Grantville Gazette, Volume 68

by Bjorn Hasseler

  They reached Rudolstadt by mid-morning and dismounted at the edge of the small town that backed up to the castle walls to give some rest and relief to the horses. The four continued on foot, leading the horses by their reins. They might need those horses fresh depending on what they discovered at the crime scene.

  Rudolstadt looked much like the small German towns he and Vina had visited during Harley’s Army tour in Europe--narrow streets lined with well-kept houses. The street led towards the center of town where the town hall and central marketplace were located. The empty houses were being occupied again with residents returning now that the threat from Tilly's marauders was gone.

  The town hall was the largest building outside the castle walls. It sat on the edge of the main plaza where a few vendors were setting up their kiosks and products for sale. Today was market day. Most of the locals preferred to remain inside against the rain that the gray, threatening clouds had not yet delivered. From the Town Hall, they proceeded through Rudolstadt heading for the Saale River waterfront and up the river to the mill. The message sent to Grantville said that is where they would be met.

  The mill was built on the bank of the river and powered by a water wheel. A large wooden building that appeared to be a warehouse was next to the mill, separated by a narrow alley. The mill serviced a number of small villages around Rudolstadt as well as the castle. The count's man and a Rudolstadt watchman were waiting.

  “Hello, Herr Reinart,” Harley said as he approached to two waiting men. “I am Deputy Sheriff Thomas. This is Deputy Sheriff Mitchell, Deputy Sheriff Huffman, and our assistant, Dieter Issler.”

  “Hello, Deputy Thomas,” Reinart replied. “You arrived quickly. Herr Polizeichef Frost said he would send his best deputies.” He ignored Dieter.

  Dieter was giving Max and Archie a running translation of Harley's conversation with Reinart. Harley noticed the snub to Dieter but chose to let it pass. Grantville needed good relations with Rudolstadt. “What happened, Herr Reinart?"

  “Four, maybe five men were discovered stealing flour and grain early yesterday morning by the miller. He lives here at the mill with his family. A villager from Debra was approaching from further up the river road when he heard the miller’s wife screaming. He was running to the mill when he was surprised by the bandits as he came around the corner here,” Reinart said, pointing to the entrance of the alley between the warehouse and the mill. “The outlaws ambushed him. He gave us a description of them before he died. The miller’s description is the same. The miller was badly beaten and was cut in a few places but has no serious injuries.”

  The Rudolstadt watchman spoke for the first time. “Meine Herren, I am Watchman Werner Anthross. We have a description of four men of middle age; mid-thirties the miller estimates. Three wore front and back armor and carried at least one pistol each. The fourth was more poorly dressed, no armor and he carried an ax. I found tracks heading upriver along the river bank.”

  And you didn’t go any further, did you? Harley thought. Town watchmen weren’t eager to venture far from their home town. They wanted overwhelming numbers if they were going to get into a fight. A single watchman couldn't do much by himself. Getting killed wasn't a part of his job description.

  Archie and Dieter went off to speak with the miller and his wife while Max examined the scene. The morning thaw had left a layer of mud over still frozen earth. Too many people had trodden through the alley. Any attempt to distinguish the outlaws' tracks from the civilians’ was impossible.

  Harley asked the watchman, "How far from here did you track them?"

  "Up the river to the place where a stream enters the river. The tracks continued up the stream."

  "You didn't go any further?"

  "Nein. I came back to report to Herr Reinart and he sent for you."

  ****

  Max and Harley met Archie and Dieter on their return from speaking with the miller. The miller hadn't provided any new information.

  "How do you want to handle this, Harley?” Archie asked. "You can't walk far with that knee of yours."

  Harley grimaced momentarily. It was embarrassing that his knee was an issue. All three of them were getting a little old for this kind of business. They couldn’t always use Dieter as a bird dog to walk point. He didn’t have the experience. Most of the younger folks were joining the Army or one of the ambassadorial teams. Harley had his bad leg. He suspected that Max had a heart condition, but Max hadn't said anything. Archie had an ulcer and had lost over forty pounds in the last year. Of course, Archie said that he had the weight to spare, and that was true.

