Thump...thump...thump...thump....

Thump...thump...thump...thump...

The noise was fast and loud. His impatience grew with each passing millisecond.

Thump...thump...thump...thump....

Thump...thump...thump...thump...

His fingertips pounded the desk at which he sat, leaving deepening indentations with each sequence of taps. Sir Nicholas had called an impromptu board meeting for the State representatives of the Americas. It was with no surprise to Sir Nicholas that all fifty members had made the meeting. They usually did, or they suffered the same fate as their predecessors.

"Well? Has anyone got anything for me?" Sir Nicholas's voice boomed through the cavelike auditorium.

The representatives were sweating, and not just because Sir Nicholas had ramped the heating way up. When he was like this, none of them would meet his gaze. He stalked the room, back and forth, a rabid jungle cat.

"Someone better say something, or someone is going to get FIRED!" Sir Nicholas's deep, raspy voice reverberated round the room, making some of the assembled wince, knowing full well the significance of the statement.

"Ah, I...I...I may have something. It's not much. Just a prospect really."

"Georgia. Isn't it?" asked Sir Nicholas, fixing her with a burning stare.

"Ye...Yes, Sir."

"Right. The rest of you useless bastards can get out... for now."

The assembled representatives bustled and shoved at each other to get out of the room as fast as possible, like hooligans at a soccer match.

When the room was empty, Sir Nicholas rounded on the representative from the southern state. He paced around her like a beast on heat. He sniffed the air, and he could taste her fear. He was also impressed that she had the nerve to speak up when all the other parasites had no balls. Well they wouldn't have soon, by the time he finished with them.

"Well?" he demanded, his face redder by the second.

"I have been watching a group down in the south of the state. There are about eight of --"

"EIGHT! That's more than a prospect these days. That's a gold mine. More than the other buggers have brought me this year."

"Yes, Sir. It may pan out to being only one, but I think you may find this interesting, on a personal level."

"A personal level? How do you figure that?"

Sir Nicholas was becoming intrigued, despite himself. He wanted to rage, roar and rampage. It kept the rabble in line but something was holding him back with this youngster.

"They are musicians."

"Do you know how many we have signed over the years? They are a dime a dozen. Drummers, and those infernal guitarists. Nothing refined about them. Why should I be interested in more of them?"

"Because of the group's leader, Sir. He's hot... I mean, with his instrument. He can play almost anything, and the speed."

"Yes, yes. I am interested why?"

"He's a fiddle player."

"A violinist! What would I do with a violinist?"

"No. An actual fiddle player. A very cocksure young man who reckons he could beat the horns off the devil himself." Georgia smiled at her last statement.

Sir Nicholas flopped back into his chair and rocked backwards, throwing his feet onto the table. Georgia had never seen him look so relaxed.

"Did he really now?" Sir Nicholas smiled, "Perhaps we should give him that opportunity."

"I'll get right on it."

"No. I think I'll handle this one, personally."

"Really, Sir Nicholas? Out in the field?"

"Back in the day, I handled all of the contracts myself. Before I franchised it out to you lot, and those bloody crossroad idiots. Some of you wouldn't know a good deal if it jumped up and bit you in the ass."

Sir Nicholas was surprised to find himself grinning. He hadn't been to the Americas for a long, long time. Hell, he hadn't been up top in a long time either. He took his feet off the desk and stood up abruptly, making Georgia jump backwards quickly.

"Don't worry, dear. You have done very well. You showed some real fire in your belly, stepping forward like that. I take it you know about my little pleasure?"

"The playing? Yes, Sir Nicholas. It is something of a sub-urban legend amongst us. How you would lure young virgins to your grasp with the music, and bend them to your will."

"Well, my looks didn't hurt either, you know." Sir Nicholas grinned at her. "I've been here a long time, but don't forget where I came from. Where most of us came from. I used to play for Him. Did you know that?"

"Really? I thought it was all harps and stuff in the upper departments."

"No way. Of course, it's all been outlawed. Now it's viewed as 'The Devil's Music', as you know. Tell me more about this young man and his cohorts. You have me intrigued. Oh, and please do take a seat."

