Disclaimer: These are works of fan-fiction created for entertainment. It is not the intention of the author to infringe on anyone's copyright. No rights infringement intended. Warning: General Audience

The Sharpe Fan Fictions of Paul K.

---

Sharpe's Family

PART III

YORKSHIRE
October, 1792

Chapter 8

SEPTEMBER, 1788
LONDON, ENGLAND –

Richard moved cautiously and quickly along the streets that led north from the Rookery. He watched every doorway, hidden corner and alley to see if anyone was waiting to ambush him. He first followed routes that he and Jim Walsh used when they went to steal from coaches that were coming into the city. The streets were dark with many shadows, which made it easy for him to keep from being seen.

“Jim and I came this way. I think he called this Watling Street. Comes to the city from the north.”

Once or twice he stumbled on things hidden by the darkness, but did not fall or make noise. With Twee, he had learned that he could see fairly in the dark.

After an hour, he found that the buildings became more spread out. As the first light of day lit up the sky, he guessed that we going the right way. The morning light was behind his right shoulder. In the darkness, Richard had guessed which direction to take and had fortunately found a street that he knew. Jim had taught him how to tell directions by the sun. He moved with more assurance. But, with the sun to guide him, it also became harder and harder to stay in the dark or shadows. He hunched over as if to keep warm and continued to walk to the side of the road. After what he guessed was thirty minutes, he stopped for a short rest and to look back to the city. Not much traffic was on the road in either direction. Only a few carts were following him, and none of them coming fast as if in pursuit.

While he rested, his stomach rumbled , “What can I eat? I didn’t bring anything. Should be eatin’ breakfast. Need to sleep sometime too.”

Before he thought more about this, he looked back again to the city. Not too tired or hungry that I can’t go on. Need to go as far as I c’n today.”

With one more look, he turned then stepped off on the road.

As he was able to leave the view of London behind, he saw more and more carts, wagons coaches and riders come towards him from the north. As they got closer, he kept them from seeing his face by looking at his feet until they passed. He need not have worried. None of the passersby were interested in him. They too were trying to keep warm. Sometimes travelers would come from behind him. The coaches would sound a horn for him to move. Others would shout. He would step to the side to let them pass. None of them offered him a ride.

By the time the sun was nearly in the middle of the sky, he came upon a wagon with a broken wheel. The teamster was trying unsuccessfully to raise the axle to put the wheel back on. Richard tried to walk wide of the wagon. Before he reached the man, the wagoneer called out.

“Yung un!”

Richard ignored him.

“YUNG UN!”

This time, he turned to the man.

“Me?”

“Ya, ye. Who else is ‘ere now?”

“’Elp an old man, will ye? I need a strong back to lift this while I reset the wheel.”

Richard wanted to keep moving but decided to help. “Show me how.”

The wagoneer had found a strong tree branch and a large stone. Together the branch and stone were arranged as a lever under the wheelless axle. The wagoneer showed Richard how he wanted the lever branch to go. “When I tells ya, push down on this pry bar.until I tells ya to stop.”

Richard waited at the pry bar while the man, moved the wheel into position. He held the wheel near the axle.

“Push now, yung un.”

Richard pushed down with all his weight onto the bar. The axle rose in front of the man. When it passed the center hub of the wheel, the man called. “Hold it there!” Richard balanced on the branch while the man slid the wheel onto the axle. Quickly, he grabbed the hub nut that was next to him and put it onto the axle. After a few turns, he turned to Richard and smiled.

“Ye can stop now. Let the bar go up. Slow. Slow. That’s it.”

Richard let the bar up slowly. As he did the wagon’s weight settled onto the wheel.

The teamster looked at the wheel, then grabbed the rim to shake it. When he was satisfied that the wheel was good again, he said.

“Thank ‘e yung un.”

Sharpe nodded then started to walk away.

“Where ye going?”

Sharpe had learned of Yorkshire from Tom Lord. He often had mentioned Sheffield and cricket.

“Sheffield. I hope there ‘s better work than in London.”

“London to Sheffield to work. Now that 'tis something new. Most people go the other way. I’m going to Keighley, north of Sheffield. Want to ride as far as Sheffield. I make this trip too many times. It goes much better when I ‘ave someone to talk with.”

Richard knew that he would need to rest. Riding with this man would let him keep moving and rest. Some of the time,

“Yes, I want to ride” So he climbed next to the man.

“My name’s Robert Porter. People call me Bob.” To Richard, it sounded like he should call him ‘Bab’.

Before he could think about giving his real name to Bob, he said, “My name is Richard Sharpe. People call me Dick.”

“Well Dick, nice to meet ya.”

“How far is it to Sheffield?”

“’ere, we be near St. Albans. From St. Albans to Sheffield is more’n a ‘undred miles. It will take us three or four days. A lot more if’n ye walk, eh?”

Bob slaps the reins to the horses to get them going. As they ride north, he tells Richard about himself. He is about forty years old. He’d lived all his life in Keighley. He worked for one of the gentry as a teamster. Two times per month he drove a wagon full of cloth from the mills to the tailors in London.

