Assassins of History- Transference Read online

  His brother, Jonah, was five feet eleven inches tall but was slimmer than his brother. He must have weighed about one hundred thirty pounds, but sported sandy blonde hair. Where his older brother had a solid handshake, Jonah had the handshake of a teenager. Jonah had to be about fifteen years of age.

  I quickly reasoned that Daphne must be the oldest child and probably was about eighteen years of age. A thought suddenly hit me. I had married my wife when she was nineteen. Imperceptibly, I shook my head at the thought.

  I inspected the boys’ clothing. Both of the brothers were dressed in black trousers, unadorned white shirts and dark blue top coats.

  The crowd was ushered into the house, and for the first time since I had been in this century, I saw black servants. A short and smiling black woman kindly took my hat.

  Mr. Newcomer told Ahab, one of the male servants, to show me to the kitchen to clean up and refresh myself. I dutifully followed him out the back of the house and was glad for the time to recuperate from the onslaught of importance bestowed on my efforts.

  Ahab took me to a table in the back yard on which sat a large white ceramic bowl and an adjoining pitcher, which I reasoned was full of water. I also espied a bar of soap along with a hand towel.

  I asked, “Is therah a bathroom in tha vicinity?” Ahab tilted his head and looked at me in the most uncomprehending way. I reiterated, “I mean is therah an outhouse on tha property?” He grinned and gestured to a small building about seventy feet further back. I smiled and said, “I would rather utilize those facilities before I wash up.” He again smiled with all the patience of Job and bowed. I knew he must have thought that here is another of these idiot people that aren’t from around here extolling their weird ways.

  Anyhow, I proceeded to the outhouse, relieved myself and returned to the table to wash up. Ahab watched me closely on my round trip journey without a sign of embarrassment. I believe he was the self-appointed guardian of the Newcomer family, and he had decided that I needed to be meticulously guarded.

  I removed my coat and rolled up my sleeves to wash my hands and forearms. It was then that for the first time I really got a whiff of how badly I smelled. So after washing up and running my fingers through my hair, I flapped my coat about five times to get the sweaty odor out as much as possible. Abruptly, Ahab handed me a small bottle with a stopper. I accepted the proffered container and uncorked the top. I took a sniff and smelled the distinct scent of lilacs. I profusely thanked him and dabbed the stopper numerous times under my armpits, once on my chest and a few time on the seat of my trousers. This must have been another faux pas in Ahab’s eyes because he raised both his eyebrows to their full height.

  I grinned at him, donned my coat and said, “Shall we return to tha big house?”

  He responded mockingly, “Yes Sir, Marse Hager.”

  I smiled knowingly and retorted, “No need to call me that. I’m just Jim.”

  Ahab looked embarrassed and didn’t reply. He just extended his arm toward the mansion indicating he wanted me to precede him. I guessed he didn’t want this weird white man at his back. I might infect him with a disease or attack him.

  I could feel Ahab’s eyes boring into the back of my head as we walked back to the house, but we traversed the distance without any mishap. I definitely felt refreshed and I know I smelled better although the odor was probably what you would normally expect from a dance hall girl.

  Anyway, I was brought to the assembled guests who were chatting in the parlor of the mansion. I use those descriptive words of the home loosely. It was considered a mansion in the 19th century. In the 21st century it would be a high-end residence with a market value of about $550,000, if it had running water, air conditioning, plumbing and electrical fixtures. The ladies were fanning themselves to try and keep cool. The elongated windows on both sides of the house were opened creating a cross ventilation, which helped somewhat with the cooling. But, it was still humid and the early fall weather hadn’t broken yet so the temperature was in the high 80’s.

  Upon entering the room, I was directed to a chair by Mr. Newcomer and he proceeded to ask me about the rescue of his daughter. I related all that had happened from meeting the Yankee cavalry contingent until Captain Mosby assigned a trooper to escort Miss Daphne home. I played down what I had done and really gave all the credit to Captain Mosby. At the end of my account Mr. Newcomer turned to the Captain and profusely thanked him for the rescue of his daughter and for the service performed to our country. Captain Mosby bowed his head toward Mr. Newcomer in acceptance of the compliment and honor.

  Mr. Newcomer then glanced at me and said, “I appreciate tha candid description of tha rescue. Tha way Daphne told it, ya were tha only one therah and did all tha saving yarself.”

  I abruptly turned to Daphne. She instantly shifted her fan to the front of her face, but I could tell that she was blushing. I turned back to Mr. Newcomer and uttered, “I felt it a privilege to have been allowed by Captain Mosby to accompany tha troop in their daring assault on tha invaders. I was both scared to death and excited beyond all description at tha same time.”

  This brought a chuckle from Mr. Newcomer and Captain Mosby and giggles from Mrs. Newcomer and Daphne. The brothers tried to look bored with the whole affair, but I could tell they were wishing they had been in on the rescue. It was the same old story no matter what century in which you abide. A boy’s transcendence from puberty to manhood was usually proven by successfully surviving participation in a war. I could tell the boys were chomping at the bit to join some branch of the service and I bet it was their mother who had vetoed that action from the get go.

  It was at this juncture that the black woman servant announced that dinner was ready. So we all stood to be sorted by couples for the grand march to the dining room.

  Mr. Newcomer accompanied Mrs. Newcomer to the dining room, while Captain Mosby was paired with Miss Daphne. Tom and Jonah Newcomer and I brought up the rear.

  

  The Dark Mage’s Log: ‘Earth 3’ Date: 18620918

  Jargunn dared not enter the house, but watched from outside at a dining room window utilizing his cloaking device. His directional microphone recorded the conversation and teleported it to Axeylon 5.

  

  Once we arrived at the dining room, I took a moment to look around. The room was exquisite. The crown molding around the top of the fourteen foot ceiling was at least eight inches wide with a dark brown stain. There was a wainscot molding about four feet off the floor that was about six inches wide with the same stain as the ceiling crown molding. Below the wainscot the wall was painted a bright white. Above the wainscot the walls were painted a light yellowish white.

  In the middle of the room was a long dark brown wooden table, probably made of oak, with two huge curved and fluted legs at both ends of the table that curved down and turned into cleverly carved lion paws as the finishing pieces that touched the floor. I could just make out that there were also two such massive legs located midway of the table. However these legs faced the ends of the table and ran parallel with the table length giving it sturdiness and keeping it from sagging in the middle.

  There were two portraits on the wall behind presumably the patriarch’s head of the table. One was of a man that had a striking resemblance to Mr. Newcomer and the other was of a stunning woman with raven black hair and green eyes that held my attention for a moment longer than was really proper. However, since I was flanked by the Newcomer boys, who were paying no attention to me, and the other people ahead of me could not see where my attention was directed, I hadn’t committed a faux pas.

  A very large oak buffet at the other end of the room was of the same style as the dining table. It stood about four feet high and had to be seven feet long. I could see that there were numerous covered serving dishes and platters distributed across its top. Above some of the dishes, small clouds of steam were rising.

  On the wall behind the buffet was a large mirror that must have been four feet wide an
d five feet tall. The last piece of furniture in the room was located against the inside wall. It was an ornate ebony-stained wine cabinet with numerous crystal decanters that held an abundance of colored liquids.

  We were asked to find our seats, which were designated by cards with our names formally written in calligraphy in the dinner plates. Mr. Newcomer was seated, as I expected, at the patriarch’s end of the table with the portraits to his back. Mrs. Newcomer was seated at the opposite end of the table. Tom Newcomer, the eldest boy, was to Mr. Newcomer’s left. I was to Tom’s left and Jonah, the youngest boy, was to my left. Captain Mosby was seated to the right of Mr. Newcomer and to the Captain’s right was Daphne.

  I peered across the table at her and she smiled coquettishly at me. I returned her smile with a befuddled look. I was purely out of my depth with this formal celebratory gathering of Miss Daphne’s return to the bosom of her family and community without any harm to her person.

