Alvin Journeyman: The Tales of Alvin Maker, Volume IV Read online

  Murmurs from several of the men assented to the proposition.

  “Are you crazy? Why would I go to all this trouble? I’m not an Unmaker, boys, you know that, but if I was, don’t you think I could tear up these pumps a lot more thoroughly without taking half so much trouble?”

  Taleswapper cleared his throat. “Perhaps you and I ought to talk alone about this, Alvin.”

  “They’re accusing me of wrecking all their hard work and it ain’t so!” said Alvin.

  “Ain’t nobody accusin’ nobody of nothin’,” said Winter Godshadow. “God follows all. God sees all deeds.”

  Usually when Winter got into his God-talking moods, the others would sort of back off and pretend to be busy paring their nails or something. But not this time—this time they were nodding and murmuring their agreement.

  “Like I said, Alvin, let’s you and me have a word. In fact, I think we ought to go on up to the house and talk to your father and mother.”

  “Talk to me right here,” said Alvin. “I’m not some little boy to be taken out behind the woodshed and given a licking in private. If I stand accused of something that everybody knows about except me . . .”

  “We ain’t accusing,” said Nils. “We’re pondering.”

  “Pondering,” echoed a couple of the others.

  “Tell me here and now what you’re pondering,” said Alvin. “Because whatever I’m accused of, if it’s true I want to make it right, and if it’s false I want to set it straight.”

  They looked at each other back and forth, until finally Alvin turned to Taleswapper. “You tell me.”

  “I only repeat tales that I believe to be true,” said Taleswapper. “And this one I believe to be a flat-out lie told by a dreamy-hearted girl.”

  “Girl? What girl?” and then, putting together Goody Sump’s behavior and what Clevy Sump had done to the pumps, and remembering the dreamy expression in one girl’s eyes when she sat there in the children’s class paying no intelligent attention to a thing that Alvin said, he jumped to a certain conclusion and whispered her name. “Amy.”

  To Alvin’s consternation, some of the men took the fact that he came up with her name as proof that Amy was telling the truth about whatever it was she had said. “See?” they murmured. “See?”

  “I’m done with this,” said Nils. “I’m done. I’m a farmer. Corn and hogs, that’s my knack if I have me any.” When he left, several other men went with him.

  Alvin turned to the others. “I don’t know what I’m accused of, but I can promise you this, I’ve done nothing wrong. In the meantime, it’s plain there’s no use in holding class today, so let’s all go home. I reckon there’s a way to salvage every one of these pumps, so your work isn’t lost. We’ll get back to it tomorrow.”

  As they left, some of the men touched Alvin’s shoulder or punched his arm to show their support. But some of the support was of a kind he didn’t much like. “Can’t hardly blame you, pretty little calf-eyed thing like that.” “Women is always reading more into things than a man means.”

  Finally Alvin was alone with Taleswapper.

  “Don’t look at me,” said Taleswapper. “Let’s go on up to the house and see if your father’s heard the stories yet.”

  When they got there, it was like a family council was already in session. Measure, Armor-of-God, and Father and Mother were all gathered around the kitchen table. Arthur Stuart was kneading dough—small as he was, he was good with bread and liked doing it, so Mother had finally given in and admitted that a woman could still be mistress of her own house even if somebody else made the bread.

  “Glad you’re here, Al,” said Measure. “You’d think a piece of silliness like this would just get laughed out of town. I mean, these folks should know you.”

  “Why should they?” asked Mother. “He’s been gone most of the past seven years. When he left he was a scrub-size boy who’d just spent a year running around the countryside with a Red warrior. When he come back he was full of power and majesty and scared the pellets out of all the bunny-hearts around here. What do they know of his character?”

  “Would somebody please tell me what this is about?” Alvin said.

  “You mean they haven’t?” asked Father. “They were powerful quick to tell your mother and Measure and Armor-of-God.”

  Taleswapper chuckled. “Of course they didn’t tell Alvin. Those who believe the tale assume he already knows. And those who don’t believe it are plain ashamed that anyone could say such silly slander.”

