Kloee glared at Emery, as Dakota held up a dried cob. "So this is the big deal you found to get us some extra money?" Kloee and her kin were meeting in Papaw Murray's barn because it was the one place they could go without some adult looking over their shoulders. Kin in this case meant her brother Emery, her sister Dakota, little brother Zackie, and sort-of-cousins Freddie Bates, Franz Meyers-Bates, Wilhelm Engling-Bates, called WB, and Sybella Doebling-Bates, who everyone just called Sybie. Some up-timer, some down-timer, but all family.
"You know that me and Emery go with Papaw Murray when he goes out," Dakota said proudly. "Well, Papaw's friends, the Knapps, kind of pick up something for him. And that got me an idea how to make some money." A conspiratorial look appeared on Dakota's face. When no one asked her what the Knapps bought for her grandfather, she blurted, "Tobacco! Papaw smokes when he ain't home and Granny Murray can't catch him."
Kloee laughed. "Like Granny Murray don't know everything Papaw does. Papaw ain't half as smart as he thinks."
"So what does a dried-up, broken corncob have to do with anything?" Franz asked.
"Well, how do you think Papaw smokes his tobacco?" Dakota responded sharply. "Ain't you heard anyone complain about no paper fit to roll cigarettes or how expensive pipes are?"
Freddie tugged at the skull-and-cross-bone earring he wore. "Sure," he mumbled. "I hear that sorta thing from Frau Meyers. She has bugged Papa about finding a way to make paper for cigarettes."
"Okay, Dakota, go ahead and tell us how a no-good, broken corncob's going to make us some spending money," Kloee ordered. She was rewarded with an icy stare from Dakota.
"Well, Papaw says that down-timer pipes is too expensive and he just holla's out an ol' corncob and a elderberry twig and makes his own pipe. Don't cost nothin' to make and lasts awhile."
"I don't think we can make money that way," said Sybie.
"Sure we can," WB interjected. "Papa says that there are lots of people smoking tobacco 'cause the English, French, Dutch, and Spanish is all growing and selling it right now and ain't a lot a people saying it ain't good for you."
"I don't know," Kloee said. "How we going to sell them if we do make them? I don't know no one that smokes and I sure ain't gonna stand on a corner in Grantville and sell them." Becoming a street vendor would be very undignified and spoil her image in school. After all, she was fourteen now and had an image to maintain. She wasn't like Dakota, who kept her hair cropped short and dressed like a boy. Besides, selling pipes at school would be a quick way to get expelled. That wasn't happening, either. She could just see her friends buying corncob pipes and smoking. How gross would that be?
"We make them and my grandmother can sell them," Franz said proudly.
"Sure; and the Hun will take all the money and save it for us, too," Freddie added scornfully. Frau Meyers showed each of them the money she put into their own accounts every month-accounts they couldn't touch. She even put half their allowances into the bank for them. Mama Margaretha thinking it was a great idea and Papa not wanting to go against Frau Meyers on the matter of banking didn't help, either.
"Don't call my grandmother 'the Hun,'" Franz snapped. His peevishness drew snickers from WB and Sybie.
"I don't want old Frau Meyers managing my money or anything else," Dakota spoke up. "I don't care if she is Franz's granny, she's a nasty old woman."
"We need something we can make and sell ourselves so we can buy some things we want." Kloee commented in order to head off a battle between Franz, Freddie, and Dakota and because she could think of a bunch of things she wanted that no one would buy for her or give her the money for right now. It seemed she would have to make the money to buy them herself.
Her comment had been too little too late. The meeting broke down when everyone started yelling and arguing. Freddie and Franz were near blows over comments about Frau Meyers. Sybie and Dakota were arguing about the way a girl should act at school-nothing to do with money at all. WB was just sitting off to the side, looking irritated and ready to leave.
"Enough!" Kloee yelled. "Let's just get back to the stupid pipes." If the bickering kept up, Granny Murray would be out here, giving all of them grief.
"Good. I'm tired of this squabbling," WB said. "Go ahead, Dakota."
Kloee's sister smiled at the fourteen-year-old boy. Dakota had a nice smile and it wasn't lost on WB.
"Okay, this is how this works," Dakota began. "You have to have a good corncob to start with. Just any old cob ain't gonna do."
"Papaw says it needs to be from something like the corn Granny Murray and Auntie Phyllis grow, not from some of that big fancy stuff that everyone else likes to raise. Anyways, the corn has to be barely ripe, not full yet. You gotta get the corn off the cob, dry the cob good, and then holler it out like this." For the purpose of demonstration, Dakota broke out her pocket knife and started removing the pithy inside portion of the half cob.
"Papaw told Emery that all the soft stuff had to come out. Course, you can't get all the soft stuff out; that's why someone's gonna hafta smoke each pipe a couple of times to burn it out."
Kloee felt herself turn green. She and Cherie had tried a cigarette and both had become violently sick, possibly because the cigarette was yellow with age and had come from an old pack one of the other girls had found; but whatever the cause, her experience had convinced her that smoking wasn't cool.
"I can do that," Freddie volunteered.
Trust Freddie Bates to do something gross, Kloee thought. Of course, Freddie was almost sixteen and no one was going give him any crap about smoking.
Dakota held up a piece of wire and a thin branch from an elderberry bush. "This is the part that's tricky. You have to get the wire really hot and push it into the stem. The branch has to be the right size with enough of a soft inside for the wire to burn out.
"You can burn yourself real good if you pick up the hot wire. Emery sure did when he made his own pipe. Just wait 'til Papaw or Mama Melodie catch him with it."
Kloee didn't think that would take long for Emery to get caught.
"… the stem down so it fits tight in the hole in the cob," Dakota was saying. "Papaw says you don't want smoke leakin' 'cause the pipe won't draw right if the stem don't fit tight."
The meeting's discipline broke down again when everyone pushed forward to see the finished pipe Dakota had put together earlier. Maybe her sister wasn't so dumb after all, thought Kloee. Dakota had put the presentation together as neatly as a science demonstration at school.
As much Kloee hated to say it, Dakota might have something with her pipe. It sure wouldn't cost anything to make and there were six of them to do the work in their free time. The only problem was how to sell them.
The answer kept coming back to Frau Meyers; and Freddie was right, Frau Meyers wasn't a good person to get involved with. Maybe she could get Helene away from her job and boyfriend long enough to talk to her grandmother and fix it so Frau Meyers didn't mess them up.
"We have to get the cobs pretty quick," Dakota said. "If we wait much longer, the corn will be too ripe and the cobs won't be any good.
