Airmail

 Later, after their discussion, the Captain called the other members of the crew to reboard and be briefed on their situation. 

“Listen, y’all,” said Little Red. “You know already that there’s some weird things happening at the northwestern border area. I’ve an idea about what, but not why. So now we need to make a detour and fetch a package.”

“Time to head northwards for a bit, then.”

“What kinda package? Asked Tira.

“The one you left with the Catawba Nation last winter.”

“I was afraid you were gonna say somethin’ along those lines.” 

"It's like this," said Captain Willie. "We are going to take him over the mountain with us, into Shawnee Territory."

"Why?" asked Tira. "What did those folks ever do to us that we got to dump him on them? Sounds like some kinda punishment if you ask me."

Tira shook her head glumly. “That’s once package I would be happy not seein’ again.”

“Or smelling either,” chimed Kennia.

“Yeah, just what do we need him for, anyhow?”

“I can answer that” replied Little Red. “Your friend. . .”

“Not mine!” Tira busted in.

“Very well, your, ahem, acquaintance is related to someone of great importance to our mission. Bringing him along will get us this person’s full attention, Hopefully. And then we can get him to listen to what I have to say.”

”Which is?” Asked Tira pointedly.

”There are squatters in No man’s land between Carolina and the Shawnee lands.”

”So tell us something we don’t already know!” Burst Tira. ”There’s always some kinda fool ain’t where he’s supposed to be. Specially long any kinda border.”

Little Red nodded. ”Exactly. But these fools are trying to dig a mine without permission and they don’t intend to leave. Ever.”

Kennia whistled. ”Now that is not gonna sit well with either the Shawnee or the Tsalagi.”

”That’s an understatement.”

”I expect they’ve been keepin’ their own look-out on the borderlands, though. What makes you think they’ll want your input?” Said Kennia.

Return to the Mountains

It took several days to cross the entire piedmont region and now there were the mountains to navigate. The Sandflea was keeping to a moderate pace rather than speeding along. Her crew needed to keep an eye on the countryside as well as the sky. But it was the sky that delivered a surprise. Far in the distance the crew could see a tiny speck of an airship following them. As it came closer they could see that it was moving rapidly and meant to overtake them.

“Full stop!” Cried Captain Willie. “We gotta to see what’s goin’ on with this fella.”
“Been expecting a message, have you?” asked Kennia.
The captain shrugged. “Figured it was bound to happen. Everything so vague-like and fishy. Might as well get some more intel.”

As an airship doesn’t exactly stop on a dime so some time had passed before the Sandflea was moored. Meanwhile, the smaller airship had caught-up with them and its pilot had shimmied down a knotted rope. He waved wildly as he strode towards them.
“Hey there Miss Kennia and Miss Tira! How y’all doin’?”
Mike, for it was him, gave her hand a vigorous shake.
“What have y’all ladies done with your captain?”
“He’s still in the cockpit with the new spy lady. No need for everyone to come out. Tira and I just wanted to stretch our legs a bit.”
“I’ll just pop in and wag my jaws at him for a bit.”

Mike had been aboard the Sandflea enough times that he could easily find his own way up the ladder and to the cockpit.
“Hey there, captain! How’re you?”
“Well enough, I suppose. What news do you have?”
“You too, Miss. ‘Fraid I don’t remember your name! You must be our new lady super-sleuth, am I right?”
“My name is Rose Chavous.”
“Captain, Miss Rose,” Mike bobbed his head in greeting. Since he was very tall and the airship was cramped, his head was already bent forward but he still managed a polite dip.
“Aw, just call me Little Red!” She laughed and held out her hand in greeting. “So what’s the latest news?”

Later, after their discussion, the Captain called the other members of the crew to reboard and be briefed on their situation.
“Listen, y’all,” said Little Red. “You know already that there’s some weird things happening at the northwestern border area. I’ve an idea about what, but not why. So now we need to make a detour and fetch a package.”
“What kinda package? Asked Tira.
“The one you left with the Catawba Nation last winter.”
“I was afraid you were gonna say somethin’ along those lines.” 

It took a while

but after a few more days journey, the Sandflea's crew was once more in sight of the mountains. There was a distinct chill to the air, even though it was early summer on the coast. The mountains were their own, local climate that was more than a bit cooler than downstate, especially in the early mornings. Unfortunately, that also meant that the weather was much rainier than in the piedmont area as the warm, moist coastal breezes encountered the Blueridge Mountains and dumped their cargo of moisture as rain.

"Almost there" said Little Red. "I never did like hot weather."
Tira, who was still cross about her vacation being shortened at a moment's notice, just shrugged. She had brought some of her popular mechanics magazines with her so she wasn't entirely unhappy. But she had planned to read them while lying on the beach, not while bundled into a cramped airship.

“So what will we do when we arrive? Do you have a plan?” The Captain shrugged, “ask our new navigator. She’s the one with the intelligence, I’m mostly about the transportation.”

“Well, you are the captain, ain’t ya?” snapped Tira. “You must have some idea what we doing out here. We were in the mountains just a few weeks ago, so somethin’ must be happenin’ or we wouldn’t be heading back to soon.”

 “Oh, I have a plan, alright. A millions plans in fact,” said Little Red. “Won’t know which one is the right plan till we get there and see for ourselves, first. Then we can do the plan thang.”

Tira just rolled her eyes.

 “The wind is picking-up now that we are coming up on the foothills. I hate that calm in the Piedmont.”

More to follow!

In the airship cockpit the newest crew-member chatted with the Captain as they headed north by northwest. Clear skies and a light wind made for smooth flying over the central piedmont area of Carolina. Of course, that didn't mean that an afternoon thunderstorm wouldn't build-up suddenly, but for now they were safe.