  Dan Frost needed a younger deputy, and Dieter was the best candidate he had. Today may be the day for his promotion. The decision had been left up to them. They were the best judges to determine if, or when, Dieter was ready.

  "Let's do it this way, flush and sit. Archie, you and Dieter follow the trail. Let’s use this as an opportunity to give Dieter some training. Max and I will ride outside of the trees that line the streambed, out of the brush, and see if we come across any tracks. If we do, I'll send Max back to get you with your horses. If we don't find any tracks, Max and I will set an ambush in case you flush them out. If you hear us shooting, lie low until you're sure they aren't coming back your way. I don't want you to try to nab them by yourself."

  "Shoot, Harley, I'm not that stupid. I've kept my hide intact all these years, and I'm not gonna change that now," Archie replied. With that, Archie retrieved his rifle, canteen, and pack from the horse. Nodding to Dieter, he said, "Dieter, tell this watchman to show me these tracks and where he stopped.” Dieter spoke to the watchman who, with an acknowledging nod, turned and walked off down the alley with Max and Dieter following behind.

  "Herr Reinart, we'll see what we can find,” Harley said.

  "Danke schön. I'll have Watchman Anthross waiting here for you. He can find me if you need me."

  Harley and Max mounted their horses and, each leading one of the two riderless horses, followed Archie, Dieter, and the watchman down the alley.

  "Look, Max. You can see how that creek cuts back from the river.” Harley pointed to a distant line of trees that ran from the river to the northwest. The ground close to the river had the glimmer of ice, unmelted among the leafless trees. "It looks like there is a slough down there. Those outlaws won't stay there. It's too wet. Let's run up along that tree line to the ridge and see if they came out."

  The two deputies rode toward the ridge in the distance, leaving the Watchman standing near the edge of the trees along the river. Archie and Dieter were not in sight. When Max and Harley rode off, the watchman turned and walked back toward the mill. His task was over. Now, he just had to wait.

  Max and Harley rode slowly, listening, watching. "Ya think Dieter is ready?" Max asked.

  "Yeah, I think so. I've been watching him. He's learning and thinking before he jumps. If he does well today, I'll tell Dan to promote him."

  "I agree. So does Archie. We talked about it this morning."

  They rode a bit further when Max said, "I've still got my Sheriff's Association card…"

  "Really? I've lost mine."

  "Well, I was thinking we ought to give him something. It was just an idea…"

  "I like it. You can give it to him if he doesn't screw up. Tell him it's his deputy membership card," Harley said with a chuckle. "It'll do until we can come up with something more official. A certificate, maybe."

  "Will do."

  ****

  The threat of rain was ending. The clouds were rising allowing the morning mist to thin, making visibility easier.

  "I wish we had some radios, Max. I don't like using them as bird dogs, but neither of us could do it."

  Max glanced at Harley quickly but didn't say anything.

  They rode slowly, watching the ground and the surrounding terrain. There were tracks in a number of places, human and animal, but they were weathered; obviously more than a day old. The further they rode, the higher the ground
rose until they reached the top of the ridge around mid-day. There, they found a footpath leaving the lower trees and leading over the ridge to continue towards a cluster of buildings in the distance. Those structures appeared to be a small satellite farming village that supported Rudolstadt castle and the town. Along the path were one…two…three…four pair of tracks heading for the village and not over a day old.

  Was this Debra? He checked the map he carried. The distant buildings were in the right place to be Debra but he expected to see more people about if it were Debra. Didn't matter really, so many small villages had been abandoned while armies marched back and forth.

  "Max,” Harley ordered, "ride back along the tree line and find Archie and Dieter. I'm going to follow these tracks a bit, but I'll wait for you. You get them and follow me as quickly as you can."

  "All right, but don't go far, you old fart! Vina'd skin me if I let something happen to you."

  "Get going, I'm just going over the ridge to the other side—don't henpeck me. You aren't equipped."

