May the Road Rise Up to Meet You: A Novel by Peter Troy Page A

asked.
    ’At’s right
. Dunmore responded, glaring at the attendant as if the question was meant as an insult.
What of it?
    My Pa was a carpenter
. He answered.
Tried to make me one, but I wadn’t any good at it, so I joined the railroad instead
.
    And Dunmore smiled. Nodded his head.
    Well, it takes a certain kinda man t’be a carpenter
. He said. And took the metal flask from his inside pocket.
You wanna nip?
    The attendant looked behind them up the length of the platform and turned back to Dunmore.
    Don’t mind if I do
.
    He took a long swig from it and handed it back to Dunmore. Who took a swig too.
    You know, Mister …
    Dunmore
.
    You know Mr. Dunmore, between yer two second-class passenger tickets, you could cash ’em in an’ get one first-class cabin for just a half dollar more
.
    But then I’d still hafta pay cargo charges for ’im
. Dunmore replied, nodding toward Micah.
    Well, see—I’m th’attendant in the first-class cars. Cain’t take him up there, ’course, but I could probably sneak you both into one of the compartments once we get rollin’. This way you can watch’m the whole time
.
    An’ jus’ what’ll that cost me?
    Well … you got any more of that there rum?
The attendant asked.
    Dunmore opened his jacket and revealed another flask just as large as the first.
    Been doin’ this same Charleston-to-Richmond run an’ back for three years now
. The attendant said.
It gets t’needin’ a little somethin’ t’break up the boredom, ya know? ’Course, if they ever found a flask or bottle on me I’d lose my job, but …
    Door’ll be open
. Dunmore said.
Plenny more where this came from
.
    Throughout the rest of that afternoon, and on late into the night, Micah got to hear Dunmore’s story told all the way through. Twice, since Dunmore would say it all over again to the attendant when he slipped in to drink some of the rum. Seemed that Dunmore could sum up all his problems on this earth in the form of just one person. His older brother. Seemed their father had given all his forty-five acres and thirteen slaves to the older of his two sons.
    Goddamn pre-mo-gen-ee-tore’s what they call THAT
. He scowled.
    So Dunmore was left with two thousand dollars to begin his life. While his older brother was given everything else. Didn’t help matters that his brother expanded the plantation. Got lucky enough to start growing cotton right around the time the prices for it began steadily rising. While Dunmore moved north to Virginia. Bought a few acres of land. Only didn’t make it as a farmer ’cause
the bank, the sheriff, and the goddamn weather was all conspirin’ against him
. Had to sell most everything but the house he built for himself. And that was when he began doing carpentry work all the time. All around Charlottesville. Built a steady income. Figured he was as good a carpenter as any man he’d come across.
    Then his brother died of pneumonia. And Dunmore didn’t bothergoing to the funeral. But he was sure to be there when his brother’s will got read. Sure enough, bastard passed everything down to his wife. Holdin’ it all in trust ’til his own son reached the age of twenty-one. All Dunmore got out of it was a thousand dollars. When his goddamn brother was worth fifty sixty times that much. And just to see how much that bastard had cheated him out of, Dunmore went to the auction at
Les Roseraies
.
    A goddamn stupid name for a place
. He said. Angry at Micah, like it was him, somehow, who came up with the name for the place he got born.
    But his brother’s place was almost as big as
Les Roseraies
. So Dunmore stuck around, like he wanted to feed that anger. Watching all that money get raked in at the auction. Hating his brother more with every new sale. ’Til he saw an old man get sold for eleven hundred dollars. A ridiculous amount for a man
half
his age. But then he started hearin’ some of the men in the crowd talk about the old man. Sayin’ he practically ran the place.