Date: Fri, 18 Sep 2015 07:45:06 -0500
From: Jack Schaeffer <jack.schaeffman@gmail.com>
Subject: Light in the Window - Chapter 3

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This story was awarded the second place prize in Castle Roland's Age of
Enlightenment Contest 2015. Check out all the excellent stories and author
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Comments welcomed: jack.schaeffman@gmail.com

THE LIGHT IN THE WINDOW
By Jack Schaeffer and Mark C.

Copyright © 2015 by Jack Schaeffer & Mark C. All rights reserved

A smile is the light in the window of your face that tells people you're at
home. ~ Author Unknown


Chapter 3 - Lancaster

Edward gratefully opened the painted wooden door of the tavern and entered
a crowded room full of diners busy eating and talking amongst
themselves. He stood there a few seconds looking for an empty table but
when it became obvious there was none available, he just hoped for an empty
seat to occupy after his long ride. Or he could just stand in a corner -
his backside was a bit sore from the long ride on the uncomfortable stage
coach.

Walking further into the warm room, he spotted an empty chair at a table
over against the wall and then noticed the sole occupant at the oaken table
looking at him with interest. Did he know this man? Perhaps someone he had
helped in Wilkins' lumber business in Philadelphia? The man kept staring at
him, willing him over in a silent invitation.

Edward crossed the room, brushed his hand through his too long hair, and
said to the man, "Would you mind if I occupied this chair?"

"Please...uh, by all means," replied Charles, who could not take his eyes
off the black haired gentleman standing in front of him. "The lamb is
excellent and the ale is hearty if you are in need of sustenance. The stage
just came in, by any chance did you arrive on it?"

"Yes. As a matter of fact, I did. From Philadelphia. It was a tiring
journey," he said with a weary sigh. Taking his seat, he looked at the
nearly full plate of delicious looking food in front of Charles and his
empty stomach demanded he order a plate too. He waved to the innkeeper, who
came over and took Edward's order requesting the same meal as the man
sitting across from him. When the innkeeper left, he turned to his table
companion and said, "My name is Edward Branson. Pleased to make your
acquaintance."

"Likewise. I'm Charles Adams. Did you enjoy a good coach ride?" He noticed
Edward's lips and wondered if they were as soft to the touch as they
appeared to be.

"No real issues, but my posterior is indeed glad the ride is over. Not sure
I could last another day." He grinned at Charles.

"What brings you to Lancaster, Edward?"

"I finished my tenure of servitude in a Philadelphia lumber business, and
now I'm heading west. I don't have a place in mind, I'll know it when I see
it. But I do know I desire a rural atmosphere. I worked a farm in Ireland,
but sickness claimed my family and I've sought a fresh start. I've a
lifetime of farming experience and I also know carpentry, so wherever I go,
I should be able to contribute to my welfare. And you, Charles, is
Lancaster your home?"

"No. I'm originally from Philadelphia myself. Been in the Continental Army
for the better part of the war. In the morning, my wagon and I will be
heading west to the territory of Ohio. I've been awarded a land grant for
acreage there and I intend to farm it. The War wiped away most of what I
had and like you, I desire a fresh start. It swept away my past but perhaps
with the land grant, the War has provided for my future. I'll admit being a
soldier is not the ideal training for farming, but I'm willing to work hard
at it."

The conversation ceased temporarily as the innkeeper set a wooden trencher
- full of roasted lamb and vegetables - in front of Edward, who began to
allay his hunger with earnest. The lull in conversation gave Charles an
opportunity to scrutinize his table companion more closely and while doing
so, a glimmer of an idea sprouted in his mind. He needed more information
to fertilize it, and set about trying to learn more of his charming, and
decidedly handsome, dinner companion.

As Edward ate, Charles told him of his early childhood in Philadelphia and
his family's move to Boston after his mother's death during childbirth,
where he had been raised by his father's sister and a nanny, while his
father served as a colonial irregular in the British Army. "He often spoke
to me of his adventures, well into the night, and I remember as a young boy
dreaming of being out on the frontier, hunting, fishing and marching
through the forests like my father," said Charles wistfully.