“Somewhere around here is the remains of Cofitachequi what was.” said Captain Willie as he pointed through the windshield to the ground. “You know, the old Indian main town from when the Spanish first showed-up. Not really sure just where, of course, but somewheres hereabouts.”
“Hasn’t anyone tried to find the remains?” asked Little Red. “To investigate them?”
“Naw” answered the Captain. “No real idea of where to start. It could be just about anywhere round these parts. Then again, I think a lot of Indians don’t want it disturbed either. They don't take to outsiders putting their noses where they don't belong."
She nodded. “Understandable.”
"Tira and Kennia might know some more about it. They've got friends who are Catawba and Kennia's old school-mate is even married to a Catawba fella, but I don't know how interested they are in sharing with you. At least not until they get used to ya."
"Oh, I just kinda grow on folks. Eventually y'all won't wanna say good-bye to me!"
"We'll just have to wait and see" was the Captain's noncommittal response. Though Little Red was pretty sure she saw a slight smile under his mustache.
"Suit yerself."
"I always do."

North by Northwest

As the Sandflea flew northwestwards at a moderate speed Tira and Kennia continued their conversation about their new crew member.
“She said that Chavous was her mama’s family name, didn’t she? Wonder what happened to her daddy?”
Tira answered “And I wonder if she’s related to those Chavous.”
“Which ones? There’s folks named Chavous and Chaves all over the place in Tuscarora country.”
“You know the ones I mean.  The French ones. She sure ain't no Tuscarora.”
Kennia just shook her head. “Please, just let it be for once. We’re just on a mission together. It ain’t like we’re getting married or nothing. Let’s just focus on our work,”
Tira frowned. “I’m just saying, that’s all.”
“Well, let’s just say something else. What about your mechanics magazines? You bring some of them with you? There must be something interesting in them. That’s what you’re always tellin’ me at least.”
Tira smiled at her friend’s choice of an alternative topic.
“Yeah, we weren’t in port long enough for me to get caught-up with my readin’. I have a whole mess of readin’ to do when I’m not working. I do wish I’d had the time to give her a good look-over before we left Charleston, though.  There’s always somethin’ that needs adjusting, don’t ya know?”
Kennia patted her shoulder. “I know you’ll be busy keepin’ everything running right.” She signed as she looked at her pocket watch. “Now I must relieve our Captain before he gets too cranky from being cooped-up in that little cockpit. Maybe you oughta invent or design a bigger one for tall folks! See ya later in any case.”

                         *********************************************

Meanwhile, back at the mining camp (for that was what it really was), spring  had come to stay even in the higher reaches of the Appalachian Mountains. With the milder temperatures the men were becoming increasingly boisterous. No longer content to huddle around the wood-stove and drink coffee for warmth, a few had made some half-hearted attempts to plant a small kitchen garden as a way of passing the time. No one made any effort to plow and plant a commercial crop. The pair of oxen spent most of their days standing and chewing their cud. For better or for worse, the group had abandoned all pretense of starting a real farm. Some had taken to panning for gold in a nearby mountain stream but without much success. 

Tinned Peaches

The Sandflea’s interior was always crowded and never more so than at the beginning of a mission.  Extra supplies were crammed into every possible nook and cranny.  The ship was fast and maneuverable but she was built for speed, not luxury.  Even basic comfort could be hard to come by at times! Her crew had long since figured out how to make the most of the available space, of course.  During take-off, the captain and the navigator were in the cockpit and the rest of the crew were strapped into hanging seats just behind the cockpit. Take-off could be a bit of a bumpy ride until they reached their desired altitude and leveled off.

Once they were well underway the captain and navigator remained in the cockpit usually. But since the Sandflea had a splinter new crew-member, Captain Willy thought she should get acquainted with the airship’s layout as well as with the other crew-members.

Kennia and Tira had already headed to the crew area (it was too small to call it crew quarters!) In the back of the airship and were settling in. Tira  climbed over a carton of tinned peaches to get to her usual hammock, pulled her cap over her face, and promptly  started to snooze.  Kennia sat down on the carton and sized-up her new crew-mate.
“I envy her” said Little Red. “I get so wound-up at the beginning of a new mission that I can’t sleep to save my life.” She shook her head. “I just keep thinking over and over about all the mission details and wondering if I’ve missed something.”
“That doesn’t sound like much fun.” answered Kennia.
“No, it isn’t!”
 Kennia shrugged. She pointed to the crate on the floor. “This is the last of last year’s peach harvest. I get on good with the folks in Supply,” she grinned.
“Hope these don’t have too much sugar syrup in the cans. I hate when I taste more sugar than fruit.” Tira spoke from under her hat.
“Same here,” said Little Red. “I haven’t eaten peaches in ages!”
Tira just grunted a reply and pulled her cap further down over her face.
“Good to see that y’all are well-stocked. Who usually has kitchen duty? Or do y’all take turns? I’m not half-bad in the kitchen, even if it is a tiny one.”
“Mostly me,” replied Kennia, “and I am glad that there is someone else onboard who knows the way around an airship galley. Why don’t ya go down there now and see what ya think. We could use some better cookin’ on these trips.”
Little Red grinned and headed down the ladder to the galley quick as a wink.

Tira pulled her cap off of her face and looked around. “She gone?”
Kennia nodded.
“My god, we’ve got us a chatty one this time!”
“Least she’s awake! That’s better than Harry was. I used to wonder if we would even notice if he’d had a heart-attack and died in his chair,” answered Kennia.  “‘Sides, she’s supposed to be some kinda expert. That oughta come in handy if things get heated.”
“You mean when, don’t ya, not if,” replied Tira. “Things always get heated sooner or later.”
“Well, here’s hopin’ for later.  I for one could use some peace and quiet. Boredom even.”