  Grinning, Max rode back toward the line of trees with the reins of the two horses in hand. Harley swung his leg forward over the pommel and slid to the ground. It was easier dismounting this way. Surprisingly, his leg was not hurting; maybe the willow-bark tea worked!

  The ground was leaf-covered, masking the mud underneath. With the reins in hand, Harley followed the tracks. On the other side of the ridge, the tracks continued towards the distant buildings.

  Harley took a pair of binoculars from his saddlebags and steadied them on the back of his horse while he examined the buildings approximately half a mile away. A plume of smoke arose from one, the white smoke of a wood fire. A door opened on the side of the building, and a man stepped out, walked around to the rear of the house, and disappeared.

  Someone's home.

  There was an old, leafless oak not far off the path at the edge of a grove of smaller trees. Harley led his horse into the trees and tied its reins to a sapling. He gave the horse enough slack so that it could graze a little from the sparse ground cover. Finishing that task, he retrieved his ground cloth, rifle, canteen, and a sack from his saddlebags and spread the ground cloth behind the old oak tree and sat down. He was close enough to see if anyone came down the path but far enough off of it to be difficult to be seen. He crossed his legs, pulled some jerky from the sack, chewed off a strip, and settled down to watch the farmhouse.

  ****

  Harley continued to watch. His rifle lay across his thighs, and his elbows propped on his knees as he peered through the binoculars. He’d counted at least three different people moving around the buildings---performing what appeared to be innocuous tasks. The larger structure was similar to some of the houses in Rudolstadt, two stories high with the lower story and foundation made of bricks or stone, large enough to house a couple of families. The upper story appeared to be wooden with strong wooden trusses framing the exterior and coated with mud or plaster that had dried to the consistency of cement. The sidings and roof were either slate or wooden shake.

  He could see a door and several shuttered windows on this side and suspected there might be other doors on the far side. Smoke continued to rise from the chimney.

  The other buildings appeared to be older. One was open on one side and appeared to have been a stable at one time. The other looked more like a barn. A low stone fence encircled the three buildings. The view to Rudolstadt was blocked by another tree-covered ridge.

  While Harley was mulling over his observations, he heard movement on the path coming from his rear. It was probably Max with Archie and Dieter but it never hurt to take precautions. He picked up the M1 and moved further behind the oak tree. From here, he could easily see the path and have good cover for defense if necessary. He had one eight-round clip in the rifle, two more clips in a small pouch strapped to the stock, and a fourth in his jacket pocket. Thirty-two 30.06 rounds should suffice against four outlaws with single-shot pistols or matchlocks.

  As the sounds grew closer, he could see three horses and riders approaching on the path. It was Max and the others. A quick low whistle alerted them as he stood up.

  ****

  “See what you think of this,” Harley said. The four had crawled up the ridge until they could see the buildings without being seen. A stiff breeze had risen from the west, ruffling the weeds and their hair and adding a tint of windburn to their faces. A faint smell of wood smoke arrived with the wind. The view across the way had cleared. The noontime sun had burned off the morning fog.

  The ridgeline dropped down into a small valley with a half-filled creek at the bottom. The area between the trees along the ridge, down to the creek and up towards the farm, was open land that had been farmed at some time. The far slope rising towards the house was creased with deep gullies—the evidence of heavy erosion.

  “Max, you and Dieter go down along the left, cross the creek, and approach through the gullies. Dieter, you take the front of the farmhouse, and, Max, you watch the back and those stables. Archie and I will sneak down the right to that grove of trees, cross the creek there, and approach the house from the opposite side. I'll join Dieter at the front, and Archie will cover the barn and the right side of the farmhouse. When Dieter and I knock on the front door, they will probably bolt out the back. That's where you and Max will be waiting for them. If they don't take off, Dieter and I will go through the front door, and the two of you come in the back. That should sandwich them between us.”

  Neither Max nor Archie cared for this approach. The three of them had been trained for SWAT entrances. Dieter hadn't. “Harley,” Max said, “Archie would be better going in the front with you. He can cover you…”

  “Max,” Harley interrupted, “Dieter has the shotgun. That's what is needed. You and Archie can cover the back with your rifles. Dieter can't.”