"
Acquiring the corn would be another job for her, Kloee realized. They would have to have Granny Murray's or Auntie Phyllis' permission to harvest some of the corn early. She would have to negotiate some sort of work trade with them. After all, the corn not only fed everyone, it was also one of their major cash crops. She was the only one who would be able to work this out. Maybe she could catch Helene Monday after school. She could talk to Granny Murray today. Tomorrow wouldn't be a good time. After church, Granny Murray would be all religious and set in her ways worse than normal, making her down on anything dealing with tobacco.
The discussion went on for another hour before Granny Murray called them in to lunch. They wouldn't see each other tomorrow. Everyone would be at their churches.
Kloee helped Granny Murray wash the dishes from lunch. The other members of the infant Murray-Bates Pipe Company, except for Freddie, had taken off to play "What Time Is It, Mr. Fox." Freddie had taken off to help Uncle JJ work on his water wheel. One of these days, the thing would work the way he wanted it to. He had another car generator he wanted to hook to it. The old one had burned out for some reason.
"Grandma Murray, can I ask a big favor of you?" Kloee began.
Doreen Murray smiled. "So that's why you volunteered to help me clean up after your sister and friends."
Kloee wanted to protest her innocence but knew better than to fib to Granny Murray. Granny had no tolerance for fibbing. "Grandma Murray, we want to make money besides our chore money and we have a way. We need help from you and Auntie Phyllis, though. We want to make corncob pipes and need permission to harvest some of your corn."
Kloee braced herself for Granny's tirade about the evils of tobacco and the hell fire and damnation that accompanied its use. That lecture rated right next to drinking moonshine and listening to non-religious music.
Kloee wasn't disappointed. Granny Murray filled her ears with how those who smoked and chewed were accepting the Devil's temptation, and that led to worse things. Things a girl her age shouldn't be exposed to.
After twenty minutes of Kloee pledging not to ever do any of the things she was condemning, Granny Murray agreed to allow them to harvest a little of the corn early. But they were not to use the pipes themselves. Well, Freddie Bates could; but only because he was a godless heathen like his Papa JJ. It was bad enough they were helping sinners go to hell and burn in eternal fire, but they didn't need to accept temptation.
Granny Murray smiled. "Make sure you have someone sell plenty of pipes to them godless heathen that hang around the bars and taverns in Grantville," she said. "They can't get no worse. They're already on the road to ruin. Don't none of you go around them places though."
Granny Murray was on a roll again and Kloee braced herself once more. She was relieved to finally dry the last dish and head for home.
Monday Afternoon
Kloee shifted the backpack to make it more comfortable. She was trying to work up the courage to enter the exchange. She peeked through the large window of the building and saw Helene putting out the lamp on her desk. It looked like she was getting ready to leave for the day, so Kloee waited by the door for her oldest cousin to exit the building.
"Howdy, Helene," Kloee said as her unofficial cousin stepped through the door.
Helene looked surprised. "Good evening, Kloee. "
"Can I ask you for something, Cousin?" Kloee asked sweetly, ignoring the airs Helene was putting on.
Helene seemed to think for a minute as she stood in the doorway of the Exchange. "Depends on what it is. I have to meet Anton at Cora's for dinner, then I have to get home before my grandmother starts asking questions."
"I can walk along with you," Kloee volunteered. "We can talk on the way to the restaurant."
Helene looked at her in irritation. "I have a date with Anton, and I would appreciate some privacy. It's hard enough getting any time with him without my grandmother getting wind of it."
"No, no. I don't mean I'll go into Cora's with you," Kloee responded rapidly. "I just need you to talk to your grandma for me. I need to get her help with something."
"Well, explain it to me, but be quick. Anton is waiting by now," Helene snapped.
Kloee bit her tongue and explained about the her small group of friends going into the corncob pipe business.
By the time they arrived at Cora's, Helene had volunteered, for a cut, to help them set everything up. There was no need for bringing her grandmother into it.
Kloee agreed wholeheartedly. Frau Meyers hadn't been anyone's real favorite; but having Helene take over the business and sales part of their little endeavor relieved a large burden from Kloee's shoulders. Kloee hurried on down the street. She had to get home and take care of the chickens. It was her turn and Mama Melodie didn't like it when chores didn't get done.
Saturday
Kloee turned the meeting of the newly formed Murray-Bates Company over to Helene. She threw side glances at Anton, who had come out with Helene-not to get involved in the meeting, but to just spend a little time with her
"First thing you need to do is get your product into a limited production," Helene told the group. "Just enough for a few trial sales pitches. I can arrange for Anton to try to sell a few pipes as soon as you have them made." Helene smiled at Anton. He beamed back at her. "If the trial pipes sell well, we will go into production of enough to make a real profit."
Kloee watched Helene watch the kids for their reaction.
Freddie was the first to say anything. "We ain't startin' no big ol' business, Helene. No way. We just want to earn some money the Hun ain't goin' to put into the bank for our futures."
Dakota and Sybie loudly seconded Freddie's statement. They just wanted a little money, not a full-time job making pipes, or any of the hassle that went with it.
The arguing started and Kloee sat and listened. Freddie, Sybie, and Dakota took one side; and WB, Franz and Helene took the other. She wasn't even getting involved in this one. Both sides made some excellent points. Before she made her final decision, Kloee would have to do some hard thinking about everything she had heard.
By the end of the first meeting of the Murray-Bates Pipe Company, it had been decided to see if the pipes sold. After the trial sale, they would decide what to do next. Only WB, Franz, and Helene thought they were going to do more than make a few pipes, sell them, and be able to buy the little extras they wanted.
No one wanted Helene to go crazy like Frau Meyers and turn their little idea into another one of her big enterprises.
Kloee watched while everyone went their own way. Things didn't look as good as they had last Saturday when Dakota had described making corncob pipes. She was getting a bad feeling about this.
Late August, 1635
Kloee looked over the dried cobs that were cut in half and ready to be cleaned of their pithy centers. Papaw Murray had made them tools for the job from pieces of old hacksaw blades from which he had removed the teeth and sharpened to an edge on one side. The handles were made of leather wraps around the upper end of the tool.
The elderberry branches they would use for the pipe stems had been trimmed and hollowed with a hot wire. Four pipes were assembled and ready to go. Helene was supposed to stop by with Anton to take them out.
Helene and Anton entered the little workshop Granny Murray had allowed them to build in her barn. "Are the first pipes ready to take?" Helene asked.
"They sure are," Kloee chuckled. "They were even pre-smoked to burn out the residual pith in each pipe bowl and stem."
Freddie Bates had turned positively green from the first bowl of tobacco he'd smoked through a pipe. She hadn't thought he would ever quit gagging and coughing.
Now, he seemed to have no problem smoking the two bowls of tobacco required to pre-season each pipe. Of course, he had made off with pipe number five, claiming it was his for all the hard work he did getting the pipes ready for sale.