Part the Third (in which we learn more of Kennia's backstory)

Kennia knew that she had only a few minutes to complete her search of the room and then exit the building.  Even if no one knew that the man was in this particular office, some must have seen him enter the building. She quickly tossed the room, no longer trying to be subtle.  She pulled drawers completely out of the cabinets and flung their contents to the floor when they proved to be of no value to her. Finally, there was only the locked cabinet remaining.

Kennia glared at the old man who was still squirming about on the floor. Rifle his pockets or pick the lock? Either way, time was running out! She figured he must have the keys to this office since he seemed used to coming and going there, so she opted for searching him.  The first chain she found held only his watch but the chain held exactly what she needed: keys! His keychain was heavy with keys but only a few were the small sort that would fit into a cabinet door-lock. Kennia quickly tried each in turn with the third one being the one to open the door. Yes! Here were the sorts of plans and schematics that could be the object of her search. Some of the plans were for a new type of boat, one designed to move under the water rather than over it. Fortunately the dossier was only about an inch thick so it wouldn’t be too difficult to pack. She wrapped it in the oilskin she’s brought for just this purpose and slipped it into her bucket under some of the damp cleaning rags.  Now it was time to escape!

She carefully closed and locked the cabinet door; hopefully, anyone who found the old man would think that a scuffle had taken place rather than industrial espionage. If she was really lucky, the man himself would be too embarrassed to admit to the night’s events and would try to keep the entire incident a secret. She turned to where he was still glaring daggers at her from his position on the floor.

Kennia dropped her working-class dialect as she addressed him. “Like I said earlier, it might be awfully hard to explain how you came to be in this position. You might seriously consider keeping your mouth closed on the matter.  Unless you like looking like a fool.” She turned and headed for the door. The entire episode had taken just over an hour. If she tried to leave the building now someone might notice and ask why she was leaving early. On the other hand, she didn’t dare risk that one of the other cleaners might chance upon her captive lying on the floor. Then she had an idea. She went out of the office and into the hallway and grabbed a bucket of water that the cleaning crew used to rinse their dirty rags and mops. She tucked the oilskin package in its covering safely out of the way and then upended the bucket of dirty water over her skirt. Damn it stunk! But now she has an excuse if anyone asked why she was leaving early.

Sure enough, the foreman gave her the stink-eye as she was going out the side door to the building.  “Where ya goin’ gal? It ain’t quittin’ time and I know that you ain’t finished yer cleanin’.”
“Yeah, boss, I spilled dirty water all over myself and now I need to go home and get clean.”
“Ya leave now, then don’t bother comin’ back. And don’t even think about askin’ fer pay. Ya can’t have worked hardly two hours.”
“No suh, I surely ain’t comin’ back.” Kennia shook her head. She felt herself starting to shake from the strain of her act. She breathed deeply to calm herself.
“Don’t ya start cryin’ now, “ warned the foreman. “If yer leavin’ on account of that someone tried to mess wit ya, maybe I can help ya get on someplace else. There’s heaps of these offices that need cleanin’ around here.”
Kennia was touched by the unexpected kindness in his voice. “No suh, I reckon I got to get me some other kinda work is all. But thank you fer askin’ anyways.”
“Suit yerself” he shrugged and turned away. Now that was a lucky break!

Part the Second (in which we learn more of Kennia's backstory)

This office appeared to be the right one for finding plans and blueprints. In fact there were far too many of them and the search was taking too much time. Yes! Here was pay dirt in plenty! She quickly flipped through files and notebooks, hunting for the elusive “doomsday machine” blueprints. And then, just as her eye caught a likely looking file folder, Kennia heard a noise out in the corridor. She quickly grabbed her soapy cleaning rag and started scrubbing at a spot on the surface of the large, mahogany desk. “Oh, no! Don’t let me get caught this close to success,” she worried. Her fear made her scrub all the harder and she almost didn’t notice when the door opened and a wrinkly old white man came into the room.  He was dressed in full plantation finery, complete with a string tie and straw hat to top-off his linen suit.
“Come here, gal, and let me get a look at ya,” said the old man.
Kennia played meek and dumb for all she was worth.
“Do you mean me, sir? I’m just doin’ the cleanin’, sir. It gets powerful dirty here sometimes. It surely does.”
“Never mind that. I told you to come over here where I can see ya. Stand by that lamp.” The old man pointed at the one he meant.
“Yes sir. Just as soon as I get done cleanin’ sir.” Kennia answered. She was so nervous at this point that she almost wasn’t acting the tremor in her voice. She was not about to let him get a good look at her face. Kennia knew that her best asset was the fact that poor women aren’t noticed much. She was just a pair of hands and a scrub brush to most of the people she’d encountered while in disguise.
The old man became more and more insistent and his tone turned from cajoling to spiteful.
“Now look here, colored gal. I just told you to come over by this lamp. Are you feeble-minded? When you get an order, you obey it!”
“Yes sir. I’ve got my cleanin’ to do, sir. Please just let me go about my business.” Kennia tried to circle round the fellow so that she could exit from the only door.  Unfortunately, he was prepared and stepped between her and the door. He took another step towards her and reached for her arm. She quickly jumped out of his reach which made him even angrier.
“Now I won’t be sassed by some uppity colored gal, do ya hear me?”
“Just let me be sir and I’ll just get goin’ on my way. I don’t want no trouble or nuthin’” She made one last attempt to reach the door but Kennia could see that playing dumb wasn’t working.  She smiled grimly yet the old man was too enraged to notice.
The old man took one more step towards her only to find himself being spun about and his right arm twisted behind his back. Kennia wrapped her right arm around his throat, allowing him barely enough air to keep him conscious.
“I ain’t no “colored gal” and I sure as hell ain’t no plaything!” she hissed.  The man gave a surprised grunt in response. “I expect you have a habit of wandering around here, sneaking up on the good-looking gals and seeing what you can get away with.  I don’t play that nonsense. Now I expect that you will not be cooperative so I’m just gonna tie you up for safe-keeping. I expect someone will find you tomorrow morning and let you loose.  But you might not want to tell them how you got this way. Might sound kinda embarrassing in fact.” As she spoke, Kennia deftly slipped a bit of cord around the right wrist and then the left.  His face was red from rage even though he still couldn’t manage to shout for help.  Kennia took some of her cleaning rags and stuffed them into his mouth, being sure to tie one around his head to hold the others in place. Then she tied his ankles as well. As soon as she released her grip on him, the old man sank to the floor, completely helpless although still angry enough to struggle.