* * * * *

Johnny was shattered. He didn't think it was possible to be any more tired. It was his tenth straight shift at the saw mill, working from dawn until dusk. He needed the money, especially with a new wife, and baby on the way. He knew he was one of the luckiest men alive, but he still felt at sea. He wanted more out of life than lumber. He gathered up his coat and lunch pail, and set off for home. It was only a mile or so, but in the southern summer, even the night was hot. He was drenched by the time he got home. Sara had his food waiting for him. She always seemed to know just when he'd get back. She was a good woman.

Johnny kissed Sara before sitting down at the table.

"It's stew tonight, Johnny. Rabbit. I hope that's okay?"

"Couldn't be better, honey." Johnny smiled as he smelt the delicious fare presented to him.

Sara sat down nervously opposite Johnny at the wooden table he had crafted for them. She watched Johnny eat, like a ravenous horse.

"Slow down, darling. It's me that's supposed to be eating for two! I wish you wouldn't work so hard. I worry about you."

"Sara, this is good." Johnny continued to shovel the hot, tasteful stew into his mouth, barely chewing as he went. "I have to work, what with the little one on the way. We really need the money."

"Well, Elsa said that they were looking for waitresses down at bar, and -- "

"No," Johnny cut her off," not happening, honey. It's a horrible place."

"But you go there all the time. How bad can it be?"

"That's different, and you know it. It's the only place I can go to play."

"Oh, Johnny. You won't get discovered in a place like that."

Johnny shoved his chair back and stomped off in the direction of the bedroom.

"Johnny, I'm sorry. I know how much it means to you, but you have to let it go."

Johnny stripped off his dusty clothes, and padded through to the washroom in just his under garments. He turned on the hot tap, then pulled down his underwear and sat down on the toilet. It was several moments before the pipes began to crack, and bang. By the time the water started to trickle out of the tap, Johnny had finished his bowel movement, wiped his ass, and pulled up his underwear. He swore at the slowness of the system, and the tepidness of the water. He stuck the plug in the sink, and walked back into the bedroom and laid out his good clothes on the bed.

"Johnny, I'm sorry." Sara called from the kitchen.

Johnny could hear the clink of the dishes being put in the sink. He couldn't let her go out and bring in money. And certainly not in her condition, he reckoned. What kind of a man would that make him?

"It's okay. I'll look for something else in town next week. I'll cut down on the playing, but I have a commitment for tonight. I can't just pull out, the boys are depending on me."

And with that, Johnny closed over the bedroom door, had his wash, shaved and got dressed in his fine blue denims and red shirt. He looked at himself in the mirror, as he tied his yellow neckerchief. He winked at himself, thinking what might have been had he been in Memphis, or Nashville, instead of Chatham County, Georgia. He wished he could provide better for Sara and the little one. He knew he could play, but...

No point worrying about that now, he thought as he exited the bedroom. Sara was waiting for him as usual. She had his hat in her hand. No coat, the night was warm, warmer than it had been for some time in the evening.

"You be careful out there, honey. You know how they get all riled up when it's hot out."

"Don't worry, Sara. I can handle myself."

Sara sighed, as Johnny picked up his fiddle case from its resting perch on the side cabinet. She loved to watch him play. She had never seen a fiddle player with such fast hands, rhythm, and style. She truly thought he had a gift from God, but sometimes his ego got in the way. So proud.

"I'll pray for a quiet night."

Johnny just smiled at her, and sighed. He stepped outside, and headed off in the direction of 'Lucy's Bar'. Johnny hadn't gone more than half a mile before he was bathed in sweat.

"God, it's hotter than hell tonight."

* * * * *

On the far side of town, Sir Nicholas dressed all in white, walked down the centre of the dusty road. The heat not bothering him in the slightest. His jet black hair whipping out behind him as the warm breeze blew. He smiled into the night as he planned his moves for the evening. Trailing behind him, Georgia perspired profusely struggling to keep pace with him. She had never seen him so animated.

"Do keep up, my dear." Sir Nicholas called over his shoulder.

Georgia grimaced. He didn't like to make things easy but this was ridiculous.

"Sir, couldn't we just, you know, pop up there?"

"My dear, where is the fun in that? You youngsters have no sense of occasion. Everything is now, now, now. Do you know how slow things have been lately in the collections department? I intend to savour this moment. It has been a long time coming."

