By Elaine Dawkins
December 3, 1828……..The conversation took a new turn now and I realize, thereafter, that my disguise may have been a little too good.
The man who talked with me concluded that I was a native to the area, but that I seemed to be floundering. After asking the previous question, he called over his friend and he too joined us. The one who had first come over, looked to be in his mid-sixties and had a strangely mixed personality consisting of a creepy-slyness and a kind-grandfatherly demeanor. He now introduced himself by the name of Fagin and his younger friend by the name of Bill. I found Bill to be an odd sort of companion whose personality meshed with the elderly gentleman's like oil and water. He was unmistakably a gruff sort with a taste for the hard and brute. But, all in all, they seemed undisturbed by such inconsistencies.
"What line of business are you in, my dear?" Fagin asked, folding his hands upon the table in a serious manner and leaning toward me.
"I am unemployed." This was the only answer that made since. I could not say honestly that I worked for a government agency. I could not come up with any sort of made-up work for fear of more questions and also, I didn't really know of any legal occupations in the area.
Fagin gave a quick glance over at Bill, closed his eyes, and began nodding at me in a knowing way that scared me more than the leer given by Bill. Now I really knew I was getting caught up in something that I should not be caught up in. But, what was I to do? I was pretty sure neither of them had written the note and no one else had shown up or left any clues.
"I thought just so….," Fagin said in a lofty thoughtfulness. He then opened his eyes and looked over at his friend.
Bill narrowed his eyes and shook his head as though they were having a silent debate---about me, no doubt.
"Ah, think about the possibilities, Bill."
"What er yer thinking?" Bill exclaimed. He slammed down his mug of whisky and pulled his sleeve across his filthy mouth.
"Hush, hush, my dear….," Fagin stole a look at the barman and put his hand on Bill's shoulder as a warning.
The elderly gentleman now turned his eyes back to me and continued the conversation as though it had never been broken.
"Would you like a nice, little job, my dear? We have an opening…. room and board included….pay also of course. No extras though - like health care. Ha, ha, ha….!" He leaned back in his chair and smiled at his own joke. Bill even joined in this time with a low, gravelly laugh and then took another draught of ale.
"What sort of job?" I had not joined in with the jest and the other two quickly settled down again.
"A job where yer just might get ahold o' some property worth a bit," Bill took another draught and set down his mug, smirking.
I didn't know what to do. I couldn't day 'no' because they were criminals—obviously—and I was sure that they would not mind doing me in. I said that I was interested and left it at that. I continued to look solemn and haughty so that they would respect me and not try to cross me. Oh, how I wish someone else could have been chosen to come down here!
"Interested, my dear?" Fagin looked imploringly at me as though I was his last hope. He sighed and made like he would leave.
"Alright, when and where do you want me?" I wanted to run out of there as fast as I could, but that would be an idiotic thing to do! So, I went along with it hoping it would not be the end of me or my career.
"That would be Bill's domain…," the elderly gentleman waved his hand in Bill's direction as he spoke and then fell silent, looking at the table.
"Well," began Bill, "Hows about we meet down by Henderson Creek at midnight. Yer know where that is right?" I nodded and he proceeded, "On the north side down by the bridge. Can yer bring a pistol?"
"Yes, I have one. Not on me now, though!!" Bill had drawn his hand toward his right pocket as I said this. Fagin simply stared at the table and showed no other sign. Bill now removed his hand and leered. I leered back and, for the first time, forced (what I hope was) an aloof laugh.
Fagin looked back up and smiled, "Now Bill, my dear, you almost met your match!" He then decided that business was concluded and offered to buy me a brandy. I accepted gratefully (I needed a drink badly!) and we all drank a toast.
"Now, what was your name, my dear?"
I choked a little on my brandy, but gave an answer none the less, "Thomas."
"Maybe 'Tom' for short," mused Fagin, "Better in case of trouble that the name be short and easy to remember," he took a sip of his drink.
"Now see this brandy?" he continued, "That is how I knew you needed a job, my dear. No one, no not one person comes in here without buying a drink unless he is down on his luck. And you, my dear, are one of those. I am a generous man and I pity those like you." Fagin downed the rest of his scotch and got up to leave. Bill stayed seated as though he were staying. I stood up, extremely ready to go. Fagin held out his hand to shake and I grasped it. Bill seemed fairly uninterested and merely looked into the bottom of his glass.
"Thank you, my dear. Lovely to meet a man such as yourself," he gave a small bow and put on his hat.
We both made for the door. I slipped out after the elderly gentleman and went on my way quickly, hoping to God that Bill would not come out and shoot me with his pistol.