Part the First (in which we learn some of Kennia's backstory)

Gentle Readers (at least I hope there is more than one of you!), for this month’s story chapter we will go back in a time a few weeks and then back even further.

Kennia looked at the assembled Coquettes. Outwardly she was still laughing but the experience had not been nearly as carefree as she made out to her audience. She still replayed the events of that evening in her head as she lay in bed at night. . .

She was up north on a mission, out by herself, and trying to be discrete.  Her plan was to pretend to be a charwoman sent by an agency to clean offices. She figured this would give her an opportunity to peek into drawers and filing cabinets undetected. Cleaning crews weren’t well paid for their hard work and so people often quit on short notice and were replaced so no one would think it was odd to see a strange woman appear one evening. Kennia was dressed in a well-worn old woolen frock that would be typical for a working-class woman coming to the big city to look for employment. She had successfully carried out this plan on several other occasions. In fact this engineering firm was the last place left on her list and she was becoming increasingly worried that she would not find what she was after: plans, or at least a detailed description, of a rumored doomsday weapon.

The fabric of the old frock she was wearing was scratchy and she periodically stopped to adjust it, hoping for more comfort. She had a wooden bucket filled with soap and rags hung over her arm. And in the bottom of the bucket was a bit of oilskin in which to wrap any finds that she might make. Kennia sighed, straightened her bonnet for the fourth or fifth time, and walked up to the office building. The women from the regular cleaning crews were already waiting in the alley behind the building. One of them was the contact that had tipped Kennia about the likelihood of the plans being there but she couldn’t read very well and wasn’t sure which papers, if any, were useful. Kennia was careful not to show that she recognized the woman but just followed her and the others into the building.

The woman, Mary, turned to Kennia, “New gal, I gotta show ya what ya gotta clean,” and led her up several flights of stairs to the fourth floor.
“Here. I reckon this is a good place for you to start workin’. But first get ya some water in that bucket and get your soap and rags all lathered up  just fine.”
Kennia smiled. “Thank ya, kindly. I’ll just get to work now.”
The other woman grimaced. “Be careful now.” As she hurried down the corridor towards the stairs, she looked over her shoulder one last time and gave a little wave to Kennia.

The entire fourth floor of the building was occupied by an engineering firm, McMasters and Tate, but much of the space was used as laboratories. After fetching some water, Kennia took the first office on the right and began pretending to dust. Although there were locks on the desk drawers, none of them actually were locked.  She rifled through them and through the filing cabinet without hitting pay dirt. Kennia sighed.  Another dead end. She proceeded to the second office, one that was large and contained several filing cabinets and cupboards as well as a massive, mahogany desk. 

A matter of definitions

Back at the Charleston airship docks, the Captain tried to rally his crew's enthusiasm for their new crew mate.
“Told y’all this one was different!” he smirked.
“She’s, she’s white” said Kennia.
Tira’s expression was a study in consternation. “White folks been known to fall offa this ship. Just sayin’.”
“Now, now,” said the Captain. “Harry is white, too.”
“Naw,” said Kennia. “He’s Irish. Everybody knows that they aren’t really white even though they’ve got really pasty skins. Just look how they were treated in their own country by the English. The Irish were “just trash” same as well as brown-skinned folks are here and in Africa.”
Tira frowned in disapproval.
“This gal has a French last name and you know what that means. She’s some kinda Euro-trash no doubt.”
“She’s got red hair,” answered the Captain. “Maybe she’s got some Irish in her. Anyway, she’s our new workin’ partner an’ that’s that. ‘Sides, she’s only here for one mission so Tira, please make sure she doesn’t fall offa the ship.”
“At least not until after we don’t need her anymore” added Kennia.
“At least y’all have got another woman aboard. I’m the one who’s outnumbered by all y’all gals. And its not like you miss Harry, either. I don’t remember either one of y’all bein’ too fond of him.”
Tira just pressed her lips together while Kennia busied herself with checking her carpetbag and its contents.
“I can see this is gonna be a long trip,” muttered the Captain to himself.


****************************************

I've been wrestling (or wrastlin' as our airship crew would say) with this chapter for at least 2 weeks. I am trying to figure-out how to show the ugliness of racism while avoiding being ugly or using hurtful language, even in an example. I will NEVER use the "n-word" here at any time no matter what point I am trying to make. On the other hand racism is real and it is ugly and one of my motivations for writing this story is to fight racism by showing that it was not "inevitable."