So far, they had invested money out of their pockets for the tobacco to season the pipes with and hadn't earned one miserable dollar. Now, the four pipes they had ready to sell were going for what Helene called advertising start-up expenses.
At this rate, they were not only not going to earn enough for her to buy a couple of new dresses and those shoes that were being sold at the Kurger Emporium, but she would be lucky to have enough chore money left to buy a glass of iced tea at the City Hall Coffee Shop.
Anton Droesseler set down the Barney lunchbox Helene had given him. A couple of up-timers had called it "the purple puke" when they had seen the pink plastic box and the faded picture and writing on it. It was lunch time and he was in the smoking area.
He opened the box and took out a smoked sausage and the thermos of beer. The lunch box was distinctive. But the small thermos bottle was still good and no one else had a lunchbox like his. For now, no one-except for Freddie-had a pipe like his, either.
He prized the ugly lunchbox, not because it was American pre-Ring of Fire, but because Helene had given it to him.
When his fellow workers finished up their lunches and broke out clay pipes Anton took his new corncob pipe from the lunch box.
An up-timer had come out to have a smoke. Few of the up-timers smoked; it had something to do with an up-timer belief that smoking was bad for you. Anton packed his pipe carefully and lit one of the Red-Devil phosphorus sticks and held the flame over his pipe. He drew in a drag and felt the rich smoke from the tobacco fill his mouth. He rolled the smoke around and let it out.
The next drag was cooler and the flavor very satisfying. He inhaled only a small amount and felt the mild euphoria.
The up-timer came over. "Where you get the pipe?"
"Some of my fiancees family are making them," Anton said. He smiled as he exhaled smoke and took another pull on the stem. The pipe was burning smoothly; he had used it twice last night and once this morning to make sure he could use it without messing up. After all, it wasn't his clay pipe, it was one of Helene's families creations.
The man looked longingly at the pipe Anton was smoking, then at the fragile clay pipe that had gone out in his hand. "They wouldn't have a few to sell would they?"
Anton opened his lunchbox and brought out one of the samples. "Here. Have one of the spares my fiancee gave me." He passed the pipe to the man.
"Thanks," the worker said gratefully. Anton struck up another Red-Devil and relit his pipe.
Some of his co-workers now watched as the up-timer dug the tobacco from his clay pipe, put it away, then packed the bowl of the corncob.
His friend, Ernst, moved to the bench across from Anton. The two had started their apprenticeships at the same time. "How is that pipe? Is it American?"
Anton pulled out another sample pipe and gave it to Ernst.
Ernst receiving a corncob pipe started a rush on him, more out of curiosity than anything else. After he passed out the last two pipes, he explained they had come from Fraulein Helene Meyers-Bates and she was the one who knew were to get them.
By the end of the day, he heard some of the smokers talking about the new style of pipe. He even heard Ernst say how much more durable it was and how he wasn't going to use a clay pipe anymore.
Anton smiled. He would let Helene know her idea was working. She would be such a good wife and bring much to a marriage with her business skills; and he would soon be a journeyman, if he kept learning about steam engines.
Saturday Meeting of the Murray Bates Pipe Company
"I have orders," Helene crowed. "I need twenty-seven pipes. Half of those are going to the Tobacco Shop on consignment. The rest are sold for fifteen dollars each. Don't expect to keep getting that price, though. I used the old supply and demand rule they teach you in school. Charge what the market will bear. "
Kloee noticed that while Helene spoke she reminded her of Frau Meyers. Had Helene changed and become a money-grubbing capitalist like Frau Meyers?
Money-grubbing capitalist is what Uncle JJ called Frau Meyers, along with the Hag, the Old Witch, and Scum Sucker. However, if Frau Meyers caught a cold, Uncle JJ was the first one to panic. For all his show of dislike for the old woman, he really cared for her deeply.
A whoop rose from the other members of the Murray Bates Pipe Company.
"Where's our money?" became the main question.
"There is no money yet," Helene explained. "First, you have to deliver the pipes to me. I will deliver them to the customers and bring you your money next Saturday. Now, everyone get to work."
With grumbles and moans Freddie, Dakota, Sybie, and Kloee trudged toward their part of the pipe assembly line.
WB and Franz moved right to their jobs. The two boys didn't see anything wrong with turning out pipes in bulk. They actually thought all the work Helene was making for them was good.
Kloee lit the small charcoal stove and set up her burning wires. She started removing the bark from the dry elderberry branches, the first step in her work.
Beside her, Sybie drilled holes in pipe bowls, matching them to stems that had already been hollowed out.
Dakota was farther down the line, next to Freddie, using a piece of the down-timer made sandpaper to put a finish on the bowls and a piece of deer horn to polish the outside of the bowls.
Freddie hollowed corncobs and scraped out most of the pithy insides.
WB and Franz had already gone out to where the stripped corncobs were drying to select the best of the cured cobs. After they had selected the best cobs, they would go to one of the elderberry trees to gather suitable branches for stems. They had to be careful with the trees, though. If they damaged Granny Murray's elderberry trees, there would be the dickens to pay.
It looked like things were going to start paying for themselves; but it was going to be a lot of work, and their Saturdays would be gone-spent making pipes.
Kloee heard Dakota and Freddie grumbling about child labor and slave driver Helene. Well, they had agreed to start this up; now, they were going to have to find away to live with it.
Helene might be able to sell the pipes, but they had to make them. None of them had planned to make the Murray-Bates Pipe Company their life's goal.
What good was money if you had no time between school, chores, church, and making pipes to enjoy it?
Kloee decided she would talk to Papa Donnie about it. He would know how to remedy the situation. Helene would just insist they spend more time making pipes to make money. That wasn't going to work. She wasn't happy and she knew Freddie and Dakota would talk Sybie into walking out.
Saturday dinner was at an end. It was Dakota and Zackie's turn to do dishes and Emery was off with Papaw Murray.
Mama Melodie was taking DeePee over to Granny Murray's house, which gave her a chance to speak to Papa Donnie without Mama Melodie getting involved. Besides, Papa was much freer with what he said when Mama Melodie wasn't around.
Kloee found Papa Donnie out in his combination workshop/office in the barn. She also caught him pouring himself a plastic tumbler of 'shine.
Papa Donnie looked over at her as she entered his private space. "Well, Kloee, you ain't telling Melodie about this, are you?" he asked nonchalantly.
"No, Papa Donnie."
"What can I do you for, Sweetie?"
"Papa Donnie, I have a problem and I need your advice."
"What's the problem?" Donnie put the bottle behind the old lawnmower engine on the shelf to conceal it.
Kloee explained the deal they had with Granny Murray, Auntie Phyllis, and the Knapps. She told him about the kids just wanting to make a little pocket money and all the rest of it.
Donnie listened while he sipped from the tumbler. "Well, let me tell you a little story, Sweetie. Now this is not to get around or I will warm the seat of your pants, and don't ever think you're too old for that."