Richard listens to him talk. It keeps him awake. He watches the land pass as they go. It is so green and open, not like anything he has ever known. Not even the park he went to once was this green and vast.

“Ya got family, Dick?”

“No, no family.”

“Who took care o’ ya?

“Lived on the streets. Did jobs for people.”

“Jobs? “

Richard doesn’t want to talk and he especially doesn’t want to talk about his time in the Rookery. Not sure how to answer, he told the truth. At least some of it.

“Picked oakum. Laundry. Worked dog pits.”

Sharpe’s answer seemed to satisfy Bob. Not long after, he asked another question. “How’d ye get yer name Dick?”

“My ma told me once about a puppet play about some lord of London who went from poor to rich because his cat could kill rats. She like his name. Thought it would be good luck for me.”

Bob laughs heartily. “she named ye after Dick Whittington? Good story, that one.”

“I think so. She liked the idea that someone can go from poor to rich. Thought giving me that name would bless me to rise up too. Don’t remember much. Was only three, maybe four, when she died.”

“Tis a good name, that. Richard. Who knows, maybe ye will earn a fortune someday. She could ‘ave given ye a much worse name and for a much worse reason. Didn’t name ye after yer pa?”

“Don’t know who my pa is?”

“Ah.” Bob says awkwardly.

Before Bob could ask another question, they reached the top of a rise in the road. Bob pointed. “There be St. Albans. Time we give the horses a rest.”

“Ya hungry?”

“Yes.”

“Ya got any money Dick?”

“Only a little.”

“Not far is a small market. They know me. Most times they charge the coach travelers two or three times what they do regulars like me. If’n ye trust me, I can buy for both o’ us. Can get good bread, meat and drink. Will ye trust me?”

Richard looks at him, thinks about his few coins then asks. “How much ye need?

“Give me a penny. I c’n get a feast for two pennies.” He beams. Most times I have only 1 penny for me.

“Here.” Richard hands him a penny.

Bob guides the horses to a space beside the road. He sets the brake on the wagon, then ties the reins around a tree .

“There

. The wagon should be safe for ya.”

Richard had jumped off the wagon when Bob did. He watched him secure the horses.

“Wait here.” He points to the back of the wagon. “Rest there, if’n ya want.”

Richard nods, then climbs into the bed of the wagon. Bob sets off towards the town.



Richard was asleep when Bob returned. Bob had surprised Richard with a meat pie and an apple for him. Richard was hungry. His meatpie was devoured before Bob had eaten half of his own. The apple was sweet and a bit tart, but tasted good after the salty pie. Richard could have eaten more if there had been more. While he waited for Bob to finish, he thought of another pie. After they ate, Bob unties the horses. “Time to go. We can go some more until sun goes down. I know a place we can sleep.”

Richard nods. The food and little sleep make him drowsy, but he is ready to put more distance between him and London.

The ride through St. Albans was slow as they had to make their way through people, carts and wagons in the streets. No one paid any attention to them. Even so, Richard kept his head tucked into his chest as they rode. Once they were away from other people he raised his head to look at the road ahead

“Hiding from somethin’, Dick?”

“What?”

“Are ya hidin’ from somethin’? Ya hunker down when people are aroun’.”

“No, just don’t like people lookin’ at me. “

“So ya say.”

Bob returned to talking about himself as they rode. As the daylight was fading rapidly, Bob guided the team off the road into another space along the road.

“Time to stop. Help me unhitch the team.”

“How?”

Bob took the horses on the right side of the team. He had Richard take the horses on the left. Richard does not like horses. He has seen them on the streets. Whether hitched to a cart, wagon or coach or ridden by a rider, the horses seemed dangerous to him. So, he avoided them. He has never been close to one. Cautiously he approaches Bob’s horse.

Slowly, Bob describes each step to unhitch the horse, take the horse to a spot to be tied to a hitching line that he attached to some trees and then to store the tack in the wagon. As each step is completed, he nods that Richard has done it the way he wanted. When all four horses were tied, he grabbed the end of a large sheet of canvas.

“Grab the other end and that pole.”

Richard followed his instructions.

“We will pull this out of the wagon five steps then prop the end with the poles.”

Richard nodded that the understood.

Bob started to pull the canvas. Richard followed. When they had gone five steps, they stopped, stuck the poles into a corner of the sheet and the other end into the ground. They now had a tent-like shelter.

“There, now we can sleep on the turf and not get wet if’n it rains. Much better than sleeping in the back of the wagon or in a hole in the ground.”

Richard has slept only on the floors of the foundling home or Maggie’s inn so he thought that the bed of the wagon would be good for him.

“This is my first time sleepin’ on the ground. Sleepin’ on boards is what I knows.”

Bob throws him a cloth to use as a blanket.

“Ya been drowsin’ the whole ride. Here. Sleep. When the light comes, we will hitch the horses to go.”

Richard takes the blanket, curls up on the ground and quickly is asleep.

It seems to him that he has just gone to sleep when he wakes to someone kicking his foot.