  Measure sighed. “Amy Sump told her friend Ramona, and Ramona told her mama, and her mama went straight to Goody Sump, and she went straight to her husband, and he like to went crazy because he can’t conceive that every male creature larger than a mouse isn’t hottin’ up after his nubian daughter.”

  “Nubile,” Alvin corrected him.

  “Yeah yeah,” said Measure. “I know, you’re the one who reads the books, and now’s sure the time to correct my grammar.”

  “Nubians are Black Africans,” said Alvin. “And Amy ain’t no Black near as I can figure.”

  “This might be a good time to shut up and listen,” said Measure.

  “Yes sir,” said Alvin.

  “If only you had left when that torch girl sent you that warning,” said Mother. “It’s a plain fool who stays inside a burning house because he wants to see the color of the flames.”

  “What’s Amy saying about me?” asked Alvin.

  “Pure nonsense,” said Father. “About you running off in the Red way, a hundred miles in a night through the woods, taking her to a secret lake where you swum nekkid and other such indecencies.”

  “With Amy?” asked Alvin, incredulous.

  “Meaning that you’d do it with someone else?” asked Measure.

  “I’d do such a thing with nobody,” said Alvin. “Ain’t decent, and besides, there ain’t enough unbroken living forest these days to get a hundred miles in a night. I can’t make half so good a speed through fields and farms. The greensong gets noisy and busted up and I get too tired trying to hear it and why is anybody believing such silliness?”

  “Because they think you can do anything,” said Measure.

  “And because a good number of these men have noticed Amy filling out of late,” said Armor-of-God, “and they know that if they had the power, and if Amy was as moony toward them as she plainly is toward you, they’d have her naked in a lake in two seconds flat.”

  “You’re too cynical about human nature,” said Taleswapper. “Most of these fellows are the wishing kind. But they know Alvin is a doer, not just a wisher.”

  “I hardly noticed her except to think she was sure slow to learn, considering how tight she seemed to pay attention,” said Alvin.

  “To you she was paying attention. Not to what you said or taught,” said Measure.

  “Well it ain’t so. I didn’t do anything to her or with her, and. . .”

  “And even if you did it would be plain disaster if you married her,” said Mother.

  “Married her!” cried Alvin.

  “Well of course if it was true, you’d have to marry her,” said Father.

  “But it ain’t true.”

  “You got any witnesses of that?” asked Measure.

  “Witnesses of what? How can I have witnesses that it didn’t happen? Everybody’s my witness—everybody didn’t see any such thing.”

  “But she says it happened,” said Measure. “And you’re the only other one who knows whether she’s lying or not. So either she’s a plain liar and you’re innocently accused, or she’s a brokenhearted lied-to seduced girl and you’re the cad who got the use of her and now won’t do the decent thing, and nobody can prove either way.”

  “So you don’t even believe me?”

  “Of course we believe you,” said Father. “Do you think we’re insane? But our believing you ain’t any kind of evidence. Measure’s been reading law, and he explained it to us.”

  “Law?” asked Alvin
.

  “Well, afore you come home from Hatrack River, anyway. And now and then since. I reckon somebody in the family ought to know something about the law.”

  “But you mean you think this might come to court?”

  “Might,” said Measure. “That’s what the Sumps were saying. Get them a lawyer from Carthage City instead of one of the frontier lawyers as has a shingle out here in Vigor Church. Lots of publicity.”

  “But they can’t convict me of anything!”

  “Breach of promise. Indecent liberties with a child. All depends on how many jurors think that where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”

  “Indecent liberties with a . . .”

  “That one’s a hanging offense, all right,” said Measure. “But I hear that’s the charge that Clevy wants to bring.”

  “Doesn’t matter if they convict you or not,” said Taleswapper.

  “Matters to me,” said Mother.

  “Either way, the tale will spread. Alvin the so-called Maker, taking advantage of young girls. You can’t let this go to trial,” said Taleswapper.