  With that statement, Max paused, thought it over, and nodded his head. Turning his head to the other deputy, he asked, “Well, Archie, is that okay with you?”

  “Don't like it,” Archie muttered, still watching at the distant farmhouse through the binoculars. “Don't like it a’tall, but he's got a point.”

  “Then that's settled. Dieter and I will give them the standard knock and warning. If they don't come out, Dieter will kick in the door and I'll go in low and to the right. Dieter will go in to the left. Don't forget where we are. Dieter did all right last week in that tavern brawl in Staalfeld.”

  ****

  Harley could see Dieter from his location at the corner of the house. Dieter had crawled up from the gully and was watching the house from the ground through an opening in the low rock wall that surrounded the house. The remnants of a wooden gate hung from one side of the opening. Dieter's crawl had added some camouflaging mud to his clothes. Harley wasn't much better. The warmth of the day had softened the ground, and Harley's jeans and jacket were now damp and had a coating of dirt, leaves, and mud. The dampness sucked heat from Harley’s body, causing him to shiver from time to time.

  There was no one in sight and there hadn’t been any movement since they had left the eastern ridge to begin their approach to the farm. Harley could see Archie covering the barn. Catching his eye, Harley gave an interrogative hand-sign. Archie replied with another signal that all was clear.

  Harley looked back to Dieter and pointing to Dieter and then himself, indicated that they should approach the farmhouse. This would be close work. Harley laid the M1 on the ground and drew his Colt .45 pistol. He rose and quickly advanced on the farmhouse in a crouch, reaching the doorway at the same time as Dieter. The windows on each side of the door were shuttered closed. Dieter crossed to the front of the house next to the doorway, ready to kick in the door when told. Harley, slightly crouched, prepared to rush the door from the left. He would cross to the right in the interior covering the left side of the room. Dieter would rush the left side of the room to cover the right.

  Harley looked at Dieter and pointed to his ears. Dieter nodded indicating he h
ad inserted his earplugs. Harley had inserted his before he had joined Dieter at the doorway.

  “Hello the house! This is Deputy Sheriff Thomas. Come out without weapons and your hands on your head!” Harley shouted in German.

  Harley waited for a moment listening for movement or a reply. Nothing. Either they were gone or lying in wait. Finally, he nodded to Dieter to act. Dieter stood, moved to the center of the doorway, and kicked. Immediately, a shot boomed from within. Dieter spun and fell face down to the side of the doorway.

  Damn! Dieter knew better than to stand in the middle of the door! He felt a surge of anger grow within him. He had been growing more irritable as the day progressed with its wet and cold. For many people, anger flared like a flaming conflagration that led to reckless reaction. For Harley Thomas, anger was cold, quiet, and controlled, a tool to be used, and Harley Thomas was a master craftsman of that tool. Time slowed, and he dived into the room.

  As he passed through the door another shot boomed. The lead ball struck the doorframe driving wooden splinters into the side of his neck and face. Hitting the floor, he rolled onto his right side. BAM! BAM! He fired two shots at a shadowy figure standing at the back of the room with a wheel-lock pistol. The two forty-five slugs punched through the middle of the man’s breast plate about two inches apart. The outlaw took a step, fell to his knees, and then collapsed face down on the floor.

  Rising to a crouch, Harley scanned the room when a sharp blow to his back shoved him forward, back down to the floor. Harley rolled onto his side and kicked backward with his left foot, sweeping the feet out from under his attacker who then fell on top of him.

  He felt a pop and a stab of intense pain from his knee when the outlaw landed. The second outlaw had attempted to stab Harley in the back with a dirk. Harley’s body armor had blunted the blow. Unfortunately, the fall had also caused the dirk to slash his upper arm.

  ****

  Dieter appeared in the front doorway, silhouetted against the noonday light. He had been grazed by the large caliber ball that had gouged a path along his ribs. The impact had temporarily knocked the breath from him, but he was needed within to cover Harley.