Azie D. does a good job explaining the "Irish thing" in her video:

Hi-falutin'

At the Trading Post, now known by the appellation Grumbley’s General Store:

0utside the store a heavy-set man was standing on an upturned barrel and waving a hammer. He turned to the group standing behind him and asked “This look straight, y’all?”
“Naw, raise up the left side a bit, just an inch or so.”
“You just had me raise-up the right side.”
“And ya raised it too much” was the answer.
“An yer a half-blind old coot, so maybe ya can’t see if the dang thing is even or not!”
“Aw, just nail it up and be done with it. I’m gettin’ a chill and my mug is empty.” He held his tin mug upside down to demonstrate.
Nate Grumbley laughed and pounded one last nail into place. He climbed down from the barrel and surveyed his handiwork with satisfaction. A newly painted sign stated that the building housed Grumbley’s General Store. Personally, he would have preferred to call it an emporium. That sounded so much finer and like a big city department store in one of the modern, tall buildings in Baltimore or New York. Some of them were 10 stories tall! He’d even heard tell of a newfangled contraption called an elevator invented by a fellow by the name of Elisha Otis.
“That’ll do. My arms are fixin’ to fall off my shoulders. I’ll put a fresh pot of coffee to cook and Jed there can add some of his secret ingredient.”
“What makes ya think I got enough to share?” demanded Jed.
“Don’t ya usually? I’m tired of standing out here in this cold mountain air. I am goin’ inside!” and he did just that.


********************

At the Great Council House of the Shawnee Nation:
Several of the elders warmed themselves at the fire and discussed a matter that was causing them increasing concern.

“Perhaps this is larger than a simple incursion. I think that we should confer with our friends to the east.”
“That is agreeable to me as well.”
A third man turned to an ancient man sitting a small distance apart from the others.
“What do you think, Grandfather? We need your guidance. I know that you do not approve of consulting outsiders about our affairs but perhaps it is necessary.”
The others nodded differentially. Although extremely old, the elder still had a sharp mind and his advice, though rarely given, had great weight with his people.

“Yes,” answered Tecumseh. “We must meet with our friends and see what they know of this situation. Years ago I fought the white man so that we would be able to live freely and without interference with our traditional ways. Many times I nearly died in battle fighting side by side with my brothers from other nations. Now we must meet and talk together yet again and see if we face a new threat to our sovereignty.”

****************************

OBS!!! Yes, I know that Tecumseh died at the Battle of the Thames fighting alongside the British against the United States in 1813 in our timeline. But in the CFS timeline the coalition led by him won many battles and established the Shawnee Nation as a political power as well as a military power to contend with.

I also apologize for taking so long to add the second bit of this chapter! Mea culpa!!!

The Cat is Still Dancin'

“The barges to ship the ore will be waiting downstream soon. But ve must be getting the ore to the barges quietly. Ve cannot haf the vildingar getting the suspicions, no? If they attack then ve must shoot them and that is not good.”
“Herr, um, sir, I think what we are doing is not right. We are telling lies and sneaking about. It is not honest.”
“Hans, you are a good fellow but you do not see the big picture. And you worry too much. All the time worrying about the men, about the weather, about the work. Relax. The vildingar are simple people. I know this. I haf studied about them at the university before I come here. They are busy with their primitive rituals, these nature folk. They have not evolved as we have and do not have the rational thinking abilities that we have. That is why they have no great monuments and universities.”
“Herr Doktor” said Hans. “I know that you are an educated man and that you are smarter than me. But I think you are wrong in your opinion of these peoples.”
“Indeed.” The Geologist’s good humour suddenly evaporated. “So little Hans knows better now, hum? Perhaps you think that you should be in charge? Since you know so much better than educated scientists? How much schooling have you, Hans?”
Hans blushed. His lack of formal education had always been an embarrassment to him, especially when in the company of academics such as the professor.
“No sir. I do not think I know best. But I think even educated men make mistakes sometimes. They sit in universities and libraries but they do not go and live among the folk they write about.” Hans was surprised at his own audacity in responding to the professor’s condescension.
“Even smart men can be wrong sometimes. They are only human, isn’t that so, sir?”
“Yes it is!” snapped the professor. “All the same I do not need advice from an ignorant little peasant such as yourself. You should not be setting yourself up above your betters.”
Hans stared down at his shoes. The conversation had clearly taken a turn for the worse.
“Well?” asked the Geologist. “Have you anything more to say?”
“I just think that these people are not dumb as you think they are. And we are not doing what we said we would. You told the Shawnee leader that we were just some farmers. But here we are stealing copper ore from under their grounds. We do not have their leave to do this. It is wrong.”
“That is enough of your babbling, Hans! It is your job to oversee the men. You do not make the decisions here. Now do your job.”
The professor turned back to his desk and looked pointedly at the papers spread upon it. Hans sighed. He was genuinely surprised at himself. He usually deferred to the geologist both because of the man’s greater age and his higher level of education. That was the way of things in Hans’ little village when he was growing up. The fine folk made decisions and the ordinary folk followed their instructions.
“But maybe that isn’t the only way to live.” thought Hans. “Maybe in this different land there were different ways of doing things.”