Georgia sighed behind him and quickened her step. She hated it down here in the southern states. Maybe if this all panned out, she'd get a promotion. Knowing Sir Nicholas though, probably not. She was really tired of looking at Sir Nicholas's back.

"Be careful of your thoughts, dear. Tell me, what was your name? Before joining the service?"

"Charlie," she replied, "Charlie Daniels."

"Interesting. And what did you do?"

"I wrote music, Sir."

"So this little venture is right up your street. Perhaps, when all is said and done, you may write something about tonight."

"It's been a while, but if you want, I could do."

Sir Nicholas grinned at the thoughts of his exploits for the evening being immortalised in song forever more. Now that would be a fitting tribute indeed.

Sir Nicholas drew to a halt. He cocked his head.

"Can you hear it, dear?"

"Hear what?"

"It would seem that they have begun without us. I can feel the music in the air. You should hear it presently. How far until we get there do you think?"

"About another twenty minutes or so, at this rate. It's on the next crossroads. A place called Lucy's."

"Lucy's. On a crossroads. How apt."

The pair walked in silence for the next twenty minutes until they reached their destination.

* * * * *

Johnny stepped out onto the little wooden stage at the front of the room, after the first group had finished their set. He raised his voice so he could be heard above the clamour at the bar.

"Ladies, and gentlemen. Due to the extreme weather conditions this evening, and the establishments lack of air conditioning, we are going to hold an open air session tonight. So if those of you not merely content with ending up on the barroom floor in a drunken heap tonight make your way outside, pull up a tree stump and we'll begin presently. Thank you."

Three quarters of the bar followed Johnny and the rest of the group out the front double doors and into the clearing at the side of the bar. Mikey started setting up his drums, and Dean idly plucked at his guitar gently, wishing that the folks had come to see him but knowing they hadn't. Frankie, Eddie, Reggie tuned their own fiddles quietly while watching Johnny make his own preparations. They wished they had half the talent of their friend. Eric and Ray went through their voice exercises by the tree line. Each and every one of them would have gladly sold their soul for a talent like Johnny. They all felt something in the air that night, something was different, but none of them could place it.

It had happened when the two strangers had breezed into the bar at about the same time Johnny had arrived. The man dressed in white had an air around him, and the way the girl fussed around him was just plain odd. The rumour going round was that he was some kind of big talent scout from out west. No prizes for guessing who he had come to see. The two of them had grabbed seats front and centre and settled in for the show.

* * * * *

The first set went really well. Johnny was on great form and his fiddle was singing like an unfettered Siren. The rest of the group struggled to match him. Every time he looked up, the gentleman in the white was staring straight at him with smouldering eyes. Johnny could almost feel the heat emanating from him such was its intensity.

During the interval, Johnny noticed the man in white deep in conversation with his companion. She appeared to be taking lots of notes. When the man appeared satisfied, he stood up, dusted down his white suit, and walked back into the bar. Johnny was about to follow him inside when someone tapped his shoulder. He felt a momentary hot pain like a heated knife in butter. He spun around to see the man's companion standing behind him.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. Johnny, isn't it?"

"Yeah. And you are?"

"Inconsequential. He, on the other hand," she gestured in the direction that her colleague had just walked, "can make all your dreams come true."

"All my dreams, eh? And what would he, or you know of my dreams?"

"We know all about you, Johnny. Working all those hours at the saw mill. Never having the time or money to fix up that old house of yours. Baby on the way. Struggling to make ends meet. Wanting to make music, not lumber. Sir Nicholas, he can make it happen."

"Sir Nicholas, huh? So what is he offering me?"

"Well, boy." A voice came from behind Johnny. A deep gravelly rolling boom that silenced the entire place.

Johnny turned around slowly. Sir Nicholas stood there, cool and calm in the mounting, sweltering heat; eyes boring deep into Johnny's inner self. In his hand he held a fiddle of his own. The wood seemed to undulate of its own accord, the strings seemed to hiss in the heat.

"I would not expect you to know this, but I'm a fiddle player too. Now, if you care to take a dare, I will make a bet with you. I can give you the things you need. Hell, even the things you want. Your every desire can be yours for the asking. You want to make it big? I can do that as well. All you have to do is sign." Sir Nicholas grinned.