  Alvin saw at once how such rumors, such publicity as a trial would bring, it would bring down his work, make it impossible to attract others to come and learn Making at Vigor Church.

  Not that he was doing much good teaching Making anyway.

  “Miss Larner,” murmured Alvin.

  “Yep,” said Taleswapper. “She warned you. Leave now freely, or leave later because you have to.”

  “Why should he be driven from his own home just because a horny lying little . . .” Mother’s voice trailed off.

  Alvin sat in the ensuing silence, recognizing his foolishness. “I spose I’m a plain fool for not heeding Miss Larner.” And then, stiffening his back, he closed his eyes and said, “There’s another way. So I don’t have to leave at all.”

  “What’s that?” asked Measure.

  “I could marry her.”

  “No!” cried Mother and Father at once.

  “Why not just sign a confession?” asked Armor-of-God.

  “You can’t marry her,” said Measure.

  “It’s what she wants,” said Alvin. “You can bet she’d say yes, and her father and mother would have to agree to it.”

  “Agree to it—and then despise you ever after,” said Father.

  “Doesn’t matter about his reputation or what people think of him or anything, compared to this,” said Measure. “Waking up every morning and seeing Amy Sump in bed next to you, and knowing the only reason she’s there is because she slandered you—tell me what kind of home you’ll make, the two of you, for your babies?”

  Alvin thought about that for a moment and nodded. “I guess marriage ain’t much of a solution. More like starting a whole new set of problems.”

  “Ah, good,” said Father. “I was afraid we’d raised us a fool.”

  “So I sneak off like a thief, and everybody reckons Amy was telling the truth and I ran off.”

  “Not likely,” said Measure. “We’ll let it be known that you left because your work is too important to be distracted by this nonsense. You’ll be back when Amy starts telling the truth, and in the meantime, you’ll be studying up on . . . whatever. Learning something.”

  “Learning how to build the Crystal City,” murmured Taleswapper.

  They all looked at him.

  “You don’t know how, do you, Alvin?” asked Taleswapper. “While you’re busy trying to make Makers out of these people, you don’t even know yourself what the Crystal City really is, or how to make it.”

  Alvin nodded. “That’s right.”

  “So . . . it isn’t even a lie,” said Taleswapper. “You do have much to learn, and you’re overdue to learn it. Why, you’re even grateful to Amy for showing you that you’ve been hanging around here far too long. Measure’s been learning right good. He’s far enough ahead of the others that he can go on teaching in your absence. And him being a married man, no schoolgirl’s going to get some foolish notion about him”

  “I don’t know,” said Measure. “I’m pretty cute.”

  “You have my bags packed yet, Taleswapper?” asked Alvin.

  “Ain’t as if you need much luggage,” said Taleswapper. “You’re going to be traveling small and fast. I reckon there’s only one burden that will weigh you down much. A certain farm implement.”

  “I couldn’t leave it here?” asked Alvin.

  “Not safe,” said Taleswapper. “Not safe for your family, to have the rumor get about that the Maker is gone but he left the golden plow behind.”

  “Not safe for him to have the rumor say he took it with him,” said Mother.

  “Nobody on this planet is safer than Alvin, if he wants to be,” said Measure.

  “So I just pick up the plow, put it in a gunnysack, and head on out?” asked Alvin.

  “That’s about the best plan,” said Armor-of-God. “Though I bet your ma will insist on you taking some salt pork with you, and a change of clothes.”

  “And me.”

  They all turned to the source of the small piping voice.

  “He’s taking me with him,” said Arthur Stuart.

  “You’d only slow him down, boy,” said Father. “You got a good heart, but short legs.”

  “He ain’t in no hurry,” said Arthur, “specially figuring as he don’t know where he’s going.”

  “The point is you’d be in the way,” said Armor-of-God. “He’d always have to be thinking of you, trying to keep you out of harm’s way. There’s plenty of places in this land where a free half-Black boy is going to get folks’ dander up, and that won’t be much help to Alvin either.”