Cat on a Hot Copper Roof

Hans sat on the crudely made wooden bench outside of the mining crew cabin. The air was almost warm now that early summer had arrived and he was glad to indulge in a few minutes of sun-bathing after all the spring rain-storms.
“Somebody is a wee bit hung-over now.”
Hans looked-up at the miner. “No, I am just tired and maybe a little bit sick.”
“Sick and tired of this place I’ll bet!” the man laughed, not unkindly.
“I thought everything would be good when we found the copper veins. The men would be busy working but instead they are more unhappy than before.”
“Don’t worry. We are just bored. There’s next to nothing to do here. No saloons, no brothels, not even a general store nearby. It’s not so strange that a few of the men have been wandering off. Let them have  their bit of fun where they can.”
“What kind of fun is this?”asked Hans. “You just now said that there is nothing to do here.”
“Oh, ya know. Just a bit of slap-and-tickle with some local gals.”
Hans squinted. “There aren’t any local gals in this area. Just us. That’s one reason why the professor picked it, to be discrete.”
The other man laughed, “Ya know what I mean! Some of these redskin gals are hot stuff.”
Now Hans was becoming concerned. “Do not tell me that there are native women sneaking into this camp. That is not possible when it is so crowded here. I would see them.”
“Naw, some of the fellas just sorta run across them in the woods. They run wild here, ya know, just like the deer. They ain’t even half-civilized or nuthin’, just runnin’ wild.
“That is not good,” responded Hans. “Not good at all. It is a shame that these men do not have wives and families to keep them happy when they are not working. But it is not good to run wild in the woods like an animal.”
He sighed. What sort of mischief were they up to now? Back in Amsterdam he had signed-up for an adventure or so he thought at the time. This job had all the earmarks of a nightmare.
He excused himself to his companion and headed up the path to the professor’s tent. As usual he waited at the entrance until invited to enter.
“Herr Doktor? I mean, sir? There are some things we must talk about. About the mining and how long it is taking.”
Fortunately the geologist was in a good humour. He even waved his hand towards the coffee pot simmering on the stove and invited Hans to take a cup.
“So vat shall ve talk about today, Hans? Are the men behaving badly again?”
“No sir, they are working hard. I just wonder sometimes what to do with them when they are not working. It is good for them to be busy and not fighting or getting into trouble.”
“I vould tink they would be all tired, no? After working hard all day?”
“I thought so as well. And most of them are but now I think I must look more closely.” Hans sighed yet again.
“And you thought this vould be an adventure where you vould travel and see ze wilderness, ja?”
Hans nodded sheepishly.
“You are a young man. There is plenty of time for adventures. Now ve mine the copper, now ve make ze money, ja? Later ve have ze fun.”

Little Red

The two women gathered at the Charleston Airship Docks promptly at 4 am were both grumpy and half asleep.
“Wonder where the Captain is.” grumbled Tira. She looked around and noticed that someone else was missing. “What about Harry, our beloved navigator?”
“I wonder where the navigator is,” answered Kennia. “Wonder if he fell so soundly asleep that he just plain forgot about us.
Then Captain Willie sauntered up to them with a bit of a grin just waiting to bust out. “I have a little surprise for y’all. We’re gettin’ a new navigator on this trip. And this one is, ahem, different.
“How different?” demanded Tira.
“Just wait and see,” he smirked. “She’ll be along any minute now.”
“She? Ain’t you startin’ to fee1 outnumbered?” teased Kennia. But the Captain just chuckled to himself.
Captain Willie replied evasively, “oh, I talked to headquarters. That’s why we’re gettin’ a new navigator. One that’s better.”
“We can only hope,” muttered Tira.
“Now, now.”
“Sounds like an interesting trip already,” grumbled Tira. “You know how I feel about surprises, especially when I ain’t even all awake.”
“Oh, you’ll like this one. I promise!”
“Now I am gettin’ worried too,” Said Kennia. “Who or what have you dug-up this time?”
“Let’s get some tea and biscuits while we wait” suggested Captain Willie. “It’s on the company’s tab  anyway.
“And they make some damn fine chicken biscuits here. I could use a couple. I didn’t want to wake my sister and her family by messin’ about in the pantry.” said Tira.
“I don’t see how you can even think about food at this hour of the morning,” replied Kennia.
“A little bit hung-over are we?” asked the Captain.

They had just settled down at a small table with their food when the door opened and in walked a tiny little woman.
“Howdy y’all! You must be the crew of the Sandflea, right? My name is Rose Chavous, but everyone calls me Little Red.”
Little Red was skinny with a large quantity of red hair piled up on the top of her head. Her most notable feature, the hair was piled higher than was currently fashionable. A pair of hair sticks did their best to contain the main mass but there was a fringe of small tendrils making a stealthy escape.  

Hot tin roof on a summer's day

Before Hans could reach the professor’s tent there was a hair-raising shriek emitted from it. “Eureka! I haf found it! I haf found where to dig for the copper!”
Hans began to run up the path. The old man’s timing could not be better! With useful work to do the men should settle down. At least he hoped so since he really didn’t have any intention of shooting at anyone, let alone hitting him. Hans laughed in relief!

“Herr professor! Herr professor! Is it true? We can start with the mining now?”
The professor grunted smugly. “You seemed to be in need of some, shall we say, assistance, so I came to your aid.”
Hans looked puzzled.
“Ja, I put my head out of the tent more often than you think.

“Yes! I am so happy now. The men are more and more unruly. But now there is some useful work to be done. Now they will be busy and not have time for the mischief!”

“Indeed.” He peered over his glasses at the younger man. “Yes, it is high time that we started.” He pointed at the geological survey maps spread over the camp-desk before him. “Here und here. I knew the copper veins must be here. I know for certain now.  Here they shall start the digging. Then we must store the ore until we can send it to a smelter. That will not be easy. Hmmm.” He lapsed into silence.
Hans nodded in assent.
“Hans, soon we must speak with our friends in Virginia.”
“Sir, isn’t this a little bit too soon?”
“It vill take some time to set-up so, no. And we are behind schedule as it iz. They will be expecting some answers soon.
“Yes sir!” Hans nodded.

********************************

Meanwhile in Charleston, the Captain and his crew drank their ginger beer and the discussion returned to their original topic. Mike opined that the French must be behind the suspected mining operation but Captain Willie disagreed.
“What good would that do them? It is too far away from their remaining strongholds. They would have to ship it on barges down river to the Mississippi river and then down to New Orleans.”
“Maybe through Shawnee territory?”
“I don’t think so. You know how they feel about folks passing through their lands without permission. And I don’t see them giving permission any time soon.”
“What about shipping the ore upriver to the Great Lakes area?” asked Tira. “There’s ore smelters there already.”
“Pardon me, Miss Tira, for contradictin’ a lady. But what would be the point of running mines this far south?”
“I don’t know,” said the Captain. “And I don’t want to speculate. Let’s just get out there and find-out.” He turned to Kennia, “Be sure and bring lots of the dynamite you cooked-up. I expect we’re gonna need it!”

