Grantville Gazette Volume 25

by editor Paula Goodlett

  Monday seemed to drag for Dieter. He had not slept well for two nights, worrying. What if somebody had seen them? Still, there hadn't been any rumor of a break-in, maybe they weren't in for it after all.

  This morning breakfast had been a little thin. The men had always been provided with bread and beer to break their fast before work. Today, there was only enough bread for each man to have one thin slice, and the beer was watered to tastelessness. At lunchtime, there was not much more than some bread, boiled eggs and thin soup. The men were beginning to grumble more loudly.

  After lunch, Dieter saw the Dutchman came out of his office, and walk down the rail to examine their work. As he approached, the grumbling faded into silence, only to well up behind him as he passed. He seemed oblivious to the smoldering glares and icy silence directed at his back.

  Dieter turned his head slightly as the Dutchman came near. He was half afraid that his guilty conscience was reflected in his eyes.

  Finn didn't seem to have that problem. He was able to look at the Dutchman. As he approached, Finn rose to his full height, and rested his hammer on his shoulder. Dieter placed another spike in the fish plate to keep busy and not look like he was watching. Finn looked directly into the Dutchman's eyes, and grinned slightly. Then he straightened, lifted the sledge off his shoulder, and brought it down with a grunt. Another blow, and he stepped forward to the next tie.

  The Dutchman looked nervous. "What is it, then, you idiot? Do you have something to say to me?"

  Finn glanced at the Dutchman again, then turned to Dieter. "Are you ready? Let's see how many more of these spikes we can set before dinner." He knocked Dieter's placed spike into the tie with two solid blows.

  The Dutchman watched for a moment, then continued the rest of his inspection round. After he left, Dieter took a step forward, and placed a spike on the next tie. As they continued down the length of their rail, the work blended into a graceful dance of set and swing and step and tap. The afternoon slid into the background as they concentrated on their movements.

  * * *

  As the week progressed, the mood at the camp worsened. The rain didn't help, either. It began Tuesday afternoon before the end of lunch. There was no lightning or wind, just the steady rainfall. It came in gentle waves, but there were very few moments that the work crew didn't have water dripping from their hair, making their grip on the tools difficult.

  Late Friday afternoon, Finn was about the only crewman remaining cheerful. He was standing with his hammer on his shoulder as if nothing was wrong.

  Dieter began to dislike him intensely for his cheerful smile. "My mother told me that if I were wicked, something like this would happen. Do you think it rains like this in hell?"

  Finn's smile was maddeningly happy. "No. But it rains like this in Ireland. I grew up working in the thicker air." Finn waited for Dieter to place another spike. "It's nothing but a little water. And since you're not made of salt, you've nothing to fear from it."

  "I like water fine when I'm washing up, but not when it's running in my eyes. I'm just as likely to drop a spike and have you drive me into the tie instead."

  Finn laughed. "Well, set up that spike, and we'll see if I hit you or it, why don't we?"

  Dieter was grateful when the horn blew for the end of the day.

  * * *

  Some effort had been made to provide a shelter for dinner. Tarps and cloths had been stretched between trees. But the grass was still wet, and the pathways treacherous with mud.

  Finn and Dieter were not at the head of the line, but they were close enough to hear the words exchanged by the man in front and the girl at the table. "What do ye mean this is all we have?"

  The girl couldn't have been more than sixteen, and was frightened by the shouting crewman. She was from a nearby village, and had only been working for the company for a couple of weeks. She listened to the shouting man for just a moment, then turned and ran sobbing into the cook tent.

  After a moment, Roselynde came out with a rolling pin in hand like a destroying angel. "You great lump, were you raised in the barn with the pigs? What do you think, making Marie cry like that? I'm even thinking that you don't deserve any dinner at all, if you would treat the girls that way."

  The man who had done the shouting didn't back down. "See here, I was told we'd be fed properly for working here. Not just a bit of bread and watery soup."

  Roselynde didn't back down either. "If you want more than that, you have my permission to catch a fish from the lake over there. But I better not see you yelling at these girls anymore. You'll go cool your head a little before I'll serve you any dinner."