“Dick, tis first light. Time to get going. We eat, then hitch up.”

They get the food left from yesterday’s meal to eat before they roll the canvas back into the wagon.

“We hitch the horses in the opposite way that we unhitched ‘em.”

Richard nodded and set about putting each horse in its place to the front of the wagon.

“Good. We’re ready. Climb up.”

Bob slapped the reins on the horses to get them to move. Once they were on the road, he started to talk again. Richard wasn’t sure that he was always talking to him, to the horses or no one in particular. Sometimes he would join Bob’s conversation. Much of the time, he listened and watched the lands to each side of the road.



On the fourth day since he met Bob, they approached Sheffield.

“That’s Sheffield over there. I will be takin’ the road aroun’ the center of town. If’n ya are goin’ to Sheffield, ya get off ‘ere.. Thank ya for ‘elpin’ me an’ listenin’ ta me chatter. I wish ya well.”

Bob offers his hand. Richard shakes it and climbs down to the road. Before he can set off, Bob asks.

“Do ya ‘ave work ‘ere?”

“No, nothing.”

“Ya ‘andled my horses well. Are ya interested to work wi’ ‘orses?”

“Didn’t think on it. Maybe I could.”

“I ‘as a friend who looks after horses at a coaching inn in Keighley. He could use some help. Dick, would you be interested to try that? If it doesn’t work for ya, ya can always come back to Sheffield. It tisn’t far.’”

Richard knew nothing or no one in Sheffield. Bob was offering a job and what sounded like a good job,

“Not far? If I don’t like it, I can come back to Sheffield?”

“Yeah, I can haul ya on one of my trips to London.”

Thinking only briefly about his choices he says, “I’ll try it.”, then climbs back onto the wagon.

“Welcome back. Next stop, Keighley.” Bob grins.

Richard doesn’t know why Keighley deserves a grin, but so far, his time with Bob has been good. As each day passes with no one pursuing them from behind, he feels better.

“We have another night sleepin’ on the ground. Then, we can get ya a bed in Keighley.”



On the following day, they approached a small village. There were no roads around it, so they would have to go through. Richard noticed that it wasn’t far from the edge of town to the common in the town’s center. And not much further after the common, they reached the north edge of town. There, Bob stopped. To their right was a building with a sign painted with a rearing black horse.

“We’re here. The Black Horse Inn. Let me see if my friend Davey is about.”

Richard took the reins that Bob offered him. Bob set the brake and climbed down. He vanished to the rear of the building. Shortly after, he returns with another man.

“Step down, Dick. This is Mr. David Willett. ‘e Knows horses. Manages ‘orse teams for Mr. Eagleton who owns these inns.”

Richard ties the reins off to the brake handle, then climbs down to face the Mr. Willett.

David Willett is thirty-eight years old. His frame is stocky and slightly shorter than Richard. His brown hair is pulled back into a queue. As a child and adult he has lived only in Keighley. For more than twenty years he has worked the horses and coaches at this inn. He examines Richard with a look from toe to head.

“Bob tells me ya are lookin’ for work. ‘ave ya worked with horses?”

“Horse. No. Not until I met Bob, Some with dogs.”

Willett makes a face. “No horses. Why should I hire ya, then?”

Bob answers for Sharpe. “After he ‘elped me with my team, I saw potential in the lad. Knows ya are lookin’ for ‘elp. I recommends ‘im to ya Davey. Will ya give ‘im a try?”

Willett looks at Bob, then to Richard.

“I does need ‘elp. My family is at our cottage east o’ ‘ere. Mr. Eagleton wants someone to live ‘ere at the inn to take care ‘o the ‘orses all hours. Ya willin’ to learn, Dick? Work all hours?”

“Aye, Mr. Willett.”



Willett pauses. Most of the young lads here work on farms or for the pay in the mills. He has had no luck to hire one to live and work at the inn. “Good then. Ya gets paid 2 shillings a week and yer room and board o’ two meals a day. Ya’ll sleep in the stable. Eat in the kitchen, not the inn. Ya c’n start t’day.”

Bob grins at Sharpe. “There ya ‘ave it Dick. Do yer best. Don’ let me down with Davey. I thinks that y’ll do all right. Time for me to go. I c’n reach Skipton a’fore dark if I git movin’.

Willet pats Bob on the back as he turns to leave. “Good bye Bob. And thank ya.”

“I’ll be through ‘ere in a week. Will stop to see how’s Dick’s doin’. To Richard, “I hopes ya will want to stay and not wants to go to Sheffield.”

“Thank ya Davey. Teach the lad well, I will.” Bob climbed up to his seat and drives off.

“So Dick, Bob tells me ya comes from London. What’s your full name?

“Sharpe. Richard Sharpe.”



“Well Dick Sharpe. Welcome to Keighley. Bring your things. We’ll put them in the stable. Let’s go learn about horses, eh?”

Richard Sharpe was safely out of London and had found work in Yorkshire.

---

Fiction Index | Sharpe Tales Home | Sharpe's Family Index | Chapter 9

---