Kloee nodded and listened.
"Used to be I followed everything your Uncle Ronnie wanted me to do," Donnie said with sadness in his voice. "I quit doing that, but I made the mistake of thinking I didn't need any help planning things-that I could run the show on my own."
Donnie drained the tumbler and set it aside. "Well, I came up with this wiz bang plan to get rich. Everything just kinda fell apart. After that, I made sure to have people go out and look around real good before we did anything, I learned to listen to them, too; and if I didn't like what I heard, I changed my plans.
"Another thing I learned was just a few folk weren't enough to do the job. I had to recruit a whole bunch of folk to get what I wanted done or we would have been in deep kim chee.
"Well, the thing is, Sweetie. " Donnie smiled. "Don't try to do everything yourself. Get more help. Hell, girl, hire some people and train them if you have to.
"Use the ones that want to work themselves to death-like Helene, WB, and Franz-to run things. You and the rest just kind of keep an eye on the workaholics and make sure they don't get too carried away. If you let them run wild, they could cause more trouble than they fix."
Kloee nodded as she sorted out in her mind what Papa Donnie had told her.
"Look, if you don't want to be all burned out, let others do the hard work. You just kind of get together with the ones that think like you and don't let Helene take over the show and order you around. You asked her to help, not take over. Make sure that you all get together and let her know who is boss." Donnie's smile was like a cat about to eat the canary. "Remember you are my daughter and I don't want you being a door mat for no one, Sweetie."
Kloee had a bunch of questions to ask yet. She needed clarification on some of the things her father had said. By the end of the day, she saw what had to be done. Murray Bates Pipe Company would expand, but it was going to hire some people to do the work.
Helene Meyers Bates was going to get one-seventh interest in the company with no voting rights or they would find someone else to do her job.
Papa Donnie had said "use her ambition against her. Build up the possibilities. From what you've told me, Helene already sees big possibilities in the company. Threaten to exclude her and she'll settle for less. If that don't work, find someone to replace her."
Papa Donnie had some pretty good ideas. She wondered where he had gone to school to learn how to control people like he'd been outlining for her. She knew teachers that couldn't control a class very well; and here was Papa Donnie, telling her how to make other people do all the work and like it.
"A few deserved compliments and rewards go a long way," explained Papa, "in keeping people happy and keeping them carrying most of the load, if you do it right. Delegate the responsibilities, but do it in such a way as to not lose control."
The way Papa put it sounded pretty simple. But he also said, "Never think things are as simple as they seem. They ain't. It will blow up in your face like a firecracker with a short fuse if you aren't prepared for something to go wrong. So you need to have backup plans. Just in case everything starts to fall apart."
She could do that. Freddie could be rather sneaky when he wanted, Dakota had smarts, and Sybie knew WB and Franz better than anyone; so between the four of them, they could have a main plan and then look at all the things that could go wrong and plan for them.
It was too bad Papa Donnie was going away tomorrow. She sure would like to be able to ask his opinion about what they came up with.
Kloee, Freddie, Dakota, and Sybie met at Marcantonio's Pizza. Kloee had told the other three to meet her after school to discuss important business. Now was the time to get things started-before the Saturday meeting of the Murray Bates Pipe Company when everything was taken over by Helene again.
They had scraped enough money together to buy a small pizza to split and a glass of juice apiece.
"Well," Freddie said-with tomato paste and cheese leaking around the corners of his mouth-"why did you want us here today?"
Kloee was prepared, had been preparing since last night. With a dazzling smile she started her speech. "We started our pipe making business just to get a little more spending money than we have been getting…"
A sour look gathered on Sybie's face.
Freddie shrugged. "Tell me something new."
Kloee backpedaled in her head. No one had interrupted her while she had been practicing. She improvised for a moment. "Well, that's what we were going to do, originally." Then she hurried back to her prepared speech.
"No one intended to do a lot of work and get caught up in it like we have been. Everything was supposed to be simple. Make a few pipes, collect some money, split it and everyone would be happy."
Kloee watched her companions give her unpleasant looks, as if she was some sort of simpleton telling them things they already knew. She hurried on. "Well, Helene has made the Murray Bates Pipe Company into a job that is eating up our free time and we have to put a stop to it."
"By Gnu and Yater," Freddie swore, causing Kloee to cringe. "I'm ready to quit the whole thing." Mama Melodie and Granny Murray both said Freddie's idea of a curse was sacrilegious. Kloee wasn't sure what they meant.
She listened as agreement came from Sybie and Dakota. Now was the time to reveal the plan she had worked out from Papa Donnie's advice.
"There is a way we can take back our company and not have to work ourselves to death in the process," Kloee began with a sincere smile. She had practiced the look half the night in her mirror. She was going to make sure her speech was perfect. "Do you want to hear my idea?"
"What the heck, let it fly," Freddie said.
"First, we need a written agreement that says six of us started up the business," Kloee said. "That means we need to get WB and Franz to sign it. But we don't want Helene to know anything 'til Saturday."
Freddie gave his best impression of his adopted father when Uncle JJ was pissed. "They'll do it and not say anything. Besides, Helene comes home late from meeting with Anton and thinks her story about working late is fooling everyone. So then what?"
Kloee continued, "I'll get Uncle Slater to get the paper drawn up tomorrow then. He knows a shyster or two."
"A what?" Sybie and Freddie both chimed.
Dakota laughed. "A shyster-what Papaw Murray calls lawyers."
Freddie grinned. He'd have to look it up in the dictionary, but shyster didn't sound too nice. Maybe he would add it to his vocabulary.
"Oh," Sybie responded.
Kloee cringed inside. "Uncle Slater can get a lawyer to draw up a legal paper for us. Here are copies of what I think it should say." Kloee grinned conspiratorially at her companions and gave each of them a handwritten copy of her statement. She had spent all of her eighth-grade study hall period working on the start of a contract for forming the Murray Bates Pipe Company.
Kloee noticed that Freddie did read the proposal himself but he waited for Sybie to go over the thing, "Well, Sybie, is it okay?"
Sybie smiled. "It looks good, Freddie. But I don't know all that much about things like this. It says we will all own stock and we will vote on the management of the company. It looks okay to me, but I don't want to waste time managing the company. There are better things to do."
"Well, I don't want all my time tied up, either," Freddie growled.
Before Dakota could voice her opinion, Kloee took over again. She was beginning to see what Papa Donnie had been talking about. Maybe she could get things done the way he said. It was starting to all come together. "All this voting and control of the company has to do is place Helene in a position where she can't take over but can still sell the pipes and make sure the money comes in. We'll be able to tell her what we want done, not her telling us what to do."
