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.