideon turns and walks away into the stone building with red shutters.
             I dare not go in the tavern. My father owns a boarding house, but it is a respectable establishment. The grimy tavern, that upon closer look I see is named The Red Rooster, however is a place which ought to be condemned by good god fearing folk. I try not to think less of Gideon for frequenting such a place, but I find it hard. I watch the door of the tavern for a sign of my escort or my friend for a while before I see Gideon round the corner of the street at the reins of my father's wagon. The blacksmith's son slows down as I walk to him. I climb up and look into the back of the wagon to see Thaddeus lying in the back. I could smell the ale on him from the front of the wagon.
             "Thaddeus, it's a wonder my father still has pity left for you, you old drunkard," I say, sitting next to Gideon.
             "May I offer to bring you safely home, Miss Woodard?" Gideon asks. I look back at Thaddeus chuckling at some drunken joke of his own mind and decided that it would be for the best.
             "If you would, Mr. Price."
             Gideon delivers us safely back to the inn. My father greets us outside, surprised to see the young apprentice at the reins. Giden and I dismount as my father thanks him heartily before drawing the wagon around to the back of the inn.
             "Shall you manage?" Gideon asks me handing me the heavy foodstuffs again.
             "Yes. Will you manage the walk to town?"
             "A short walk taken by many a gentleman both sober and not. I will be fine." Gideon looks at me, almost tenderly it seems- a look that makes me grateful my cap covers my burning ears. "It has been nice seeing you again, Miss Woodard. It has been too long. Perhaps I shall extend my route and have my pints at your father's inn from now on."
             "I'm sure he would appreciate the business," I say looking down into the lifeless eyes of the herring in my basket. Gideon seems somewhat disappointed with my response.
             "Of course. I must return to my work now you see."
             "Yes. Thank you, Mr. Price for your help."
             "No trouble, Miss Woodard though I will let you know if I think of a favor. Good day," Gideon says turning back towards the road. He stops then looks back at me seriously. "And, Elinor, do not let those redcoats give you any trouble, do you hear?"
             I only manage a nod before turning on my heels and going inside, a sudden fear that though they are not here the soldiers have somehow, in some way, heard those dangerous, dangerous words.