Before anyone could interrupt, Kloee put on the "I know what I am saying" face she'd practiced. "See? As a board of stockholders, the four of us could outvote anything WB and Franz might want if we stick together. And we can give Helene stock to keep her helping us, just not voting stock; so even if WB and Franz sided with her, we could still outvote them."
"But we would still have all that work," Freddie interrupted.
Kloee was ready for that. "Well, we hire people to make the pipes. They do all the work and we just sit back and get our money. It's even better than what we intended to do." Kloee flashed her best smile and continued. "On top of that, we elect one of us as boss. They have to watch things, so the rest can just kick back and enjoy their money."
"I won't do it," Freddie grumbled. He was echoed by both Dakota and Sybie who could also see it as a much bigger job than any of them wanted.
"Well, I guess I could do it." Kloee looked at her companions, her eyes filled with disappointment. This may not have been what Papa Donnie had meant for her to do, but she had watched Mama Melodie and Mama Marlene get things their way in the past and had incorporated it in her spiel. Let them think they were forcing the job on her.
A few minutes of token arguing on the part of the others put the job on her shoulders.
"Well, if we're going to do this, I'll see Uncle Slater on the way home," Kloee said. "Are we going to try this?"
She smiled when the other three agreed.
Saturday Meeting of the Murray Bates Pipe Company
Freddie pushed Helene aside. He informed her she would have to wait until after the first meeting of the Murray Bates stockholders' meeting to talk.
She glanced at WB and Franz, who looked miserably guilty to her.
Freddie opened the meeting. "Fellow stockholders and employees of the Murray Bates Pipe Company, we are here today to elect our company boss. She will make all the decisions for the company with a majority of stockholders' approval."
Helene started to smile until Freddie said, "I nominate Kloee Baxter-Bates-Murray as boss for the Murray Bates Pipe Company."
Sybie and Dakota jumped up and seconded the nomination.
Helene realized something was terribly wrong. Franz and WB just sat there looking lost and didn't even recommend her. She should be running things. After all, she was the one who was studying business. She should be CEO. They didn't even have the name right. Where had this sudden change come from anyway?
As the question entered her mind, she noticed Kloee's triumphant smile. The heart shaped face and red hair reminded her of Frau Smith. Helene felt as if a younger version of the hard-driving woman she worked for was looking at her with the same smug and self-assured air.
"I nominate myself!" Helene yelled out.
Freddie smiled at her. "No can do, Helene." He laughed. "You ain't a stockholder. You're just an employee right now."
Helene felt as if she had been set up by everyone. Even Franz hadn't given her an inkling as to what was happening. She sat and listened as Kloee was voted head of the fledgling company by a four to zero vote with two abstentions. At least WB and Franz hadn't voted for Kloee. But it looked like Kloee had Freddie, Sybie, and Dakota firmly behind her.
No work would get done today because by laws and company charters had to be agreed upon. When the meeting got around to her position in the company, Helene was forced to accept the offer Kloee made her. It had already been decided to hire workers and train them, starting this week.
WB and Franz were made supervisors, in charge of training and operations. They seemed happy about their new positions, though how they would keep up with the demands of a fledgling company and still attend school she wasn't sure. But they both had drive and ambition-something Kloee apparently had, too, but hadn't demonstrated before.
When Kloee had presented the proposal for her future employment with the Murray Bates Pipe Company, she had almost walked out. But the future monetary gain from the infant company was too tempting. And while she would receive stock from the company that equaled a seventh of its value, it would be non-voting stock. Where the fourteen-year-old Kloee had picked up so much business information, she didn't know; but Kloee had rigged it so she couldn't gain control of the company.
It wasn't all bad. The responsibilities she had to the Murray Bates Pipe Company would increase. But with the increased work force, more pipes would be produced and sold. Already, they had sixty new orders and the Tobacco Shop was wanting another fifteen. The kids would never be able to keep up with demand. They needed to expand and start up a larger factory and hire more employees. Which, now that she thought about it, was exactly what they were doing.
She was given a copy of the Company charter with all six signatures of the founders: Freddie Bates, Sybella Doebling-Bates, Wilhelm Engling-Bates, Dakota Ockfen-Bates-Murray, and Kloee Baxter-Bates-Murray.
Everything looked legal and binding and was cosigned by a parent or legal guardian. She even recognized the witnesses names.
Helene agreed to continue working for the company. If things went like she thought they would, she would earn more than she ever could working for the Exchange, though she wouldn't be quitting anytime soon. Murray and Bates would be a part-time job when she was not in school or working at her desk for the Exchange records department.
Helene looked at Kloee and saw the girl returning her gaze. She had been outmaneuvered by a girl nearly five years younger and who had never before shown any ambition. She felt respect and dislike for Kloee at the same time. She had been wrong about her. Kloee was not silly and superficial; she had proven she could be someone who warranted watching, not just what the young up-time men called a babe. She also had brains, something she hadn't displayed a lot of before, as far as Helene knew.
Helene sat at the table in the Gardens with Anton. "So I got made a non-voting share holder." She shook her head. "I still don't know how that little witch did it. But it was staged. Kloee had them all lined up ahead of time. Even WB and Franz were bought off with the fancy titles she gave them."
"Did you take it?" Anton asked.
Helene nodded and gave a half shrug. "I'm still in on the ground floor of company with big potential."
Three weeks later
Mid-September, 1635
Kloee walked through Granny Murray's barn. The company was now paying rent for the old space they had used plus additional rent for the rest of the barn. Much of her adopted grandparents junk had been moved to Uncle Slater's barn or her own for storage. The whole barn was now being used as a factory for making corncob pipes. It sounded like a big expansion and, in some ways, it was. But it wouldn't last. She had let things get out of hand.
The two old milking stalls were gone and the floor had been planked over. Ten men and women were busy in the four parts of the barn that were the work areas for different stages of pipe making.
The first section was used to sort, cut, and hollow out the corncobs for the pipe bowls.
The second section was for sorting, cutting and hollowing out the stems. They were experimenting with different types of branches to make the stems from because Granny Murray claimed they were destroying her elderberry trees. She made elderberry wine, which she used as a tonic for colds and flu. So far, they weren't having any problems, but Franz was arranging for the materials to make stems.
The third section was the assembly area where the stems and bowls were fitted. There were three people working in each of the first three areas.
The forth and last area was the packing and shipping area. Right now they only had one employee working there.
Everything was running smoothly now, although the factory had gotten off to a rough start because one snag after another had cropped up. The company was, as Helene put it, a marginal success.
Today was her turn to walk through the infant pipe factory. She, Franz, and WB took turns spending time after school seeing how things were running. The older men and women working for them seemed to accept the fact that they were working for children. Besides that, Philip Dirst, the foreman, kept everything operating; so she and the others just made a show of doing a daily tour. The workers seemed happier and operations went more smoothly because they didn't have any of the owners around except for an hour or so every day.
