done to your brother. Thomas told me he didn’t want to kill him when he slugged him. I believed him and still do.”
“No, no. My brother woke up after a few hours. We only thought he was dead. I only search for Thomas to tell him he can go home. I have to let him know the truth.”
“I’ll be damned! All this time I’ve known where Thomas is but I’ve been a feared of telling ye because I was sure you’d be running him through with a knife or saber or putting a lead ball into him. That’s why I pretends not to know where he be.”
“Where is he?”
“He signed on with Mr. Bates. He’s got a farm down near to Philadelphia.”
“If I help you take Andrea to Boston can I go to Thomas? How far is he from Boston?”
“Not far. Once you catch the train it’s smooth sailing. Unless you crave another sea journey.” Bates smiled wickedly.
Rudolph still had occasional nightmares of his long past crossing of the Atlantic. He was not ready even for a short voyage from Boston to Philadelphia.
“No. I will keep my feet on land.”
“Okay matey. Let me get a letter off to me daughters in Boston, then. Let them know we be coming.”
9
Rudolph’s rail journey took him as far as Philadelphia. He then transferred to a stagecoach, which carried him to the town closest to Bates’ farm. Closing in on the object of his long search, Rudolph set out to walk the final six miles. He smiled when a buggy happened by during the first mile of his hike. Its driver offered the weary traveler a ride after inquiring about his destination. He also gave his passenger a detailed account of his mighty adventures.
“Harlan’s the name.”
“I’m Rudolph Stein.” He shook the man’s hand.
“Lucky for you I came by. Not too many people on the road this time of night. Mr. Bates’ place is a ways off too.”
“You are kind to stop.”
“Guess it’s a trait I learned from all my travels abroad.”
“You have been to the German Confederation?”
“Asia is my claim to fame.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. I traveled to India and China back in 1820. When I came back home I got engaged and we were to wed after my next voyage. But while I was back in Calcutta my finance married someone else.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Swore I’d never return to America. Never would have had to, had things gone my way, which they seldom do. I enlisted with the British East India Company. We fought some really bloody battles in Burma but after the war I grew bored with it all and left the company. I went back and stayed on in India. Then I offered my services to Shuja Shah Dunani. Ever hear of him?”
“No.”
“Doesn’t surprise me. Americans are mostly ignorant about Asia. They’re only concerned with Europe all the time. Especially with England.”
“I am German.”
“Oh? How long you been in America then?”
“Almost four years now.”
“Well, your English is better than most of your kind that I’ve heard talk. Lots of them don’t even bother to learn English, you know. They all congregate together and speak their German and drink their beer and dance their polkas. They even have their church services in German. Like in Germantown over by Philadelphia. Ever been there?”
“No. I learned a little English when I lived in Bavaria. Then masters I work for teach me more.” Rudolph knew he better remain polite or his ride might come to an end. Another one who thinks he’s better than we Germans. Most of these Americans are such dumb heads.
“I see then. Well you have a lot less of an accent than most of your kind I’ve met. Those masters of yours did a good job. They from Philadelphia then?”
“No. Boston. You were talking about serving someone? You were an indentured servant?”
“Guess you could call it that. I did what he wanted and he took care of me. That’s what no one here in America believes when I tell them my story. A lot of the so-called heathens there in India, Burma, and Afghanistan treated me a whole lot more righteously than those damn British did. It’s a fact. It’s the British that are making a mess of the world.”
Rudolph stared straight ahead. He had listened more than once as other Americans had castigated the English. He dismissed it as residue from when America was only a colony and the revolution that had followed. Maybe the bad feelings between the Americans and British are like those between the Prussians and Germans.
“Anyway Shuja Shah Dunani is an Afghani ruler who is kicked out of power.” He reverted to the present tense because the story was still so fresh in his memory that he relived it almost daily. “So he gives me money to depose his rival. I travel all the way to Kabul to the job. But the rival, Dost Mohammed is his name, seems too entrenched so I hightail it on back to India. There I meet a Maharaja who makes me a governor. I tell you they can recognize a good man over there. It’s not that way here. I’m even having troubles getting my book published. Can you believe that? No one wants to hear the truth.” Harlan shook his head. “Later on I decide to help Dost Mohammed fight against a nasty warlord and slave trader. If you can’t beat them, then join them, I always say. You see you have to pick your battles smartly. I had over 4,000 troops at my command.” He waved his arm as if the army were spread out before them. “When we took the Citadel of Saighan most of the locals want to be our allies. The most powerful one of them is the prince of Ghor. Guess you could say we mutually impressed one another. When it came time to leave he says he’ll make me the Prince of Ghor and he’ll be the vizier.”
“A prince?” Rudolph never had heard of such a rapid climb in social status, especially by an American in a foreign land.
“Yes, sir. He tells me to raise him up a new army to expand his kingdom. That’s the way they do business over there. Things are going great guns. Some of the natives even say I’m a god. But then I get the surprise of my life. The British army occupies Kabul and is getting ready to go to war. They refuse to recognize my power. Instead they bring back a king they like to power. They ruined everything so I came home.”
“Too bad. Maybe you would be a good prince.”
“Except for the fool British. But I’ll have the last laugh. My book is going to tell the truth about those bloody imperialists. I’m one of the few that is willing to take them to task. I’ll show those bloody blighters a thing or two. Sorry for my nasty words but at least I call them by their own names.”
Tired of the driver’s rants, Rudolph tried to learn more about him on a personal level. “Did you ever find a wife?” Surely domestic issues would promote a more positive response he thought.
“Not yet. I’m a Quaker. And since they kicked me out for not being a pacifist when I was in Afghanistan not very many of the Quakers have anything to do with me, including the women. But they make the best wives so I’ll bide my time. Has to be one of them who’ll take me. You would think that they could forgive and forget. They need to understand that when in India, you do as the natives do.”
Harlan then listened to Rudolph’s tale of hunting down Thomas. Impressed, he praised him. He then warned him of what awaited him at his destination.
“Be sure to watch your step with Bates. If you’re not careful he’ll talk you right into staying on at his place. Don’t do it. He can be a mean one. He would have made a good general in my army over there.”
It was late evening when Rudolph jumped down from Harlan’s buggy at the entrance to the Bates’ farm. Several dogs howled and awakened James, who hurried outside to see what was provoking them. He spotted Rudolph, who was trying to befriend three of the canines that had come over to inspect him.
“What you want this time of night, stranger?” James lifted his lantern to get a better view of the intruder.
“I am looking for Thomas Schmidt, sir.”
“And who might you be?”
“Rudolph Stein.”
Two months earlier James had listened to Thomas’ version of the figh
t and his fears that a family member of the deceased might one day track him down.
“You got a dead brother that Thomas kilt in a fight?”
“That’s why I am here. I have to tell Thomas that my brother was only hurt. He didn’t die.”
“Hmmm. You wait here.” James called out to the dogs to follow him.
“Okay. I won’t move.” What a day. First that woman on the train would not be quiet but had to tell me all about her children. Then Mr. Harlan gave me a history lesson of the faults of the British. Now this slave does not believe me. I wonder how Thomas will act. I hope he can stay calm while I explain everything to him.
James returned to the small house that he shared with the male servants. After rousing Thomas, he repeated what he had been told.
“Maybe he is saying that so he can shoot me when I go out?”
“Could be. Tell you what. I’ll go first and hold a pitchfork on him. He try anything and I poke him before he can shoot you.”
“Okay.”
James stopped at the tool shed and armed himself with the biggest pitchfork. He then returned to Rudolph and pointed it at his chest.
“Thomas and me ain’t convinced yet. So you hold your hands up real high so he can talk to you and be safe.”
“But…” As James jabbed the pitchfork toward his belly Rudolph complied.
Thomas crept forward and spoke from a distance in German. “Hello, Rudolph.”
“Thomas. How are you? I thought I would never find you.” He replied in English.
“How do you know English so well?”
“I have been in