"My father was marching with General Wolfe when they took Quebec, when I
was a lad. Years later he relived the glory of those battles over and over
again as he regaled me with his tales over dinner and late into the
nights. War sounded so grand to a young boy of 10 or 11." Charles sighed,
and took another drink of his ale.

"I take it your own experience with war changed your good opinion of the
enterprise," said Edward, wiping his mouth clean of any errant meat
juices. Charles looked across the table at him, wishing he could kiss those
lips. The thought was so sudden, the desire so powerful, it startled
him. He realized Edward was waiting for his response.

"Uh...yes...it did, most assuredly. But I think, even knowing what I know
now, I still would have volunteered to fight. My father believed in the
cause we were fighting for. He was a founding member of the Sons of Liberty
in Boston. He, Sam Adams and some of the other Sons would hold meetings in
different locales, trying to organize some kind of resistance to the
British, and I would secretly follow him and listen to the speeches and get
as angry as they were at the injustices being forced on the colonies."

"He caught me one evening. Dragged me by the arm into an alley and cuffed
me a good one on the ear - me a grown man of 22, mind you. `Whatta ya think
yer doin', boy?' he said to me. `Ya want to get nicked and locked up on one
o' them ships out in the harbor?' I had no idea what he was nattering on
about, but British brutality was legendary in Boston after the massacre. So
I steered away after that.

"He never confirmed nor denied it, but I know he was part of throwing all
the tea in the harbor that fateful night. I would ask, and he'd just look
at me with a twinkle in his eye. I wasn't surprised he'd be one of the
first in line when the militia was called out to defend Breed's Hill. He
survived the first two attacks, but was killed during the third wave."

"I'm so sorry," said Edward, not sure what to say.

"Thank you. It's ironic that he should die at the hands of the British, the
very men he fought bravely with against the French. I asked him once why he
changed sides. He said he didn't, the British did. He said he always tried
to be on the side of what was right. I guess time will tell if the right
side won this war in the end, eh?"

"You talk of the British as if you aren't one of them," said Edward
innocently.

"I'm most certainly not British, sir," said Charles, more forcefully than
he intended. The two gentlemen seated at the table next to them stopped
their conversation and looked over at Edward and a suddenly red-faced
Charles.

Seeing he had unintentionally upset his table mate, Edward attempted to
make amends. "My apologies, Charles. I misspoke. I take it you now fully
embrace the name of American."

"Yes, and I'm damned proud of it. I watched hundreds of men give their
lives for the freedom we have now. I may have been born British, but I'll
die an American," said Charles with finality. Edward nodded.

"I've been here for three years now," said Edward. "In my heart I'm an
Irishman, but I will admit to a great affection for this country. I'm not
yet ready to declare myself an American, but I can see that day coming."

"Here, here," said Charles, lifting his pint of ale, his friendly
countenance restored. Edward smiled. The meal over and with both sitting
back nursing the last of their ale, a person observing them would think
them the best of friends. Both felt easy and comfortable with the other and
Charles was certain, despite still knowing very little of this man, the
offer he was going to present to Edward was the right one for him, and he
hoped Edward felt the same.

"Edward, I have a proposition for you. Why don't you join me traveling
west? During the journey you can impart such knowledge I may need in the
matter of farming, and there is more safety in two of us over one. I hope
to provide fresh meat along the way and you can inspect our route and
determine if any locale we pass through is agreeable to you long term. What
say you?"

Edward paused with his pint halfway to his lips, looking across the table
at the man he'd only just met, and silently considered his proposal. He
probed Charles' face closely, seeing an honest offer, willingly extended,
and he somehow knew Charles was hoping he would say yes. But he hesitated.

He liked Charles. He was friendly enough, and a great story
teller. Certainly he was passionate about what he believed in, and he was
as determined and apparently capable a fellow as Edward had ever met. But
there was something about him...he just wasn't sure he wanted to commit to
such a journey so suddenly.

"Charles, I appreciate the offer, and I will gladly think on it a wee
bit. Can I give you an answer in a few days?"

"Nay, I depart tomorrow morning at the break of day," said Charles
sadly. His dream of riding westward with this wonderful man at his side was
fading away quickly.

"Then you shall have my answer in the morning," said Edward. Finishing the
last dregs in his tankard, Edward stood and inquired about lodging. Charles
informed him there was no room at this inn and his own room here only had a
single bed, but down the street at the William Pitt Tavern, there were
rooms available, he had heard.

"Where and what time shall I meet you on the morrow, Charles? I need to be
off and see about my night's accommodations or I may be bedding down with
your livestock."

"I've arranged with Benjamin at the Pitt Emporium to have the wagon and
team readied at 7. Soonest started, soonest there. If you arrive
beforehand, you can inspect things and recommend anything I have omitted,
in my ignorance. I hope you decide to take me up on my offer," he said,
extending his hand in friendship.

"Very well, I will bid you good evening, sir, and a pleasant one at
that. In the morrow then." Edward found the innkeeper, paid his dinner bill
and departed. Luckily the William Pitt Tavern, down the street only three
buildings, had two rooms available and Edward was soon shown to one.

Charles, in the meantime, also paid his bill and retired to his room over
the restaurant for the night. Looking out the window flanked by two gingham
curtains, he glimpsed Edward as he neared the William Pitt and ultimately
entered through the front door. Then he was gone, leaving the Tavern's
front porch empty once again.

Charles softly cursed his luck at not being able to offer Edward a bed in
his room as he would have appreciated his company - and perhaps the chance
to see Edward naked before putting on any nightshirt. Edward had
unexpectedly stirred his long dead emotions and Charles mightily looked
forward to his company during the journey. If only Edward would say yes to
his proposition.

As pre-arranged, the morning cook rapped on Charles' door at 5 A.M.,
although Charles was awake and dressed by then. With a hot meal of biscuits
and porridge drizzled with honey fortifying him, Charles left the inn with
his case and found himself in short order at the Pitt Emporium's back lot
where the team of six horses was being harnessed to his wagon by Benjamin's
son, Noah.

He spotted Edward going over his list of supplies with the shopkeeper, and
his heart skipped a beat. He came. Was it just to say goodbye, or to join
him on an adventure westward?

Charles stepped forward. "Greetings on the day to you both!"

"Ah...the slug-a-bed arises, now all the work is finished," Benjamin
teased.

"No, `twas carefully planned that way. The army taught me to plan my
arrival at the most opportune time." He grinned at Benjamin. "And Edward,
are you impressed with my preparations? Any further suggestions to make, or
do you recommend starting over?" He smiled at Edward, teasing him and
enjoying Edward's brilliant smile in response.

"Actually, you two have done an excellent job with supplies. I did have one
suggestion to add, and Benjamin has already remedied it, that being a
sewing kit. It's something two men would easily overlook but I've made use
of one in the past and noticed its lack. Other than that, we are as
complete as can be, without having a magician's crystal to peer into the
future. I did ask Benjamin about another horse for us to ride, and he sent
a clerk to the stable to inquire."

"Wait," said Charles. "You said `we'. Does that mean you've decided to come
with me?"

"Yes. If your generous offer still stands," said Edward. Charles simply
nodded, afraid to speak for fear of what he might say or do in the
moment. His hands shook with excitement as he searched for a space near the
front of the wagon to stow his case. He saw that Edward had already found a
place for his near the back.

Edward spent a few moments looking over the horses, checking the yokes and
braces, the horses' tails swishing in the morning breeze as they stood
patiently under the shade of the oak trees. Charles just looked at Edward,
his back strong and straight, supported by hindquarters the sight of which
was threatening to undo him. How did this happen? In all his planning and
pondering, he never dreamed he might start a new life with a new man.

Of course he was getting way ahead of himself. Edward had made no
indication of a romantic interest in Charles in any way. He knew next to
nothing about the man, except he was from Ireland, had lost his family, and
desired to be a farmer. Not much to go on. But that's what the journey was
for. It would be a journey of discovery, and possibly a new beginning for
them both.

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Authors' Note: If you have enjoyed this story, check out Jack Schaeffer's
"Forever" series in the Beginnings section on Nifty if you haven't already
- http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/beginnings/forever/