The employees were working on a pay system Helene had devised-a small weekly wage with a commission for each pipe they produced. It was something she had learned in her business classes and actually had a fancy name: Gant, or something like that.
Granny Murray and Auntie Phyllis would sell them more of their corn crop this year for pipe bowls. Even Uncle JJ had volunteered to let them have part of his corn crop over Frau Meyers objections. Freddie had talked Uncle JJ into letting them have part of his harvest this year. What she couldn't figure out was how Uncle JJ got Auntie Margaretha to agree with him. She usually sided with old Frau Meyers.
Mama Melodie had volunteered to let them plant some areas farther back in the hollow come next spring. So next year, they would have a good crop to harvest which would ensure they had enough corncobs to operate year around.
They would run out of useable corncobs before the end of winter this year. It was too late in the season to plant another crop. But who would have thought the pipes would be so popular? No one had thought they would be sturdier and hold up better than the clay pipes.
If the corn was fully ripe, the cob wasn't as good and Helene insisted they should sell only quality products. Kloee agreed with her. Like Papa Donnie had told her, "Listen to good advice and always seek it out. You can't know everything and you can use what others tell you if it's good advice without letting them run the show."
Kloee smiled. She was still learning. She had learned a lot from running the Murray Bates Pipe Company. For one, the company wasn't going to make it this year. The company would fold up from lack of materials-namely, a sufficient supply of corncobs. It was a success in that the pipes sold well and there was a growing demand. But they had only planned far enough ahead to get pocket money. The money was being realized-more than realized. They had pocket money and then some, but they had not planned for growth or expansion. Everything had happened haphazardly with little real planning. She thought they had planned well, but it hadn't turned out that way.
In the spring, a new company would be born: Cousins' Genuine Corncob Pipes. A new company charter would be set into motion; and as much as Kloee disliked the idea, Helene would be a voting stockholder in the company. Helene was already arranging for temporary work for their current employees and setting up a share purchasing program for employees of the new company when it came into being. Selling shares to the employees was what Helene called an employee incentive plan. She said they had to have trained employees or lose valuable time and assets retraining. The best way to keep good employees was to keep them happy, and owning part of their workplace helped keep them happy.
Kloee frowned and had to admit she had outsmarted herself by cutting Helene out of the management. Over the last three weeks, she realized how much she had taken on herself. She liked the feel of power, but it was too much for her to handle. Things had definitely not worked out as she had envisioned.
She had picked the wrong allies in Freddie and Dakota. Neither of them had been any help past getting her into the position of control. Manipulating people wasn't all that great if they turned out to be of little or no help. She had learned from that. It was part of planning for everything that could go wrong. Papaw called it Murphy's Law.
The new company would have a different set of voting stockholders next year. Freddie, Dakota, and Sybie would not be part of the company. They weren't interested and weren't willing to do the work.
The rest of them had to put up seed money, and not for the corn seed. That was being donated by Granny Murray and Auntie Phyllis this time. The Knapps were planting extra corn next year just for supplying corncobs and some money as part of the start up capital for the new company. They would be voting stockholders also. She, Helene, WB, and Franz were setting aside most of their profits from the Murray Bates Pipe Company for startup and initial operating funds. Even Uncle Slater was going to invest money for shares in the new company.
Kloee knew she wasn't going to be the boss next time, but she didn't care. It was a lot more work and headache than she had originally thought. Besides, she had to admit she wasn't a very good boss.
She wasn't sure who she would vote for at the first meeting of the stockholder's convention for the new Cousins' Genuine Corncob Pipes, but she was sure it wouldn't be for herself. She would probably vote for Helene, now that they were starting to understand each other better.
Kloee finished walking through the barn and stopped to talk to each of the employees.
"Good work."
"Going to sell real good."
"Good job."
Say something nice when everything is going okay. Don't be pushy. You get more effort with a couple of nice words than by being pushy. Besides, if anything went wrong, Helene could take care of it. The employees listened to her better, she was older and got more respect.
It was time to head home. Philip would ensure everything was finished properly.
She had earned her pocket money. She had learned more about business than she thought she'd ever want to know and now knew it wasn't enough. She had also learned the hard way that getting what you want didn't always turn out to be a good thing.
Moonraker by Karen Bergstralh
The black hull towered above Monsieur De Roche. It was the pinnacle of his dreams and the final blow to his shipyard. Copper cladding gleamed in the late afternoon sun. The loans to buy that alone would sink him. The ship hung above his head, supported for a quarter of its length on the slip. The rest of the great ship completely bridged the estuary stream and the ship's stern was firmly stuck in the muddy bank opposite. The Moonraker's stern actually touched the rival ship that was being built on the other bank.
None of the many ships Monsieur De Roche had built nor any that his father and grandfather had built had ever been so large. It had not occurred to him or to any of his shipwrights that the Moonraker was too long to launch.
"A beautiful and deceitful woman you truly are," he whispered to the great ship.
"Monsieur?"
De Roche turned and found Henri, his chief shipwright, at his side.
"How badly is she damaged?"
Henri scratched his beard and smiled. "Dry, the bilge is dry. Not a single leak." The man beamed with pride. "Even where she struck the Giantess there is little damage. A matter of a splintered rail."
"The rudder? What of it?"
"In place and still sound. I could not see all of it, of course. Once we get her free of the mud and up on the slipway again…"
"Yes, and then what do we do? She'll still be too long to launch."
"I've been thinking, Monsieur. Once we have her back we can turn her sideways. It won't be quick, but we can do it. There are pictures in your book of ships being launched sideways."
"Do you think it can be done?"
"Yes, Monsieur. It can be done. Monsieur Leblanc will have to do the same with the Giantess. His people are distracted, so I paced her off. She's twenty feet longer than our Moonraker. If they try to launch her straight back, her stern windows will end up in your office. Her proportions are wrong, too. He's tried to make her too much like a galleon. Moonraker will dance through the waves while the Giantess waddles."
"If we can get our ship out of the mud and launched."
"Charles and Louis have finished rigging the block and tackle. We've four teams of horses and one of oxen here and another three are coming. " Henri gestured across the stream. "Monsieur LeBlanc's crew has made good progress digging the mud away from her rudder and keel. High tide is in an hour, we'll be ready."
"How long to turn her and re-launch her?"
"Two weeks. The minor repairs can be done while we turn her. I'll start some of the finishers aboard, too. She'll be ready to sail no more than a week later than you promised. Then the world will see. Ah, Monsieur, she'll be the fastest sailing ship the world has seen. Three months to China. Imagine. Only three months!"
"A week. I can hold off her owners for a week. It will ruin me financially, but I can do it."
"No, Monsieur, it will not ruin you." Henri was long used to Monsieur De Roche's complaints of financial ruin. He grinned. "I do not think that Monsieur Leblanc's customers are happy with Giantess. While I was over in his yard two of his investors asked when you would be able to build another like Moonraker. I told them we could start as soon as she's afloat."
Monsieur De Roche looked across at his rival's shipyard with narrowed eyes. "We can start as soon the contract is signed. Perhaps I might make a small profit after all. Say enough to buy additional yard space?"
The two men laughed.
The Minstrel Boy by John Zeek
Saturday morning, February 1634
"Well, that's that." Bill Frank lowered the hood of the new rail engine. "Though I have no idea how we're going to deliver it."
Hagen Filss, who had been handing him tools, responded, "Maybe when Sergeant Hatfield and Private Schultz get back they will know, Herr Frank."
Warrant Officer Frank looked over at the young soldier. "Hagen, first off you should remember that Mister Hatfield is no longer a sergeant, but a warrant officer. And second, there's nothing that says he's going to stop here in Grantville. He might go straight to Wismar to join the rest of the company." Then, seeing the lost look in Hagen's eyes, he added, "I know, son. You think you can talk him and Corporal Rau into taking you with them. Face it, Hagen. You're only seventeen years old. This war is going to last a while, so there's no sense in you rushing into it. You should have let the major send you to school."
"Herr Frank." Hagen drew himself to his full height. "I can read and write. I speak two languages and I know my numbers. What more does a soldier need to know? And I am a soldier."
Bill realized Hagen was trying to convince himself as much as anyone else. It was hard to be the only regular from the train crew to be left behind. Hagen might be seventeen, but he was smaller than the average rail trooper. To top it off, Hagen had the type of face that was going to look boyish into his forties.
After studying Hagen for a while longer, Bill simply nodded his head. "Okay, Private Filss. As a soldier you should know enough to obey orders. And your orders were to work here at the company shop. Is that understood?"
"Ja, Herr Frank."
"Okay. I have a couple of errands for you to run. First I want you to run over to the communications office and have them send this message to the major."
"Ja, Herr Frank. Does that message contain my request to rejoin the train crew?"
Bill suppressed a sigh. "Yes, Private Filss, it includes your transfer request, but the main purpose is to tell her that this engine is ready to go. Second, I want you to go out to Henry Johnson's place and check with Dora Schultz about the coveralls."
"Is there anything else, Herr Frank?"
"Not today. When you finish with those errands you can have the rest of the day off. Relax, take a walk, talk to a pretty girl, or better yet take a pretty girl for a walk. I don't want to see you until quitting time this evening or, better yet, tomorrow morning."
Bill watched Hagen walk to the rack next to the door of the shop, take down his pistol belt and buckle it around his waist. He shook his head. It had taken a direct order to make Hagen hang his pistol on the rack when he was working in the shop. The boy still wore the circle of red cloth on his left sleeve that was the mark of the train crew and not the green square that the shop crew had decided on. Damn, Bill thought, it's going to break that boy's heart if he doesn't find a way to get back on a train crew.
Hagen followed the original test track from the engine shop on his way to the communications office. It was here that he had first seen a TacRail train. It was just the engine and one flat car, but he had stood and stared, amazed that it was moving without horses pulling it. His first friend, Jim Cooper, had explained it to him. Jim, who hadn't cared that Hagen was short and scrawny and too young. The first person to treat him as an equal, Jim had even convinced Sergeant Hatfield to allow him to enlist.
Thinking about Jim made him think about the other men of the crew. Sergeant Hatfield who had taught him how to shoot and Corporal Toeffel who had sold him his first pistol; Private Schultz, who had trained him to be a brakeman. He missed them, even Corporal Rau, who had always teased him about his age, calling him " Der Bub, " but had also showed him how to use a dagger in a fight and how to walk quietly.
Now they were all gone. Gone to war, even Anton Busch, who was the closest to Hagen's age. No one had even thought of leaving Anton or Jim behind. But Corporal Toeffel had ordered Hagen to stay and help in the engine shop. It wasn't fair. He was as good a rail trooper as the rest. Sergeant Hatfield had to take him.
With a jerk, Hagen realized he been so lost in thought that he had almost passed the building he needed and had to back track half a block to the front entrance.
Katharina Stuetzing was seated at the desk, acting as a receptionist. For some reason Hagen remembered Herr Frank's last comment about taking a pretty girl for a walk. Katharina definitely was a pretty girl, but just looking at her made Hagen blush and stammer. Besides, he still had the second errand to run.
"G-g-good morning Private Stuetzing. I have a message from Herr Frank at the engine shop. Can it go out in this morning's radio traffic?"
"Ja, Private Filss. Give it to me and I will see that it goes to the radio room." Katharina smiled. Her smile just made Hagen blush all the more. And what was worse he knew he was blushing.
"Danke. Uh-uh…"
"Was there something else, Hagen?"
Hagen was stunned. She knew his name. He hadn't thought she even knew he existed. "Uh, has there been any news about Sergeant Hatfield's party and when they will be returning from Suhl?"
Katharina leaned across the desk and lowered her voice. "One of the radio operators told me that a message came in from Lieutenant Ivarsson. He and Herr Hatfield left Suhl two days ago. Where they are going and if they are coming here, she didn't know. I asked. I knew you wanted to know. After all, you've asked every day for the past week."
"Danke, Private Stuetzing."
"Hagen, you can call me Katharina."
Hearing her tell him to use her first name, made Hagen blush even harder. He was barely able to say "Danke, Katharina," before he turned and walked into the closed door, giving his nose a rather nasty bump.
"Are you all right?" Katharina started to get up from behind the desk.
"I am fine." Hagen finally found the door knob. "I have to run more errands for Herr Frank." Hagen blushed even harder when he heard her laughter through the closed office door. Why? I am a trained soldier. I am ready to face men in battle. Why do I blush and lose my wits when I talk to a girl? Hagen straightened his shoulders and stood erect. A soldier should always walk proud.
Walking to the tram stop he thought about the changes he had seen in the short time he had been in Grantville. Even the tramway was new. The city had taken over the right of way cleared by the rail company and replaced the light portable track with permanent track. Now horse-drawn and motorized tramcars provided transportation into town from the outlying areas. When the car stopped, he pointed to the train crew patch on his shoulder to indicate he was on military business and should be allowed to ride free.
The driver waved Hagen to a seat as the car started to move. Looking up Hagen could see the notice painted on the front of the car over the driver's head. "Tramcar #4, Built by the 141^ st Rail Company" below the neatly printed notice was piece of paper with the names of the crew who had built it. Hagen was proud to see his own name at the bottom of the list. This was one of the last tramcars the old crew had built before the orders came sending them to Magdeburg.
Just as the tram was leaving town, Hagen's attention was caught by a sign beside the tracks:
Elizabeth's Railway,
Built by the 141st Railway Company, NUS Army.
We Build Them Anywhere- Wir bauen sie uberall
The day they had put up that sign, General Jackson had just activated the company. The up-time sergeants, Hatfield, Plotz and Torbert, had insisted they needed to commemorate the occasion. First Sergeant Plotz had picked Hagen to break a bottle of beer on the tracks to mark the launching of the then new company. Hagen wanted to rejoin the company more than anything else in his life.
He was pulled out of his thoughts by the tram coming to a stop near the training camp for the Committee of Correspondece-raised regiment. The regiment was gone now, off to war along with the rail company, but apparently the camp was still being used. Hagen saw three people waiting for the tram. At first he thought they were soldiers, from their tie-dyed camouflage coats and rifles, but then he recognized Wendel and Gerd, Private Schultz's sons and their cousin, Susanna Eckhardt. All three were in the Junior ROTC.
"Allo Wendel, allo Gerd, allo Suse," Hagen called. Then he had to return their salutes as they all saluted him. "Why are you saluting me? I am a private, no one salutes privates."
"We salute privates," Gerd answered. "We salute everyone in uniform."
"Ja," his older brother added. "Onkel Henry just finished a lesson in military courtesy, when we are in our ROTC uniforms we are to salute everyone in the military. Army, Navy, Air Force or Marines, it doesn't matter."
"Oh, I see." In the back of his mind, Hagen was pleased. This was the first time he had been saluted. "Why the rifles? Is the ROTC doing guard duty now?"
" Nein, though we could. We had target practice on the rifle range in the training camp. " Suse sat down next to Hagen. "Want to see our targets?"
"She just wants to show off." Wendel seated himself on Hagen's other side. "Suse, Hagen knows you are the best shot in the family. Onkel Henry tells everyone."
Gerd sat down on the facing seat. "Not just in the family, but the best shot in the whole ROTC, though if we traded rifles I can come close to matching her."
Gerd's comment caused Hagen to look at Suse's rifle. Where both of the boys were carrying large bore muzzle loaders. Suse's rifle had a bore smaller than his little finger. It made sense. Wendel and Gerd both took after their father and were stocky with wide shoulders. Suse, while she was not a small girl, wasn't close to their size.
"Hagen," Suse asked, "when are you going to start going to school? I know Onkel Henry could have you made an assistant instructor for the Junior ROTC and you would still be in the Army."
"Where did you hear I was going to go to school? I have been trying to get back to the train crew. Why would I want to go to school?"
"I heard Onkel Henry talking to Onkel Anse and Onkel Wili before they left for Suhl. They said Major Beth was going to offer you the chance to go to school here in Grantville."
It all became clear to Hagen. Onkel Henry was Henry Johnson, the instructor for the Junior ROTC program. Onkel Anse was Warrant Officer Hatfield and Onkel Wili was Private Schultz, Wendel and Gerd's father. Major Beth had to be Major Elizabeth Pitre, the commander of the 141^ st Rail Company. Major Pitre had offered to send him to school but he had turned her down, thinking he would be allowed to go with the company.
"I don't need to go to school. I know all a soldier needs to know already," Hagen answered.
"Oh, come on. There is always something new to learn," Wendel commented. "Besides, if you went to school you could finish up in two years with me and we could both go to OCS. Wouldn't it be better to be officers instead of privates?"
"Not me," Gerd interjected. "I am going to study mechanics and become a warrant officer like Onkel Anse."
"Hush, Gerd." Suse frowned at him. "We're talking about Hagen's future, not yours. Besides warrant officers are all people who know how to do something. You'll have to study a lot harder than you are now to become one." She turned to look at Hagen. "And you do need to finish school. There is a lot more than being a soldier. The war will not last forever. What will you do when it is over?"
"I am going to become an engine driver," Hagen asserted. "After the war is over I will work for the railroads they are building, and drive an engine hauling people and cargo. Besides your Onkel Henry says it is going to be a long war. I want to rejoin the train crew to help make it shorter."
"Well, we can talk about it later. Here is our stop." Suse signaled the driver to stop the tram.
"Where are you going?" Wendel asked when Hagen rose to join them.
"I am on my way to see your mother. I am supposed to pick up the coveralls she made."
The two Schultz boys walked on ahead toward the house, but Suse walked beside Hagen. "I hope you are not mad because I think you should go to school. But you should think about it."
"I am not mad, Suse. You're saying what you think. I just don't agree with you."
"Hello, Hagen. Are you getting enough to eat? You look skinner every time I see you." Dora Schultz looked Hagen up and down. It reminded him of the way a mother would look at her child.
" Ja, Frau Schultz. I have been eating at the Thuringen Gardens."
"Bah, you should have came out here to eat and saved your money. With Wili and Anse gone, we have room at the table."
" Ja, you should stay for dinner," Suse said.
"Danke Frau Schultz, Suse, but I have to take those coveralls back to the train shop before I can take time off."
"Tomorrow, then," Dora said in a tone that allowed no excuses. "Wili and Anse will be back tonight and we will have a big dinner tomorrow. Now come with me and I'll get the sample coveralls for you."
Hagen followed her toward the back of the house. "Frau Schultz, you said Private Schultz and Herr Hatfield would be home tonight. Are you sure?"
"Ja, Lieutenant Ivarsson came by to tell me just before you got here. They will be here sometime before nightfall."
Hagen felt a burst of hope. With a new engine that had to be delivered and Herr Hatfield coming back to Grantville tonight there was a good chance he could rejoin the train crew. Herr Hatfield was going to need help with the engine. "Are you sure it will be no problem if I come to dinner tomorrow? It sounds like you'll have a house full."
Dora turned to face him. "Hagen, with seven Kinder in the house, we always have a full house. Ursula and I like to cook and we like to see people eat what we cook. You will come to dinner and you will eat. Besides, he doesn't know it yet but Wili is now a corporal; the letter came today. So we will be celebrating. As the wife of a corporal, I order you to come to dinner."
"Yes, ma'am, Frau Corporal Schultz." Hagen smiled as he came to attention.
"Ach, you are teasing. Here are the samples for you to take to Herr Frank. Run fast and you can catch the tramcar on its return trip to town."
Hagen only took time for a quick wave to the Schultz boys and Suse before he headed for the tram tracks. The tram car was just visible as it made its way back to town. He had missed it. It was supposed to wait for ten minutes after going around the loop at the end of the line. And the driver was also supposed to top up the natural gas in the tram's fuel tank at the large tank there before heading back. That should have taken another ten minutes. Surely I wasn't in the house that long. Hagen started to trot back to town.
He had only taken a few steps when he heard a voice from behind. "Look, Anse, Wili. ' