Read Online The Taker by Alma Katsu - Free Book Online
Authors: Alma Katsu
Tags: Fiction, Literary, General, Romance, Historical, Love Stories, supernatural, Physicians, Immortality, Alchemists
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know, do you? Of course not, you’re just a stupid girl. You don’t understand nothing.”
I frowned but didn’t reply because Nevin was right in one respect: I had no idea what the man was really talking about. I was ignorant of what went on in the world at large.
He pointed to a group of men standing to the side of the crowded field. “See them men?” he asked, indicating Tobey Ostergaard, Daniel Daughtery, and Olaf Olmstrom. The three were among the poorer men in town, although the less charitable might say they were among the more shiftless, too.
“They’re talking trouble,” Nevin said. “Do you know what a ‘white Indian’ is?”
Even the stupidest girl in the village would have attested to knowing the term: news had come up months ago of an uprising in Fairfax, when townsmen dressed as Indians had overpowered the town clerk when he tried to serve a writ to a farmer delinquent in his payments.
“The same business is afoot here,” Nevin said, nodding. “I heard Olmstrom and Daughtery and some others talk to Father about it. Complaining about the Watfords unfairly charging too much …” The details would have been beyond Nevin’s comprehension; no one explained to children about accounts and charges at the provisioner’s store. “Daughtery says it’s a conspiracy against the common man,” Nevin recited, sounding as though he wasn’t sure Daughtery might not speak the truth.
“So? What do I care if Daughtery won’t pay his debt to the Watfords?” I sniffed, pretending I didn’t care. Inside, however, I was shocked to think someone would willingly default on an obligation, having been taught by our father that such behavior was disgraceful and something only a person with no self-respect would consider.
“It could mean ill for your boy Jonathan,” Nevin sneered, delighted to have the opportunity to tease me about Jonathan. “It’s not just the Watfords who stand to be hurt if things go bad. The captain holds thepaper to their property … What would happen if they refused to pay their rents? Them men fought for three days in Fairfax. I heard they stripped the constable and beat him with sticks, and made him return home on foot, naked as he was born.”
“We don’t even have a town clerk in St. Andrew,” I said, alarmed by my brother’s story.
“Most likely the captain would send his biggest, strongest axmen to Daughtery and demand he pay up.” There was a touch of awe in Nevin’s voice; his respect for authority and a desire to see justice prevail—our father’s traits, surely—outweighed his desire to see Jonathan suffer some ill fortune.
Daughtery and Olmstrom … the captain and Jonathan … even prim Miss Watford and her equally supercilious brother … I was humbled by my ignorance, and felt a grudging respect for my brother’s ability to see the world in its complexity. I wondered what else went on that I didn’t know about.
“Do you think Father will join them? Will he be arrested?” I whispered, worried.
“The captain don’t hold paper on our place,” Nevin informed me, a tad disgusted that I didn’t know this already. “Father owns it outright. But I think he agrees with this fellow here.” He nodded at the preacher. “Father came to the territory same as everybody else, thinking they would be free, but it hasn’t worked out that way. Some are having a hard time of it, while the St. Andrews are getting rich. Like I said”—he kicked at the dirt, raising a cloud of dry dust—“your boy could be in for trouble.”
“He’s not my boy,” I shot back.
“You want him to be your boy,” my brother said, teasingly. “Though God in heaven only knows why. You must have a backward streak in you, Lanore, to be taken with the nelly bastard.”
“You’re just jealous, that’s why you don’t like him.”
“Jealous?” Nevin sputtered. “Of that peacock?” He scoffed and walked away, not wanting to admit I was right.
About thirty townsfolk
I frowned but didn’t reply because Nevin was right in one respect: I had no idea what the man was really talking about. I was ignorant of what went on in the world at large.
He pointed to a group of men standing to the side of the crowded field. “See them men?” he asked, indicating Tobey Ostergaard, Daniel Daughtery, and Olaf Olmstrom. The three were among the poorer men in town, although the less charitable might say they were among the more shiftless, too.
“They’re talking trouble,” Nevin said. “Do you know what a ‘white Indian’ is?”
Even the stupidest girl in the village would have attested to knowing the term: news had come up months ago of an uprising in Fairfax, when townsmen dressed as Indians had overpowered the town clerk when he tried to serve a writ to a farmer delinquent in his payments.
“The same business is afoot here,” Nevin said, nodding. “I heard Olmstrom and Daughtery and some others talk to Father about it. Complaining about the Watfords unfairly charging too much …” The details would have been beyond Nevin’s comprehension; no one explained to children about accounts and charges at the provisioner’s store. “Daughtery says it’s a conspiracy against the common man,” Nevin recited, sounding as though he wasn’t sure Daughtery might not speak the truth.
“So? What do I care if Daughtery won’t pay his debt to the Watfords?” I sniffed, pretending I didn’t care. Inside, however, I was shocked to think someone would willingly default on an obligation, having been taught by our father that such behavior was disgraceful and something only a person with no self-respect would consider.
“It could mean ill for your boy Jonathan,” Nevin sneered, delighted to have the opportunity to tease me about Jonathan. “It’s not just the Watfords who stand to be hurt if things go bad. The captain holds thepaper to their property … What would happen if they refused to pay their rents? Them men fought for three days in Fairfax. I heard they stripped the constable and beat him with sticks, and made him return home on foot, naked as he was born.”
“We don’t even have a town clerk in St. Andrew,” I said, alarmed by my brother’s story.
“Most likely the captain would send his biggest, strongest axmen to Daughtery and demand he pay up.” There was a touch of awe in Nevin’s voice; his respect for authority and a desire to see justice prevail—our father’s traits, surely—outweighed his desire to see Jonathan suffer some ill fortune.
Daughtery and Olmstrom … the captain and Jonathan … even prim Miss Watford and her equally supercilious brother … I was humbled by my ignorance, and felt a grudging respect for my brother’s ability to see the world in its complexity. I wondered what else went on that I didn’t know about.
“Do you think Father will join them? Will he be arrested?” I whispered, worried.
“The captain don’t hold paper on our place,” Nevin informed me, a tad disgusted that I didn’t know this already. “Father owns it outright. But I think he agrees with this fellow here.” He nodded at the preacher. “Father came to the territory same as everybody else, thinking they would be free, but it hasn’t worked out that way. Some are having a hard time of it, while the St. Andrews are getting rich. Like I said”—he kicked at the dirt, raising a cloud of dry dust—“your boy could be in for trouble.”
“He’s not my boy,” I shot back.
“You want him to be your boy,” my brother said, teasingly. “Though God in heaven only knows why. You must have a backward streak in you, Lanore, to be taken with the nelly bastard.”
“You’re just jealous, that’s why you don’t like him.”
“Jealous?” Nevin sputtered. “Of that peacock?” He scoffed and walked away, not wanting to admit I was right.
About thirty townsfolk
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