  The man stomped away. She turned to the other men in line. "And what about the rest of you? Are you wanting to shout at any more of my girls?"

  The other men ducked their heads, not wanting to look at her. Roselynde turned and went back into the tent, and the line began to move again. Dieter thought a lot about that. He decided that it was just best never to get on Roz's bad side.

  Dinner wasn't as bad as it could have been. The soup was mostly cabbage, but it had been stewed with some beef bones, and there were fresh greens in it, too. There was bread as well. The men picked up bowls from the table, and shuffled forward, careful to not complain too loudly. Nobody wanted to see what Mistress Roselynde would do if she got really angry.

  * * *

  Saturday morning dawned bright and lively. It promised to be a beautiful day. The little bit of mist that wafted between the trees melted as the sun touched it. There were still puddles and mud, but it was the model of a beautiful spring day.

  Before the horn blew for breakfast, the whole crew was out and about. Word spread that an inspection team had arrived.

  It was something of a holiday on the line. Well, almost. The work was halted while the safety inspectors went over each rail and tie, looking for sloppy work. The men weren't allowed to leave the job, but the break from work was like a holiday anyway.

  While the inspectors worked their way down the railroad, most of the crew found their entertainment by sitting on barrels and rocks along the sides of the right of way.

  But Finn and Dieter weren't found among the other workmen. They were hurrying along the path toward the mess tent. "Finn, I don't understand exactly what we're doing."

  Finn gestured with his hand as he hurried toward the cook tent. "Ah, Dieter. It's as clear as glass. The inspectors are going to want to see all the records as well as the rail work. Roselynde is quite certain that the Dutchman will try to throw the guilt onto her lovely shoulders. We just need to make sure that the auditors catch him at his shenanigans and keep her out of trouble."

  Dieter was a little winded trying to keep up with his partner's long strides. "And how are we going to do that?"

  "Well, if I know Mistress Roselynde, she'll jump into trouble with both feet. We need to be there to pull her out."

  * * *

  Finn was right. Roselynde had already jumped in feet first. She just didn't know how much trouble was heading in her direction.

  As soon as the auditors started at the mess tent, she slipped out the back. This was the opportunity she was looking for. She opened the door to the empty office, and hurried inside. She became engrossed in her search for evidence, and didn't pay attention to anything else.

  Then the door flew open, and the Dutchman stood framed against the bright sunlight. He saw Roselynde behind his desk, papers in her hand, then quickly closed the door. "Here, what's this? What are you doing in here?"

  Before she could hide the letter she held, he caught her by the throat. "Roselynde, we can make it through this inspection together, if you cooperate. If not, I'll claim you were robbing my office and turn you over to the authorities. We'll see how long after that you have a job, let alone a protector in that Irishman. You're better off with me, anyway. What do you say? I'll cut you in for two hundred silver, up front."

  Roselynde's heart was rattling in her chest like a captive finch, and she could hard
ly breathe with the Dutchman's hand on her throat. Her fear was so strong that it tasted like acid.

  His fingers began to squeeze slightly, and his eyes began to burn. "Answer me now or you'll regret it. I'll have to tie you up and hide you away somewhere until the inspection is over. Answer!"

  Roselynde wasn't afraid now. She was angry and getting more so. "You fool. I see nothing in you that's worthwhile. I'd never throw in with you, a liar, a thief and a bully." She pulled his hand off her throat with both hands. He still held her elbow with his other hand, but her anger seemed to give her superhuman strength. She gripped his left hand, sinking in her fingernails.

  He kept glaring at her as he struggled to release his hand and bend her to his will.

  Roz began to realize that she had more control over his hand than he had over her. In fact, she actually started enjoying the thought that he was in pain. Her anger overflowed, and everything around turned red. She bent and sank her teeth into his thumb.

  * * *

  Finn and Dieter searched the cook tent, the women's quarters, and the open areas in between. Finn scowled. "This isn't good at all. I'm sure she's gone to the office to try and prove her innocence." He broke into a run.