"I don't wanna be famous, sir. I just want to provide for my family. That's what my dreams have always been about. Enough to make my livin' from my music, fix my house and live life good."

"Sold, young man. Sign and it's yours. Charlie, there, has the paperwork."

"You mentioned a bet?"

"Ah, yes. You see, you play pretty good fiddle, boy, but give the devil, his dues. I bet a fiddle of gold against your soul, because I know I'm better than you."

"A fiddle of gold?"

"Metaphorically speaking of course, my dear boy. All you need. The money, the house, the career. All for the princely sum of your soul. But if you beat me -- "

"I get it all for nothing."

Sir Nicholas smiled, "As you say."

Charlie held out a pen, and a contract. The crowd was deathly silent. Then a low level murmur started amongst the throng. Johnny heard various phrases -- "kick his ass, Johnny", "Johnny, don't do it." -- as he took the pen from the woman. He turned to Sir Nicholas.

"You have me at a disadvantage. I haven't heard you play."

"Does it matter, boy."

"My name's Johnny, and you're gonna regret this 'cause I'm one of the best you've ever seen."

Sir Nicholas laughed as Johnny scrawled his name along the bottom of the contract. It sounded as if a band of demons had joined in for good measure. As Johnny finished his signature. A voice shrieked out of the crowd.

"What have you done?"

"Sara, what are you doing here?"

"I was praying for you, like I said I would, when I felt troubled. I knew I had to come down here. What have you done?"

"The answer to your prayers, I hope."

"Oh, Johnny..."

"Enough of this!" bellowed Sir Nicholas, as he opened up his case, "I think I'll start this show."

He pulled his fiddle from the case, and the crowd fell silent, as sparks flew from his fingertips as he rosined up his bow. Then he pulled the bow across the strings and they made an evil hiss. The storm clouds gathered, and rumbled roared as he belted out his tune. Sir Nicholas moved about the crowd with each little ebb and flow. At times it felt like he was not alone as flames flickered on the breeze. The gathered patrons watched in awe as they felt their souls wrung out. When he finished, Sir Nicholas took a long, deep bow.

Sara touched Johnny's arm as he rose from the ground, a calm look in her eye.

"I believe in you, Johnny," then she closed her eyes, and prayed.

Johnny smiled at his beautiful wife, carrying their child inside her, gave a silent nod to the heavens and strode out to meet his adversary.

"Unlucky, boy. Unlucky." Sir Nicholas growled as he passed by Johnny.

Johnny put a hand on Sir Nicholas's shoulder, smiled, and said,

"Well you're pretty good old son, but just sit down in that chair right there, and let me show you how it's done."

As Johnny pulled his bow across his strings, the thunder clouds dispersed. The night's stars blinked back with brilliance. Thousands of heavenly notes dancing in the sky. The music filled the nighttime air, dispelling all the heat. A quick glance at Sir Nicholas, a worried look upon his face; another at Sara, eyes closed lips moving in silent praise. Johnny played long and light, a band of angels joining in. The last note hung in the air, a note of jubilation.

Sir Nicholas bowed his head because he knew that he'd been beat. Humiliated, he stood up to be greeted to Johnny's outstretched hand. Sir Nicholas shouldered past him.

Grinning, Johnny shouted after him, "Just come on back, if you ever wanna try again. I done told you once you son of a bitch, I'm one of the best you've ever seen."

After the whooping, and hollering had died down. Johnny looked around for the rest of the group. Eric, Dean and Ray were inside propping up the bar. None of them looked well.

"Hey, guys. Where're the others?"

"Gone, Johnny." Eric replied.

"Home?"

"Nope. When that woman was talking to you out there at the interval, the bugger was in here. He signed them up." Ray this time.

"Bloody hell. I guess the son of a bitch won after all."

* * * * *

"Can't we just go straight back, Sir?"

"You go on, Charlie. I'm going to walk for a while." Sir Nicholas replied, a wry smile on his face. He was still smarting a little from the showdown with the young fiddle player.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"You let him win, didn't you?"

Sir Nicholas turned to Charlie, "Who won, my dear? We walked away with four souls in the bag. We may not be out of the slump, but it's a great start. You head on back. I'll join you shortly to talk about where we go from here."

"Yes, Sir."

"Oh, and Charlie, start working on that song, would you? And make it catchy."