Things are heatin' up

Hans reflected upon the story he’d told the shopkeeper about needing to bake more biscuits.  Indeed, he would have been very pleased to have a batch of freshly baked biscuits, all nice and hot and flakey with big chunks of fresh butter melting into the pastry. Unfortunately the biscuits baked by the camp cook fell far short of this vision. In fact almost everything rustled up on the potbellied stove in what passed for the camp kitchen was rather far from appetizing. Mac could open a tin with the best of them; it was what he did with the contents that was objectionable!

The spring thaw had left the ground muddy. In sheltered places on the mountainside there were even a few patches of snow remaining. Hans swore as he stumbled over the handle to a shovel that was half submerged in the muck. Now that the ground was no longer frozen the time definitely had come for a cleaning detail.





They were a rough and unkept group of men at best. Several scowled at Hans as he gathered them together in front of the cabins.
“Men,” began Hans, “Look here. I know that the winter was damp and unpleasant.” He paused for effect. “But allowing the camp to fall apart will only make matters worse, won’t it? We must all work together and clean this area where we are living.”
Some of the men laughed. One said, “We were hired as miners, not as garbage collectors. So far this expedition has been a total flop.  You spend all your time running back and forth to His Highness there in the tent while we get left to sit and rot.”
The entire group nodded in agreement.
“Yes, yes. Soon there will be mining work. This I promise you! But first we must clean a bit.”
“That’s women’s work! Ya want a maid, who don’t we head-out and grab us a few squaws. They’re hard workers and good for other things too, if ya know what I mean.” The man speaking looked around with a leer. “Am I right, fellas?”
“See here! No one, absolutely no one is to leave this camp without my permission! Do you understand me?” Hans was almost screaming at this point. “No one!”
“You told us we would come out here and stake claims and mine for copper.” chimed in another miner. “All we’re doin’ is sitting around on our backsides. And we are sick of it, do you hear me?”
Hans could feel himself losing control of the situation. “I hear more talk like this, I get gun! I get gun and shoot. Do you hear me?” Hans English was deteriorating as he became increasingly distressed.
“Alright, alright, hold onto your britches. No need to get all mad like. Some of the fellas have just needed to let off some steam so to speak. Now everybody just calm down a mite and we can put this thing to rest.” Nate was the oldest of the miners at 45 years of age and was also the most cool-headed. If shooting broke out, then no one would make any money.
Hans was so angry that he was shaking but he managed to nod agreement at Nate.
Nate turned and addressed Hans, Why don’t you talk with the doc about those survey maps and meantime me and these fellas can tidy-up the place a bit.” He turned back towards the other miners, “Sounds like a good idea, don’t it fellas? Then we can put on a fresh pot of coffee and have a bite to eat.
Hans nodded again. “Ja, um, yes! Is goot! I am going to talk with the doc now.” 

Ginger Beer

Spring in Charleston was beautiful, if humid, and not yet so warm as to make folks miserable. There was no shortage of parasols and paper fans in motion and nothing beat the heat like a refreshing ginger beer!

Kennia joined the Captain and Tira at a corner table towards the back of the main room of the saloon. “Hey, y’all. I got your message? Or are we mostly here to drink beer? They serve a mighty refreshin’ ginger beer here but that is about all this place has goin’ for it.”
“Have a seat” answered the Captain and gestured to the empty chair on his right.
“This place has somethin’ else goin’ for it” said Tira. “It is quiet and we won’t be disturbed.”
“Have a beer and let’s get to business” said the Captain.
“Then we can get to the drinkin’ part of the evenin’. I’ve got news from headquarters and it ain’t good.”
Kennia groaned. “Not more rumor and innuendo is it? I want to hear somethin’ concrete for once or I am outa here. She made no move to rise from her seat though.
“Just sit still and listen then. Remember a couple of months ago when we were up in the mountains and we acquired a passenger as well as a courier pouch?”
Both Kennia and Tira nodded. Who could forget whiny, smelly Ole Toby?
“Well headquarters has put two and two together and finally come-up with four. There is some kinda illegal mining operation goin’ on. That’s why they were after the latest geological surveys that were in that courier pouch. We don’t know who is doin’ the mining or how and why they picked these mountains but we need to investigate.”

                                    *******************************

Mike stepped up to the bar, “Just my usual, thanks.” He leaned against it and gave the room a thorough looking-over. Seeing a few of his mates at a back table, he grabbed his beer, ambled over and pulled up a chair.
“Whatcha doin’ fellas? And lady?” he added as he noticed Tira. “Fancy meetin’ you here, Miss Tira.
Tira smiled in response, “Oh, I do like to step-out once in a while. And this was just too fine an evening to spend sittin’ at home.”
“What are you drinkin’ this fine evening, ma’am?”
“Oh, just a ginger beer. Nothin’ too strong.”
“And may I buy you a fresh one?” inquired Mike.
“You certainly may, sir.”
During this exchange Captain Willie nudged Kennia. “See? What did I tell ya? She definitely likes him” he hissed.
Kennia just rolled her eyes. “You and your match-making! You used to try and match me up with fellas as well, remember?”
“That’s different.”
“No it ain’t! You’ve just got Noah’s Ark syndrome. Think everybody has to go two by two” she hissed back at him.
At this point Mike retured with a fresh ginger beer which he proceeded to ope and pour into a glass.
“Thank you, Mike. You are truely a gentleman” beamed Tira.

Up to No Good

Hans reflected as he rode along the trail. This mission was proving more and more not to be the mission that he had signed-on for. Or thought that he was signing-on for. As if that made any difference. He was increasingly tempted to just ride west and simply keep going as long as his horse was willing to carry him. The problem was that he had nowhere to go and the horse he was riding, its tack, and even much of his gear technically did not belong to him. And stealing just somehow did not seem to be a good start to making a new life. Besides, this mission to the Blue Ridge mountains was supposed to be a fresh start for him and look at how it was turning-out!