  They were just outside the office when they heard a scream and a thud. They both recognized the voice. Finn kicked the door open.

  Finn caught the Dutchman with a left hook. Not to be defeated so easily, the Dutchman came up and drove his head directly into Finn's torso. The momentum threw them both out of the cabin.

  * * *

  Roselynde came to the door of the office and saw him on top of Finn, the anger still burning bright in her heart. She launched herself onto the Dutchman's shoulders, screaming like a banshee and tearing at his neck and head with her fingernails. She was truly a frightening sight to behold.

  When he got a chance, Finn reached out and pried her off the Dutchman.

  Roselynde was spitting like a rabid cat. "Put me down, you great clod of a man. Couldn't you see that I was helping?"

  Finn kept an eye on the Dutchman while he struggled to hold the raging and wiggling Roselynde. "Dieter, now I know how you feel trying to keep me out of trouble. Give me a hand here."

  Roselynde was trying to break Finn's hold. "Oh, I see now. Only the men can take care of business. You want me to step aside, and let you take care of everything. Well, I'm done with that! I can take care of myself, you know."

  The Dutchman stepped back out of range of Roselynde's kicks. He dabbed at the blood on his mouth. "Hold her just like that until the inspector arrives, O'Donnell, and I'll not press charges against you for attacking a superior."

  Finn placed Roselynde on her feet next to Dieter. "Hold her."

  Now Roselynde had a new victim. She screamed and clawed at Dieter's heavy coat, but just couldn't get to anything she could hurt.

  While Roselynde spouted threats, Dieter eased her away from the fistfight that had ensued the moment she was separated from it. "Roselynde, we have other things we can do to protect Finn. The inspectors are here now. They are the ones to deal with the Dutchman. You need to search for evidence to show them. It's up to you to find whatever you can before the fight breaks up. Finn's distracting the Dutchman now, but it can't go on forever."

  She stopped struggling. "All right, Dieter. I'll look for the paper I had before the Dutchman found me. It can't have gone far. You go get Finn's hammer." She frowned. "And make sure he doesn't kill Finn. I'm holding you responsible!"

  "Yes, ma'am, it's what I'm best at. I've kept that Irishman alive up till now, and I don't intend for him to be killed today."

  * * *

  As he reached the sidelines, Dieter could see that there were very few of the crew who had any sympathy at all for the Dutchman. Some were even moving among the rest, taking bets.

  The crew were not the only ones interested in the proceedings. The inspection team came out of the kitchen tent. One caught Dieter by the arm. "See here, man. What is all of this? Why is that man attacking Herr Keese?"

  Dieter paused to explain. "I think the captain gave an illegal order, and the other man is expressing his opinion of that order." One inspector stayed to observe the fray, and the other hurried off to find their guards. Dieter let him go. Time enough later to worry about legal complications. Now he needed to be get Finn's hammer and stay nearby in case Finn needed him.

  * * *

  The Dutchman caught Finn in the side of the head with a roundhouse blow. Finn saw the movement from the corner of his eye, and ducked. He jerked his head sideways, rolling backward to get his feet underneath him, coming up facing the Dutchman, hands in front, protecting his face.

  The Dutchman charged in again. They were trading blow for blow, like titans in the battle at the end of the world. After a little while, the Dutchman took a step or two back, and stood with his hands on his knees, sucking in great breaths, letting his sweat and blood drip onto the ground. Finn stepped back also, and stood observing for a moment.

  "Here, now. Are you surrendering?" Finn called.

  The Dutchman straightened and glared, then brought his fists up again. "I'm more of a man than you, you uneducated ogre. I'll not surrender."

  Finn stood up with his fists at the ready. "Ogre am I? Well, you little weasel, take your best shot."

  The Dutchman charged again. He stepped up and delivered a two punch combination, left and right. Finn caught one of the blows on his forearm, but the second came past, and slammed onto his cheek. The Dutchman rolled back and turned, just as Finn's fist came hurtling toward him. He tried to duck, but his feet found one of the many mud puddles in the area and he slid into the mud.

