Thread: Home From War (Dr. Curiosity&Sweet Angel Jocelyn)

Anthony was now vaguely engaged in conversation with a store keeper interested in buying grain directly supplied from Richardson farm. Anthony Richardson Sr. had intentionally made himself scarce, leaving his eldest to handle family business as he conversed with friends on less pressing matters. Half listening to the proposition, the Corporal was scanning the crowd futilely, becoming upset with himself the longer he looked. Would he really even be able to find Susanna in this crowd? It didn't help that whenever he caught somebody's eyes they had to wave in delight, distracting him from his purpose. So how does that sound Master Richardson? Said the elderly shopkeeper, cutting into Anthony's thoughts. Mr. Buchwald was a kind enough man, who kept a fair business to everybody. He was a stout man with gray, thinning hair, and traces of built muscle after years of loading his own boxes and shifting his own cargo. His eyes were a bright blue, showing the kindness in his heart, and it emanated from his persona. Does it seem a fair enough offer? It sounds grand Mr. Buchwald? Anthony replied, acting as though he had been listening intently. He did know the point of the general conversation. The store owner wanted to purchase grain off of one of Richardson estates many fields, and was willing to pay a high rate, and supply his own workers to cut the stocks. The deal would be a no win situation for Anthony's family. Why don't you come by the manor in the morning, and we can discuss it more with my father present. How does that sound? Splendid sir, I will be by in the morning certainly. Wait until Mary Lou hears about this. With that, the old man walked away with a bit more purpose in his step. Anthony could only smile, especially since he knew Mary Lou. A newcomer would assume it was Buchwald's wife, but locals knew it to be an old mule that the shopkeeper favored even to people. It wasn't his fault, as he had lost his wife in a tragic fire years ago, and decided he would never give his heart to another person, so he went with a pack mule. When their conversation had ended, Anthony was reunited by his father, who acted as though he had been in deep conversation with another man over the consistency of white to red wine. Was there even a difference? If so, Anthony wouldn't have known. Even so, Anthony didn't complain, or even comment. Military men did not whine, and as such Corporal Richardson wouldn't be one to start. A person never did truly lose their rank. After all, one didn't forget the training, so why would anything else be different? He walked with his father, greeting some of the more 'important' people in town, as Richardson Sr. called them. They were only dubbed this because they held business with the family. That did make them important though, even to Anthony. He would be taking over the family empire soon, and he did not want to create the impression that he was against running the family. Meeting them all, Anthony went into business mode, remembering names and faces with ease. Stuart Riley, a tall ginger man, was a major buyer of corn, and picked up shipments weekly while the crop was in harvest. He had also suggested a bean section be cut into their fields, as demand was rapidly growing. It was still being taken into account. Another was a Mr. Gerald Phillips, who supplied fertilizer for a more than reasonable price. This was a key man in Mr. Richardson's eyes, as quality crop could not be supplied without the minerals in this man's trade. He also but mass supplies of corn, in attempt to use it as mass production food for his cattle, something that did not seem to be as successful as he might have thought. He was persistent though, and bought the crop whenever there was some to spare after major shipments were put out. There were also many more. More than Anthony cared to count in fact, and he had taken the time to meet and discuss business with all of them. With a first impression like the one Anthony had given, he was sure he would not be losing business when it was his time to run the trade. It also hadn't escaped his notice the wide-eyed dazed handshakes received from several, mostly the people he had met in his younger days. It wasn't everyday a person returned from the grave as handsome as Anthony had. How many years had it been, Anthony wondered. Well over four he thought. He had been seventeen when he left. Maybe four years since, maybe five. He would have to check a calender. The only thing he knew was that he was well over twenty. Twenty one perhaps, even twenty two. Seconds later, Anthony realized he was being pulled by his hand by a little old woman, much to the protest of Mr. Richardson. No, Mrs. Bralow, we don't need to go speak to him. His father had a very worried tone of voice, making Anthony wonder where this woman was dragging him. Mrs. Barlow had been the county school teacher at one point, but her old age and fading memory had forced her to quit. Now, she rambled on any pour soul she crossed, forcing her epiphanies upon them the moment they hit her. So what could she remember that made this tiny, skeleton of a woman drag Anthony around the festival? Nonsense Berton, their the only two veterans of this war, they should get to know each other. Mr. Landry as a good man. Obviously she couldn't remember Mr. Richardson name, but her goal had yet to slip her mind. She cut through the crowds very rudely, jabbing people aside with bony elbows and pitiful attempts at excuse me's, which came out more like Move! and Your in the way!. Anthony could only whisper apologies as he was dragged, and finally brought to a stop. Mr. Landry, it's good to see you again. I'd like you to meet Mr. Anthony Richardson. Anthony was puzzled. He knew he had heard that last name before, he just wasn't unable to place it. Hoping a face might help, he stepped forward like a man, greeting the man. It didn't help. First Private Paul Landry. A pleasure to meet you. He held out his hand, and Anthony took it kindly, shaking it firmly. The name didn't register at all. The only thing that Anthony took in was that he would be this man, who was perhaps a decade or so years his senior, senior officer. Corporal Anthony Richardson. Anthony liked speaking with more authority, and took his time looking the man over. His battalion must have had release already, which could only make Anthony wonder how long he had been imprisoned. I'd also like you to meet my wife, Susanna Landry. Come here, dear. The name cut Anthony like a knife, and it took all his effort to stop himself from swaying. As he watched the man grab his wife by the arm, and pulling her in what might have been an innocent pull, but Anthony noticed the vice grip of Paul's hand as he pulled Susanna, the love of his life . Susanna, this is Anthony Richardson, say hello. Hearing the name again was a stab through the heart. So it was true, Susanna had married another, so she must have been happy. There was no purpose for Anthony anymore. No reason that he should have clung to life. He wished that the farmer had let him die out in the field, or the stray bullet hadn't whizzed passed his head, but hit it's mark. The entire crowd was now watching, most of them knowing the history of Anthony Richardson and Susanna Littlefield. No, not Littlefield. Landry now. They had been in love. More in love than any man and woman could ever be, but she had moved on without him, and fell in love with another. Holding back tears, Anthony nodded at the woman through constantly blinking eyes. A pleasure, he said, holding out his hand once again, now for Susanna to take.