On the Head of a Pin Read Online Free Page A

shops, and take a pack and horse into the further reaches, but right now I can’t get there even on horseback. Looks like I’m stuck at the front in the meantime.”
    If the ruts on the road to Milford were any indication, Simms would be at the front for some time to come, for even here on a travelled route, the going was hard, and frequently Lewis was forced to ride along the shoulder in order to avoid the large mud puddles that had collected in the middle. It made for a very disjointed conversation, but the peddler appeared not to notice, and continued talking even when Lewis had wandered away.
    â€œSo, are you the Simms or the son?” Lewis asked him, as he rejoined the wagon after the fifth detour.
    â€œBoth. I inherited the business. My father had a half-baked idea of establishing some sort of commercial empire someday. He wanted to be man of means, to be one of the important men in the colony, but it appears he was a little over-optimistic, since all he ever really had was a peddler’s cart and a little stock.” Simms shook his head. “He kept us all well enough, I guess, but he certainly never grew rich. When he died, all that was left was his cart and the responsibility for the upkeep of an aging mother and three unmarried sisters, none of whom show any prospect of finding a husband in the near future. Never mind. With all the new lands being opened up for settlement, maybe business will pick up. I tell you something, though, just between you and me and the doorpost. A lot of the merchants are in trouble. Everybody’s been running on credit and now they’re being squeezed by their suppliers, and those bastards, pardon my language, Parson, want cash to settle up.”
    Few finished goods were produced locally. Instead they came from other places, shipped down the St. Lawrence River, the trade controlled by Montreal businessmen who added a substantial surcharge to anything they sent and refused to fairly share the monies generated by customs and duties at the port of entry. Upper Canadian goods, timber and wheat for the most part, were shipped back, but nearly everything within the colony itself ran on a barter basis. Cash was hard to come by at the best of times, but according to Simms, now credit was being choked off as well.
    â€œIt’s the States,” Simms said. “They were determined to build as many roads and canals as they could, and they issued too many bonds and notes. The people who invested have discovered there’s nothing backing them up. Fortunes have been lost, a lot of them in Britain, and now they’re scared skinny and pinching pennies.”
    â€œSo people are being squeezed all the way along the line, top to bottom?”
    Simms nodded. “Yes, that’s the crux of the matter, all right — including yours truly. If I could get the girls off my hands it would help a lot.” He sighed. “You don’t happen to know of anyone who’s looking for a wife, do you? Mind you, none of the three knows how to do anything except sing a little and do fancy needlework, so don’t be offering up anyone who’s looking for cooking or cleaning or anything useful.”
    â€œWhat you need is a half-pay officer or someone with a government appointment, then. Their wives are mostly ornamental, or so I’m told. Not the circle I travel in, I’m afraid.”
    The colony was awash in ex-British officers who had been granted huge swaths of land in lieu of their pensions — acreages that would have made them rich had they been in settled England. Upon arrival they had been astounded to discover that there was no servant class in Canada and that they were expected to hew their own wood and carry their own water. They were not, as a rule, very successful as settlers.
    â€œUnfortunately,” said Simms, “only one of my sisters could be described as decorative in any way. Mother would love it if she landed some Britisher