He Will Restore

chapter six

Chapter Six

Russell Allison was very careful when he wound the clock on th mantle in the great room of Allison's Stand. His was the only hotel in Baxter, and a staging stop along the Nashville and Sparta Roads. He did a fair to middling business most months. November was unusually busy, what with families traveling for the holidays, and drummers heading back to their home territories before the snow set in, making the mountains impassable in parts. There were also occasional tourists, heading towards the mineral springs. Some of them would go all the way out to Red Boiling Springs clean to Macon County. Russell didn't care why they came, so long as they spent their money.

In the last three weeks, the Stand had been putting people in every available bed, sometimes three and four to a bed, and had even been putting palates on the floor in the great room on two or three nights. He had just taken on a new girl to help out in the kitchen, and had put in his order for extra whiskey from the flatboat captain on his next trip.

Allison thought about the whiskey. Since he had quit buying from the Brassell boys, and had begun getting that new sipping whiskey from Lynchburg, his business had definitely improved. Even with paying the taxes on each bottle, he was making more money on his commissary than on lodging. He hoped the county never decided to charge a license fee for serving liquor.

He could hear the team of horses in the distance as the nightly stage rolled down from Cookeville. No telling how many would be on it, and no telling how many mouths there would be to feed. He looked at the clock he had just wound. Hmm. They were a little early. No matter. If supper wasn't ready, that would give the gentlemen more time to step out back and sample a taste of his Lynchburg specialty.

He turned the clock around, and opened the small door on the back. He hung the winding key on the hook inside, and checked the leather bag of gold coins he kept there. All as it should be. He closed the door, and gently turned the clock so as not to disturb it's pendulum.

'Maisie! Coach is coming. Best get some vittles ready.' Out of habit, Allison called to the kitchen maid. He knew she'd already have food ready for the appointed time, and plenty of it. But he felt he wasn't doing his job if he didn't make the announcement they way his father had.

Russell Allison had inherited the Stand from his father. John Allison Senior was a large, blustery man, given to stern words and a generous heart. His younger son, Russell, followed him into the family business, while the elder brother, John Junior, preferred life in town.

Both men had excellent business acumen, and neither were afraid to make changes. John had been adding new lines of imported goods to his store. He made it a point to keep some specialty items on hand for the well off people in the county, granted, he did most of his trade with the farmers and laboring families, but there were also those, like the Isbells and the Bohanons who expected slightly better treatment and trade than the working class. Why, just last week he had some Amanda Isbell twenty yards of imported Italian silk..

Russell was working on upgrading his Stand. His father had kept the family business in the black ever since the war ended. But it was never a thriving business. Not until Russell took over. Even now, he was trying to figure out how to put up a separate lodging on the property for the working class, and to keep the main house, the Stand itself, for people of quality. He never figured that would work. No, East Tennessee was just too egalitarian for that. The only ones who would appreciate his efforts were those who would most benefit: the ones who could pay the best. He was doing everything he could to make the Stand appeal more to the monied classes, even to affecting the appearance of an English landlord, complete with an apron whenever his guests arrived. Not that he had ever been to England. Someone told him about it once, and he talked to his father and brother, who agreed it sounded right. So now, he wore a white canvas apron, no matter how much he hated it.

The team skidded to a stop in the yard. Russell could hear the driver yelling orders to the hostlers as they pulled the pins on the traces and led the team away. Allison shrugged into his jacket, straightened his apron and pulled open the door.

'Welcome, welcome, weary travelers!' Russell held his arms wide, his apron flapping in the chill autumn evening. 'Hurry, friends. There is a warm fire, hearty fare and soft beds awaiting you. Come into the Stand and take your ease.' No matter how many times a week he greeted his guests, his speech never wavered. Even in summer he promised a 'warm fire'. People seemed to enjoy that sort of thing.

Three passengers stepped from the interior of the coach. Two women, one obviously the maid to the other, and an older man who appeared to be a drummer. Allison saw a younger, more roughly dressed man climb down from his perch on top. Not one of the drivers or guards. Another passenger then, who didn't have the coin to purchase a seat inside. Russell's nose wrinkled at the smell that emanated from the man's clothing told him that he would need to save faster in order to segregate this element from his more prosperous patrons.

Supper was simple that night: a hearty stew, hot biscuits and pudding made from corn meal and cider for dessert. Only one lady and the gentleman from inside the coach graced the Allison table that night. The ragged traveler and the maid ate in the kitchen. Allison learned that the man had come along to tend the gentleman's horse who was tethered to the back of the coach, and he intended sleep in the barn with his charge.

The patrons were getting settled for the night when the front door opened. A young black man, too young to remember the bondage of his parents, stood in the doorway, stomping his feet, as if to knock off invisible snow. 'I be looking for Mr. Allison,' he called across the great room.

'I'm Allison.'

'Mr Isbell said I should give you this.' He handed a folded piece of paper over and vanished out the door as quickly as he had appeared.

Allison opened the paper carefully, as if anticipating something unpleasant might be within. 'Will be arriving on the 29th. Please have a room available for me.'