Seth II CarolineChapter 17 More Decisions
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Seth II - CarolineChapter 16: Decisions free porn video
1871
Robert Williams flopped into a high-backed chair, rubbed his sore calves and smiled weakly at his wife who sat nursing their daughter in the corner by the stairs, well away from drafts and out of the lamp light. For Caroline it was a pleasant time, a time she looked forward to and knew would soon end.
"How was your day?" she asked quietly, crossing her feet on the wooden stool between them.
"Where's Johnny. It's too quiet for him to be home."
"He's sleeping at the Crowleys, with their two little boys."
"That should be fun, like a barrel of monkeys. I need a drink." He pushed himself up, went to their second-hand sideboard and poured himself an inch or so of Maryland rye from a half-full bottle. Then he came and crouched near his wife and rubbed their baby's curly head. Robert stood and sipped his whisky. "I think we're in trouble," he said, his hand on the banister.
Caroline rolled her big child up to her shoulder and pulled her flowered dress together. She took a breath and made her face calm. "What kind of trouble?" she asked, happy that she had controlled her voice.
"Bad," he said, resuming his chair and putting his stockinged feet beside hers. "Might be very bad." He gripped his glass with both hands.
"Tell me. And remind me to darn those stockings." I will have to start making lists, she thought. Not enough hours in the day. Now this, this whatever it is. She patted her daughter's back and then rubbed gently.
"I need to talk with your father. We lost three customers today, good ones, big accounts." He took another sip.
Caroline wrinkled her forehead and patted the baby's back again. "Why?" she said, still very softly, determined not to show her concern.
"I think I know but I'm not sure, and they refused to say." He drank down the rest of his liquor and wiped his mouth with his fingers. "They just came in, one almost right after the other, paid up what they owed and closed their account. One even took his card with him."
"Just like that?"
He nodded. She cooed and smiled at her baby and got a gurgle in return.
"Spencer Jones's doing?" she asked, feeling a knot in her belly.
"Likely," he said. "These men were prominent slave owners in the old days, and I think all of them had sons or some close kin in the rebel cavalry."
"What can you do?"
"Nothing, my dear; absolutely nothing. Nobody has to buy from us. It's still a free country." He stood again and rubbed at the small of his back, stretching one arm high above his head.
"I'm going to put her to bed." It never ends, Caroline decided. It will never end. She remembered the fight at the dance, the cold, the yelling.
Robert kissed his baby's cheek and then got himself a bit more whisky while his wife mounted the stairs. He rubbed at the cracked veneer on the edge of the sideboard and closed his eyes. Some long buried fears crawled out, and he saw again the prison camp, smelled the stench of death, the rotting wounds, the snarling guards.
Upstairs, letting her hands do their work without active thought, Caroline prayed for strength as she changed her baby's diaper and put her down to sleep.
When supper was finished at the French home that Sunday and Caroline had taken the children out to play in the front yard, Robert and his father-in-law had a serious discussion about lost accounts.
"I suggest you advertise more, and more often, too, every week," said Mr. French, looking again at Robert's list of terminated clients.
"You know the Sentinel. He always buries our ad somehow, puts it in with the nostrums and wig makers instead of with the agricultural products."
The older man laughed. "Never underestimate Fields. He's a die-hard, a true believer, thinks he's one of the elect. It's not a lost cause to him."
"I know. We're practically neighbors, and he has never put his foot in our store, never mentions our place in his columns as he does every other local man who buys an ad. I've seen him march past a dozen times; he doesn't even look in the window."
"Wouldn't expect him to," said Mr. French. "During the war, as I suppose you know, they tossed him in the clink for all his vile, Lincoln-hating diatribes and let him rot there for a while."
"These days he never writes of the president without calling him 'Useless'."
"Poor Grant. He's certainly had his troubles."
"I've registered to vote, Mr. French. Did I tell you? That might have promoted this harrassing"
Caroline's father nodded.
"And your daughter is getting interested in these women's rights organizations. She's been to a couple of afternoon meetings over in Sandy Spring with one of her friends, a Quaker I suppose."
"A silly business, but I must say I'm not surprised. No harm in it I'm sure. Let's get back to your customers, did they make any explanation, have any complaints?"
"The men who came in never said an angry word, never tried to explain or make excuses, nothing." Robert shook his head. "Hardly looked at me in fact. Just paid cash, to the last cent, and left."
"You'll have to make staying with us more attractive. Write your account holders, every one of them. I'll help you with a short letter. Do keep it short. The longer ones go right in the stove. Offer better terms, longer terms, a month without interest, special discounts, whatever you think best. Only costs a penny to mail a letter."
"I can do that. Get a few out every day," Robert said. "Perhaps Caroline can help. Did you see that one of our new competitors is advertising low prices but only short credit?"
"We're going to be getting a special break on that Delaware super phosphate, those 200 pound bags from Whann. Advertise a sale, give free samples, emphasize delivery. Would you like some more pails to give away?"
"Don't think so. We deliver free now, always have out there," Robert said. "Zed will be unhappy to hear about more of those big Whann's sacks coming in. He hates the things."
"So you've lost a dozen customers, out of what, two hundred; not even ten percent. Look on the bright side, my boy. The railroad is coming. I'm sure Rockville's population will double in two or three years."
"They've been saying that since the war ended," Robert said. "Is there anything we can do legally?"
"I certainly don't know?" Mr. French said. "I really doubt it when its the law itself that's causing us harm, the state's attorney is mighty choleric I fear."
"I was in the wrong army," Robert said, mostly to himself.
"This will pass," said Mr. French, patting Robert's back.
"Oh," said Robert, eager to change the subject, "speaking of the railroad, I talked with a woman, an old Nigrah lady with a sharp mind that owns some property along the right-of-way. She's been free for I-don't-know how long. In fact I'm pretty sure the B&O bought some land from her."
Mr. French leaned back in his comfortable chair and fished a thin cigar from an inside pocket. "Go on," he said.
"She's willing to rent us land for a warehouse or storage yard not far from where they say the depot will be."
"Sounds good if it's not too expensive. Wait, you said 'rent' didn't you?"
"That's what made me think of it, the legal business," Robert said. "I talked to a lawyer this week, a good one, a justice of the peace named Thomas Anderson."
"Well now," said Mr. French after he bit the end from his cigar. "That's right up there with the elders of the temple. Anderson, eh?"
"Yessir, I found that out. He knows everybody it's important to know. He and Judge Bouic share an office. And he's this old darky's lawyer, drew up the leases for her. He thought it was pretty funny himself. Made jokes about the clients he had among the shanties in the run."
"What's the old girl asking?"
"Five dollar per acre per year, an honest price I think."
"I'd agree," said Mr. French striking a phosphorous match on the bottom of his shoe. "Down in Georgetown," he said between puffs, "ground rent would be a hundred an acre if you could find the land; maybe two hundred."
"All right if I sign lease to rent some land or would you rather do it. You're the principal after all."
"You do it, and while you are in that sage man's office, you might just mention the problem you seem to be having with the state's attorney and his minions. Can't hurt." Mr. French produced a large smoke ring which floated off toward the ceiling.
"I saw your neighbor, Holmes, recently," Robert said. "When I registered to vote. He may have had a hand in this."
"I thought you had thoroughly cowed him. You have his signed confession."
"Perhaps," Robert said. "But if he is in with that courthouse crowd, he can do us some harm."
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