  Finn started to laugh. The spectators pushed their way forward, and Finn was shoved into the mud as well. Laughter scattered across the entire meadow.

  When the Dutchman fought his way to his feet, he was almost knee deep in the muck. Mud clung to every part of him, sticks and leaves as well. There was a low rumble through the crowd, as he resembled nothing so much as the ogre he'd just invoked.

  Finn stood, covered in the same glorious muck. He went at the Dutchman, throwing punches, plowing through the slippery slime as though he were a locomotive. By the time they reached the bank of the mud hole, the Dutchman was standing more from stubbornness than anything else.

  The edge of the puddle met the back of the Dutchman's knees, so suddenly he was sitting. When Finn saw his opponent collapse, he backed up to see what was happening. The Dutchman blinked like a rabbit blinded by a bright light.

  Finn leaned forward, and rested his hand on his knee. His breath was blowing like a warhorse after a sprint. He heard a groan from the crowd.

  So Dieter spoke for everyone. "Hey there, Finn. You're not finished yet, are you?"

  Finn straightened. "No, Dieter. We're not near finished yet. My friend here was only taking a small breather. Any of you fellows got some water for us?"

  It was only moments before a wooden bucket appeared. The Dutchman stood to get a drink, and was a little surprised to have the water poured over his head instead. Finn, watching from the other side of the mud hole, burst out laughing until a similar bucket was emptied over him.

  "Here, now. What's the idea?" Finn shook out his hair like an dog after a bath. "Wasn't I wet enough already?"

  Finn made his way out of the mud hole while the Dutchman cleared enough muck out of his eyes to see. Finn turned and offered his hand to pull him up out of the mire. The Dutchman took Finn's hand and finally reached solid ground. Then, keeping hold of Finn's hand, he pulled Finn close and swung his fist at his head.

  Finn tried to duck the blow, but caught some of it. He stumbled, but didn't let loose of the Dutchman. He tumbled to the ground, taking his adversary with him. They rolled across the grass, causing the crowd to back up.

  Then Finn got his feet under him, stood up with the Dutchman's lapels firmly in each hand. He swung the lowlander around, flinging him against the wall of the nearby office, then he put his head down and ramm
ed it into the Dutchman's gut.

  * * *

  Roselynde was startled when the walls shook and the crowd roared. Dust shook out of the rafters, and she coughed a little. Then, looking down, she finally found a crumpled letter under the edge of the desk. She stooped to retrieve it. Yes, this was important, a list of shipments that she had never received.

  Then she noticed a wooden box under the desk. The box was locked, but Roselynde wasn't even slowed down. It didn't look very sophisticated. A few moments work with a letter opener, and the box was open.

  Inside, there were a couple of money pouches, and several papers. It was the letter underneath that was exactly what she was looking for.

  * * *

  Outside, the Dutchman snapped a punch into Finn's chest. The big Irishman's arms wind-milled and he stumbled back. Before he could recover, the Dutchman was on him, throwing a hail of body blows. They broke apart, and rolled slowly to their feet. This time Finn was ready. The Dutchman charged, Finn swung hard and he bounced backward, the momentum carrying him into the kitchen area of the camp, knocking over pots and pans, stumbling into crates and barrels.

  Finn followed him. His face no longer carried a look of laughter or fun. The crowd drew back from him as they would from a bear in the forest.

  The Dutchman scrambled to his feet as if to make a break for it. Then he spotted something that had been thrown from an overturned table. He picked up the butcher knife, holding it like a bully from the docks.

  Now that the Dutchman had a weapon, one that he obviously knew how to use, a hush fell over the crowd. The only sounds were the fire hissing nearby, and a few bookmakers at the back of the mob.

  "Finn, I fetched this for you," Dieter called. "Thought it might come in handy." He threw Finn's huge hammer. Finn held out his hand and caught it.

  Finn raised his voice. "Are ye sure you want to do this? It will not go well for you."

  The Dutchman crouched slightly, and held his knife like a dagger. "I've heard bluster like yours before. You don't want to come against this knife. You should just let me leave in peace."