  In the twinkling of an eye, it dawned on me that not only was I out of my depth at this table, but I was out of my depth in this 19th century universe. However, it seemed that I was being enticed into believing I could and should function in this universe and forget about returning to my own 21st century. I had almost begun to buy into the concept. The beautiful creature, sitting across from me with such appealing eyes and body language and who resembled my wife and the woman of my dreams, could be the final inducement to lure me into a renunciation of my former life.

  But, for some reason, call it my lack of confidence, the knowledge that I never possessed the looks to garner this type of attention or my normal paranoid attitude, I just knew what was happening wasn’t real. Let me amend that last thought. What was happening was real, but it wasn’t plausible. It didn’t make sense. The comprehension of the series of events that resulted in me being here scared me. I felt weak and was glad I hadn’t been standing when these revelations hit me. If I had been standing, I would have reeled and probably would have had to find a chair to sit down.

  As it was, I had been leaning forward looking at Miss Daphne, but the sudden impact of the realizations made me settle back into my chair. I must have had the most anguished expression on my face because Daphne abruptly paled and asked, “Mr. Hager, are ya feeling alright?”

  I stared at her for a few seconds and then answered, “Yes, I am quite alright, now.” The conversation at the table had stopped and everyone was looking at me. Daphne concentrated her gaze on me. It was as if she could read my thoughts. It was very uncanny and I blushed crimson again. I quickly added, “I just had a premonition and it sort of shook me. No harm done. I’m sorry to cause such a stir. Please forgive me.”

  To get the scrutiny of everyone off me, I quickly turned to Mr. Newcomer and asked, “Sir, I have been admiring tha portraits on tha wall behind you. Can ya enlighten me as to who they might be?”

  He answered, “Don’t tell me that ya had a premonition about them?”

  I smiled broadly and responded, “No, not at all. However, not to be disrespectful, they are an intriguing couple, wouldn’t you say?”

  This brought a smile from Mr. Newcomer that literally animated his whole being. I could tell the likenesses in the portraits were his favorite people and I was about to hear quite a family story.

  Mrs. Newcomer immediately chided, “Horus, if we are going to hear this tale again, at least let us start tha dinner.”

  He considerately answered, “Of course, my dear. Ahab, please serve tha guests.”

  Mrs. Newcomer turned to me and stated, “Mr. Hager, ya don’t know what ya have let yaself in forah.”

  I was glad the object of conversation and observation had shifted from me to Mr. Newcomer. At least I hoped it had. I took a quick glance around the table and everyone was now looking at Mr. Newcomer, except for Daphne Jane. She was still staring at me as if she would bore a hole through me. I quickly turned and focused on Mr. Newcomer.

  Ahab and the black woman servant began to ladle steamy soup into bowls and put them in front of the dinner participants. I made a surreptitious peek around the table to see which of the two spoons on the right side of my plate to utilize. I observed Captain Mosby take the spoon that was farthest from the plate and I followed suit.

  In the meantime, Mr. Newcomer, warming to his tale, leaned back in his chair. Then with a wistful look began, “Well, tha man in tha painting is my father and tha lady is my mother. Nobody knows how they got herah, but tha story goes that they arrived in this area around 1798 from New York. They sort of appeared out of tha blue. One minute they weren’t here and tha next they were.”

  “My father was a genius when it came to making money. At first he hired himself out to a local farmer and helped clear trees from land for a crop of corn and wheat. He talked his employer into cutting tha oak trees as close to tha ground as possible so therah were just a minimum of stumps and then cutting tha harvested wood in eight foot lengths. Father then got in touch with several government officials in Washington who were in charge of constructing tha armory herah in Harpers Ferry in 1799. He was able to get a contract for his employer to provide tha wood for tha building. Father also was able to sell wood from tha clearing of other woodlots owned by his employer in tha local area. This was a very enterprising approach at tha time.”

  “Father’s employer was so amazed at tha success of tha wood trade that he put father in charge of tha enterprise and increased his pay. Consequently, Father was placed in charge of overseeing tha clearing of all his employer’s woodlands and tha selling of any wood products garnered. Therah always seemed to be a demand for wood down rivah.”

