Nowhere to Hide

Late in the afternoon, he sighted a town along his path. Having gained confidence from successfully piloting though the village earlier in the day, he rode Nimrod directly toward the hamlet, almost daring anyone to speak to him. Looking eastward, he noticed a small gathering of parishioners in front of what looked to be a church near the far end of the dirt street. They gathered around a notification board that many small villages rely upon to convey important information. As he approached, he noticed a substantial placard with the word Wanted in bold, prominent letters. Could it be that news of his crime had already spread here from Turin? He suspected that his crime, so dastardly to Presbyterians would undoubtedly travel quickly, but he doubted the news would trek as rapidly as he could upon Nimrod. It is true that notification boards post official announcements! They must have found him out! How did they expose him so soon? He did not recall any riders overtaking him. Word must have traveled by some other path! Panic gripped him again. His mind raced. “Yes, that’s it. I’ve just been taking my time, leisurely traveling when I should have been sprinting like the wind. Oh, I am such a fool!” As he had not commanded Nimrod to change path or gait, the trusty mount steadily approached the Presbyterian Church as a condemned man might to the hangman’s noose. The distance narrowed and he plainly saw many characteristics of the people gathered at the vestibule. A rather large woman wore a flowered bonnet. A skinny man was dressed in a dark, homespun suit. A hunched-backed man, whose bent posture allowed only small steps, hopped about the crowd’s periphery. Others, too, gazed upon the notices. All the people appeared disturbingly familiar. Could they all hail from this tiny hamlet…or possibly Turin? “That’s an incredible amount of money!” the large woman said in a manly, booming voice that echoed from the church’s clapboard siding. Her voice and words made his blood run cold. “Can you ever imagine doing such a thing?” the thin man asked a younger gentleman standing nearby. The younger man replied, “Money drives desperate men to desperate acts, even to selling their bodies and souls into everlasting damnation.” Panic tightened its grip upon Jeduthan’s chest. His fingers froze about the reins. He could not loosen his hold upon the leather. Fear of detection forced him to lower his head, hiding his eyes and face in shame with the brim of his hat. An unseen bystander whistled and said, “I never heard of such, not in all my born days, unbelievable! So much money!” “It’s a hideous crime!” shouted another old man in the crowd who looked amazingly similar to Jeduthan’s father. Within moments, Jeduthan must ride past these same people who surely would know the actual reason why he had left Turin in a frantic hurry. They would turn, recognize him, yank him from his horse, and condemn him. His brief breath of freedom had ended. Whether they returned him for trial in Turin or simply lynched him here, in this isolated village and under the church’s eaves, did not matter. Either way, he was doomed. He could not escape! “I admit it!” he yelled, his deep voice rumbling through the village. “I took the money! But, I deserved it! It was rightfully mine!” The townspeople stood motionless, shocked by his words. Wordlessly and with one accord, they grabbed at him. The large woman’s fingernails sank deep into the skin of his forearm, causing blood to trickle forth. The skinny man grabbed at his waist, jerking him roughly down from his horse. Thrown to the ground, the bent man, using his strong legs and feet repeatedly kicked at him, bruising his torso. Others, nameless and faceless, chanted hysterically, “Lynch him! Kill him! Throw him in jail!” Jeduthan attempted a meek defense. “The church never paid me! I was faithful for three long years! I have a wife and family to feed, clothe, and provide for! I have expenses! I did my best! Please spare me!” A young boy ran in front of old Nimrod, startling the beast into an abrupt halt only a few yards short and slightly behind the crowd peering at the notice board. The nightmare of the few minutes before had not occurred. His words, along with the crowd’s insults, were only imagined fears. Most citizens remained focused on the announcement board, some continuing a low unintelligible mumble between themselves. A few young boys played fetch with an excited dog. He glanced toward both flanks, perceiving that in the world’s reality, no one had moved, no one had accosted him. No one noticed him as he approached. No one knew his name or his crime. No one recognized his face or discerned the distinctively nervous sweat on his body. No one cared. Hiding on the Canal Jeduthan dismounted his horse and approached the gathered town folk. From ground level, the crowd did not look nearly as hostile as he had imagined only a few moments before. The large woman donning the flowered bonnet radiated a pleasant child-like smile, while the stooped man flashed a genuinely pleasant toothy grin. The nervous sweat that had streamed from his brow quickly abated as his anxiety eased and he regained a sense of calm. Approaching the bulletin posted on the village notice board, he investigated the announcement more closely. Below the bold and prominent WANTED were inscribed the words, Able Bodied Men... These three words resonated through his mind. Able Bodied Men! This notice was not about some fugitive criminal or desperate rogue, but rather an advertisement for laborers! He nudged his way forward, weaving through the assembled onlookers in order to read the details written in smaller letters upon the posted sheet. Erie Canal Company will pay a fair wage for laborers. No experience necessary. Apply at canal right-of-way.