residence.
Joshua knew I was a member of the Long Nine, and had heard me speak in the halls of Springfield and Vandalia. I peered through endless rows of merchandise that could have been the fixtures of some fanciful bazaar. And Joshua caught me looking. He was the cavalier. His Pa owned a plantation outside Louisville. Speed had gone to a real academy, not a blab school, to learn his ABCs, and he belonged to the Louisville elite. He could have stayed put, married some heiress, and managed his Pa’s affairs, but he ran from all the aristocrats and wanted to make his own rough life on the frontier. I suppose that’s why he was drawn to a country lawyer like me. And I liked his Louisville manner. I hadn’t met much chivalry on the plains.
The mattress and other stuff I wanted tallied up to seventeen dollars. I couldn’t even strike a bargain with the cavalier. I had no cash in my pocket, but I told him that if he credited me till Christmas, I might be able to pay him then. And it was odd, because he wasn’t even interested in my seventeen dollars. Joshua must have seen the anguish on my face. He had a large room with a large double bed, and I was welcome to share it without cost. It smelled of charity, but I realized soon enough that Speed, with all his fine airs, was just another stray dog without a permanent home.
He pointed to a stairway that was part of the store. I climbed up the stairs with my saddlebags, located Speed’s bedroom, which was more like a barrack. I figured Speed’s clerks also slept in the same prison. I plunked my saddlebags on the creaky floor and went back downstairs.
“Well, Speed, I’m moved.”
Trouble is Joshua wasn’t such a sound entrepreneur. He would disappear for a week and return with his clothes all ruffled, and then ask me out of the blue if I’d ever been engaged. No, I said, I’d never had any kind of embrigglement . I couldn’t talk about Miss Ann, or I would have had the unholies all over again. Meantime, he absented himself from the store again like some truant and returned with a torn lip and welts on his face.
He did have an embrigglement , it seems—a gal he kept in storage at a brothel near the edge of town. Her name was Sybil Weg. He could visit her whenever he liked, sport with Sybil, stay with her for weeks at a time. But it wasn’t enough to have a pretty lady at his command. Joshua wanted to marry Sybil Weg. He wouldn’t have been the first cavalier to marry a whore, but this damn sporting house refused to release her.
Sybil shared his passion for books, he said. “You can talk Shakespeare or politics with her—she’ll listen.” And when he tried to steal her from the brothel, her manager, known as Niles, thrashed him in front of Sybil’s other clients, a list that included the mayor and all his men.
I tried to reason with Joshua. “Speed, you’re in Illinois now. You can live with her at the brothel.”
“That’s not good enough,” he said.
Sometimes he’d howl in his sleep, wake up all the clerks, kick me in the middle of a dream, scratching my shins with his toenails till they scarred up, and I reckoned I’d have to do something about Sybil Weg if I wanted to maintain the peace in our little paradise above the store.
I T WAS A MANSION next to the cornfields, on a street that didn’t even bear a name. I knew I was risking my future in Illinois, but I couldn’t watch Speed suffer like that. I had to take up the alarm in a town where the sheriff and the mayor were both on the other side. This sporting house had seen a load of lawyers and Legislators. I knocked three times and announced myself twice. A maid in narrow skirts led me into the parlor, where I stood under a cluster of chandeliers; none of the candles had been lit yet, and I had to squint just to catch a little light. There were meat pies on the table, but folks had gnawed into them, and as the maid lit the candles with a long fire pole, I could puzzle out the teeth marks in the
Joshua knew I was a member of the Long Nine, and had heard me speak in the halls of Springfield and Vandalia. I peered through endless rows of merchandise that could have been the fixtures of some fanciful bazaar. And Joshua caught me looking. He was the cavalier. His Pa owned a plantation outside Louisville. Speed had gone to a real academy, not a blab school, to learn his ABCs, and he belonged to the Louisville elite. He could have stayed put, married some heiress, and managed his Pa’s affairs, but he ran from all the aristocrats and wanted to make his own rough life on the frontier. I suppose that’s why he was drawn to a country lawyer like me. And I liked his Louisville manner. I hadn’t met much chivalry on the plains.
The mattress and other stuff I wanted tallied up to seventeen dollars. I couldn’t even strike a bargain with the cavalier. I had no cash in my pocket, but I told him that if he credited me till Christmas, I might be able to pay him then. And it was odd, because he wasn’t even interested in my seventeen dollars. Joshua must have seen the anguish on my face. He had a large room with a large double bed, and I was welcome to share it without cost. It smelled of charity, but I realized soon enough that Speed, with all his fine airs, was just another stray dog without a permanent home.
He pointed to a stairway that was part of the store. I climbed up the stairs with my saddlebags, located Speed’s bedroom, which was more like a barrack. I figured Speed’s clerks also slept in the same prison. I plunked my saddlebags on the creaky floor and went back downstairs.
“Well, Speed, I’m moved.”
Trouble is Joshua wasn’t such a sound entrepreneur. He would disappear for a week and return with his clothes all ruffled, and then ask me out of the blue if I’d ever been engaged. No, I said, I’d never had any kind of embrigglement . I couldn’t talk about Miss Ann, or I would have had the unholies all over again. Meantime, he absented himself from the store again like some truant and returned with a torn lip and welts on his face.
He did have an embrigglement , it seems—a gal he kept in storage at a brothel near the edge of town. Her name was Sybil Weg. He could visit her whenever he liked, sport with Sybil, stay with her for weeks at a time. But it wasn’t enough to have a pretty lady at his command. Joshua wanted to marry Sybil Weg. He wouldn’t have been the first cavalier to marry a whore, but this damn sporting house refused to release her.
Sybil shared his passion for books, he said. “You can talk Shakespeare or politics with her—she’ll listen.” And when he tried to steal her from the brothel, her manager, known as Niles, thrashed him in front of Sybil’s other clients, a list that included the mayor and all his men.
I tried to reason with Joshua. “Speed, you’re in Illinois now. You can live with her at the brothel.”
“That’s not good enough,” he said.
Sometimes he’d howl in his sleep, wake up all the clerks, kick me in the middle of a dream, scratching my shins with his toenails till they scarred up, and I reckoned I’d have to do something about Sybil Weg if I wanted to maintain the peace in our little paradise above the store.
I T WAS A MANSION next to the cornfields, on a street that didn’t even bear a name. I knew I was risking my future in Illinois, but I couldn’t watch Speed suffer like that. I had to take up the alarm in a town where the sheriff and the mayor were both on the other side. This sporting house had seen a load of lawyers and Legislators. I knocked three times and announced myself twice. A maid in narrow skirts led me into the parlor, where I stood under a cluster of chandeliers; none of the candles had been lit yet, and I had to squint just to catch a little light. There were meat pies on the table, but folks had gnawed into them, and as the maid lit the candles with a long fire pole, I could puzzle out the teeth marks in the
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