  “Not to be outdone, my mother bought a bolt of cloth and visited tha local merchant in Harper’s Ferry. She contracted to make a dress to be displayed in tha merchant’s store and, if it sold, she was to get one third of tha price. Well, her dress sold within two days and tha merchant contracted for more. She ultimately was providing a dress every two weeks for tha merchant. Hiring a local seamstress, she expanded to providing dresses for a Hagerstown merchant. She always contracted with only one merchant in any town to sell her dresses.”

  “That’s how they got their start in this area. Tha portraits were painted around 1814. I was born in 1810. My older brother and sister live in Martinsburg, Virginia and my younger sister lives near Shepherdstown, Virginia. Tha family mystery is that around 1835 my parents just disappeared. Whatever happened to them is unknown.”

  My head snapped up and I looked intently at him after his last statement. He had sort of a reminiscing look on his face. For some reason I felt Daphne’s eyes on me. She had witnessed my reaction. I looked in her direction and she was regarding me with a knowing smile on her face.

  I was glad the object of conversation and observation remained on Mr. Newcomer. At least I hoped it had. I took a quick glance around the table to see if anyone else had observed my reaction, but, thank heaven, no one had. I slowly turned my head back to consider Daphne Jane Newcomer. She was still staring at me as if she would bore a hole right through me. I blushed and quickly turned to refocus on Mr. Newcomer.

  Mrs. Newcomer chided Mr. Newcomer, “Horus, you need to eat yar soup lest it gets cold.” So he stopped his family chronicle to grab a few spoonfuls.

  All the dinner participants were concentrating on their soup bowls, while again I was drawn to look across the table into what I considered the most alluring brown eyes of this century.

  Daphne now was smiling at me ever so slyly. I didn’t understand her continued exploratory stares. So I returned her gaze intently for a few moments, searching for some readable facial expression that would explain her knowing grin. This ultimately made her feel uncomfortable, so she shifted her gaze to her father.

  Mr. Newcomer looked up with the intent of continuing his saga, but Mrs. Newcomer decreed, “Horus, I think ya have given a quite adequate description of tha family history to our guests. Then turning to me, she asked, “Why don’t we discuss what Mr. Hager was doing on tha River Road that
led to tha rescue of our daughter?”

  All eyes at the table abruptly were turned toward me. Ahab, as well as the black woman servant, stopped their serving functions and were looking at me with great interest. I had told the extent of the cavalry escapade when I had arrived, but this was a more personal in-depth question. I didn’t think this was the type of query that was usually asked of dinner guests, so I knew something was going on that I didn’t understand. Since I was taken completely by surprise, I didn’t have time to compose a good fabrication, so I told the truth.

  “Well, Mrs. Newcomer, I have just been employed to be tha day school teacher in Shepherdstown this fall and I was at tha newspaper office researching tha battles and campaigns that have taken place so far during tha War herah in tha east. I thought some of tha students might want to discuss what has happened in regard to tha history of our new country.”

  Mrs. Newcomer nodded approvingly and then inquired, “I understand that ya are originally from Arkansas. Is yar family originally from therah?” I could see that this was going to get down to the nitty gritty before long. I was either being interrogated about my lineage to determine whether I was good enough to be considered a friend of the family or a fit husband for Miss Daphne Jane Newcomer. I was sure it wasn’t the latter. For some reason, I looked at Mosby. He was biting his lip and trying not to laugh out loud. Apparently he had been through this interrogation before. I smiled broadly and thinking fast began my family saga.

  I stated, better make that lied, “My family is originally from Alabama (which was a half-truth). They migrated to a small river port in southern Arkansas on tha Washita River called Champagnolle (pronounced Shamp an knoll) in tha 1820’s. My father started a mercantile store therah and also became an agent for tha sale of any of tha local wood, vegetables or cotton down river into Looziana.”

  I saw Mrs. Newcomer grin at my pronunciation of Louisiana. I continued, “I grew up working in my father’s store and learned cyphering from him at an early age. A friend in town had some books and taught me to read at night and by age twelve I’d learned to read pretty well. By age sixteen I’d become very good at my father’s business, but longed to see some of tha places mentioned in tha books I’d read.”