The Age of Hamilton

Chapter 5

Aaron Burr stumbles around the town, no law firm confident enough to hire him. It feels as though they had known what he had done to Hamilton. 

Ugh. Alexander Hamilton. The man is a thorn in Burr's side. A nagging thorn that refused to go away. Had the seconds spoken about his attempt to kill his political opponent? He had failed. Well, Hamilton was a coward, the voice in his head reassures. The man exposes his own affair--his own bout with dealing with the loss of his first-born son. Hamilton, unlike Burr, was a respected lawyer. In his expectation to perish, he stepped away from discussing personal affairs. Something even Burr found startling. Yet, Aaron knew the secret inner workings of the financial side of the law firm in the town. If Alexander found out--chaos and destruction would ensue. He arrives to a small tavern where excited yelps and cheers fill the air. Ignoring the sounds of jubilant citizens, he approaches the counter. A single beer isn't going to drown the feelings of self-loathing and hate which accompanies the unwavering feeling of self-pity. Every employer knew how much of a joke Burr has become. Of how politically unnecessary he is. 

I'll find a way to speak to Jefferson. He mulls the thought over a pint of Samuel Adams. The faint sting of the alcohol burns his throat as it slithers down. Placing a few bills on the counter, he notices the previous excitement and previous happiness that once filled the tavern turn quiet. The intoxicating vibe abruptly turns sour. There is the squeak of the door. The sound of footsteps followed by hushed whispers fill the air. Aaron refuses to turn around, knowing exactly who could cause such a hush to the air. Yet, the new guest maneuvers through the pub like a ghost. The only sound of his presence is his booted footfalls clicking against the wooden floor. The latest news finally reaches the ears of Aaron Burr. 

Former Lawyer Aaron Burr Attempts to Gun Down Political Opponent

Burr feels his fists tighten and turn to a ghostly white against the milky glass of the mug. He catches bits and pieces of the conversation. The tool had the duel published. It hadn't even been a week and the tool had the duel published without concern for the proper authorities to question him regarding the duel. Of course, Burr should have foreseen that, with a quill, Hamilton was unavoidable. His twisted words spread like a recently unearthed infection, infectious, and coursing through everybody. The issue becomes exacerbated when three men enter the pub. One of which Burr quickly identifies as Nathaniel Pendleton. The other two men had the milky rheum of intoxication within their gaze. Their footsteps were staggering, their eyes wide. The men were both unaware of not only Burr's watchful gaze, but also of Alexander's gaze. Nathaniel glances over his shoulder. Catching a glimpse of Burr's overcoat despite it being the summer. Alexander's head is bowed over a recently torn newspaper clipping. He scribbles little words in the margins. 

"So," Alexander hums out without glancing up. "It was you. You wrote to the editor to the Post." 

Nathaniel slides into the booth across from his friend. He leans back after rolling his shoulders. "Perhaps. Perhaps not." 

Burr doesn't catch Nathaniel's words, he's too busy listening to the drunken men' conversation. 

The first man is clearly from the south, his accent thick. The man chuckles. "Oi, did you hear that a former politician attempted to kill off Alexander Hamilton?" 

"Yeah," The other man, from the North, replied smoothly. "It was in the New York Post--" 

People were reading Alexander's Post? Clearly Burr wasn't the only person catching the conversation between the two drunken men. The excitement flowing through Hamilton causes him to release a chuckle from his throat. "You cunning piece of--how did you manage that?" 

Nathaniel responds with a laugh of his own as he answers back softly, "I know someone who works in the Post. Figured you would get reckless, why not save the work for you?"