  “You’re talking like you think you got a choice,” said Arthur. “But if Alvin goes, I go, and that’s it. You can lock me in a closet, but someday I’ll get out and then I’ll follow him and find him or die trying.”

  They all looked at him in consternation. Arthur Stuart had been near silent since coming to Vigor after his adopted mother was murdered back in Hatrack River. Silent but hardworking, cooperative, obedient. This was a complete surprise, this attitude from him.

  “And besides,” said Arthur Stuart, “while Alvin’s busy looking after the whole world, I’ll be there to look after him”

  “I think the boy should go,” said Measure. “The Unmaker plainly ain’t done with Alvin yet. He needs somebody to watch his back. I think Arthur’s got it in him.”

  And that was pretty much it. Nobody could size up a fellow like Measure could.

  Alvin walked to the hearth and pried up four stones. Nobody would have guessed that anything was hid under them, because until he raised the stones there wasn’t so much as a crack in the mortar. He didn’t dig in the earth under the stones; the plow was buried eight feet deep, and shoveling would have taken all day, not to mention the dismantling of the entire hearth. No, he just held out his hands and called to the plow, and willed the earth to float it up to him. A moment later, the plow bobbed to the surface of the soil like a cork on a still pond. Alvin could hear a couple of sharp breaths behind him—it still got to folks, even his own family, when he showed his knack so openly. Also, the gold had such a luster to it. As if, even in the pitch black of the darkest moonless stormy night, that plow would still be visible, the gold burning its way even through your closed eyelids to imprint its shining life straight onto your eyes, straight into your brain. The plow trembled under Alvin’s hand.

  “We got us a journey to take,” Alvin murmured to the warm gold. “And maybe along the way we’ll figure out what I made you for.”

  An hour later, Alvin stood at the back door of the house. Not that it took him an hour to pack—he’d spent most of the time down at the mill, fixing the pumps. Nor had he spent any of the time on farewells. They hadn’t even sent word to any of the family that he was going, because word would get out and the last thing Alvin needed was for folks to be lying in wait for him when he headed into the forest. Mother and Father and Measure and Armor would have
to carry his words of love and Godblessyou to his brothers and sisters and nieces and nephews.

  Alvin hitched the bag with the plow and his change of clothes in it over his shoulder. Arthur Stuart took his other hand. Alvin scanned the hexes he’d laid in place around the house and made sure they were still perfect in their sixness, undisturbed by wind or meddling. All was in order. It was the only thing he could do for his family in his absence, was to keep wardings about to fend off danger.

  “Don’t you worry about Amy, neither,” said Measure. “Soon as you’re gone, she’ll notice some other strapping boy and pretty soon the dreams and stories will be about him and folks’ll realize that you never done nothing wrong.”

  “Hope you’re right,” said Alvin. “Because I don’t intend to stay away for long.”

  Those words hung in the silence for a moment, because they all knew if was quite possible that this time Alvin might be gone for good. Might never come home. It was a dangerous world, and the Unmaker had plainly gone to some trouble to get Alvin out of here and onto the road.

  He kissed and hugged all around, taking care not to let the heavy plow smack into anybody. And then he was off for the woods behind the house, sauntering so as to give anyone watching him the impression that this was just a casual errand he was on, and not some life-changing escape. Arthur Stuart had ahold of his left hand again. And to Alvin’s surprise, Taleswapper fell into step right beside him.

  “You coming with me, then?” asked Alvin.

  “Not far,” said Taleswapper. “Just to talk a minute.”

  “Glad to have you,” said Alvin.

  “I just wondered if you’ve given any thought to finding Peggy Larner,” said Taleswapper.

  “Not even for a second,” said Alvin.

  “What, are you mad at her? Hell, boy, if you’d just listened to her . . .”

  “You think I don’t know that? You think I haven’t been thinking of that this whole time?”

  “I’m just saying that you two was on the verge of marrying back there in Hatrack River, and you could do with a good wife, and she’s the best you’ll ever find.”

  “Since when do you meddle?” asked Alvin. “I thought you just collected stories. I didn’t think you made them happen.”