***********************

Back at the Trading Post the usual gang was sitting around the pot-bellied stove, smoking their pipes and drinking coffee from the pot bubbling on the stove-top.
“How ‘bout that foreign feller? What was his name now? Hank? Hinky?”
“Naw, it was Hunky, I’m sure of it.”
“Now you know that ain’t no name, not even for a foreign feller!” The others laughed.
“Are y’all sure now? I coulda sworn it was Hanky or Hunky or sumpthin’ like that.”
“Naw, it was Hans,” said the Trading Post owner from behind the counter. “I’m sure of it.”
“Whatever. He sure is doin’ a powerful lotta bakin’ though!” They all laughed raucously at that comment.
“Wonder how long it’ll take him to figure-out that we’re on to him. He sure ain’t no farmer, ain’t no family man and sure as hell ain’t up to no good.”
“Hell we ain’t up to no good neither!” The old-timers all guffawed at that.


                     ******************************************

The courier, Mad Man Mike, had earned his nickname fair and square due to his propensity for setting-off on a straight course at top speed and not letting anything hinder him from reaching his destination. Not rivers, not forests and certainly not brick walls were sufficient to slow his progress. Mad Man Mike was the courier the head office called upon for their most urgent, top-secret deliveries. Unfortunately, this meant that he was a regular visitor to the local hospital since he not infrequently developed a few bumps, bruises and other more serious injuries as he went on his way.

Coffee or not coffee, that is the question

Hans couldn’t resist a rueful smile as he headed towards the tent that served the project master as both residence and office. It was heated by a small camp stove that usually had a pot of coffee cooking on its top. A cup of hot coffee struck Hans as a mighty good idea!

The spring day was a bit chill due to the mountain breeze and Hans was not surprised to see his superior’s tent flap was tightly closed. The three log cabins clustered nearby were much warmer inside but this was partly due to them being overly full of people. The engineer insisted that he could not work under such crowded conditions. And that was understandable, Hans admitted to himself. Most of the crew were an uncouth lot and none of them had bathed properly in months, if ever. The combine odour of sweat, cheap whiskey and tobacco was enough to make a man gag. Add in the belching and farting caused by a diet heavy on tinned beans and the atmosphere was positively explosive!

Since there was no proper door upon which to knock, Hans stood outside the canvas flap that served as a door and spoke loudly to announce his presence.
“Sir? May I come in?”
There was no distinct response but Hans chose to interpret the muffled noise that came from inside the tent as assent and pushed aside the tent flap.

“Sir!” Hans greeted his superior. “We could use some of the men to plant crops. I know that they are miners, not farmers, but surely they could put their hands to the job. It would help keep up appearances and also give them something to do besides quarrel amongst themselves. And we could use the extra food.”
“Controlling the men, it is your job. Do what you must. If you need more food then purchase it!”
Hans replied patiently, “The man at the Trading Post is getting more and more suspicious about the amount of supplies I am buying. Soon he will stop believing that I am buying for a small group of farmers altogether.”
“Do not trouble me with your petty problems! I have my own concerns.”
“Is there a problem with the geological survey, sir?”
“There is copper in this rock! I know that there is. Many veins of it in fact. Why cannot vi find it?”
“Perhaps the geological survey records are faulty? Or just plain mistaken?”
“Or maybe it is your men who are stupid! They are too stupid to find the veins of the copper in the rocks.”
Hans glanced wistfully over at the coffee pot. He would really have preferred to discuss the matter over a steaming mug but that didn’t seem to be happening.

To bake or not to bake

 Back at the Distribution Office Captain Willie James was once more headed down the interminable corridors leading to the boss’ office. In the main office, Mrs. Jackson, who was not at all pleased at the appellation “Ole Lady” and preferred to be addressed as “ma’am,” was seated at her desk. “Good to see you, Captain. Have a seat.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of a lumpy armchair clad in brown leather.

“Now I know that y’all can’t be meaning to send us out again so soon after we just got back. We ain’t hardly had time to rest-up or nothin’.”
“Nothing of the sort. This is just a chance to relay some news. We have some additional reports from our contacts at the Shawnee Nation. They had no definite news but have seen some suspicious behaviour on the part of so-called farmers.”
The Captain shrugged. “I don’t know nothin’ about farmin’ so I don’t see what I can do here. You got some bad guys that needs shootin’, then I’m your man.”
“No farming is required, thankfully, and we would prefer to avoid the shooting as well. Although I am aware that is not always possible. To get to the matter at hand, though, the Shawnee have discovered a some questionable activities along one of their borders and currently are monitoring the situation. They gave permission to a group of farmers to settle in an empty valley in the Blue Ridge Mountains but now they suspect that these settlers are up to more than they let on. The Shawnee will send more information as they collect it. You and your crew need to be ready to fly at a moment’s notice.”
“We always are!”
Mrs. Jackson nodded “Glad to hear that” as she waved the Captain towards the office door.

“Now that was a big, fat waste of my time” muttered the Captain to himself on the way out of the building. “Just what does she think we do all day?”

                                      ********************************

Indeed, a few days later in an isolated mountain valley, the young man, Hans, was preparing the wagon so that he could ride back to the Trading Post and fetch the bags of flour. Poor Hans was eager to remedy his earlier nervous mistakes by appearing completely nonchalant as he completed his task. He took the trail slowly since the wagon was none so sturdy and he didn't want to break an axle. This gave him plenty of time for reflection since at his slow pace the journey from the settlement to the Trading Post took almost two hours. He hitched the horses out front and ambled into the Trading Post.

A modern recreation of an old Country Store or Trading Post.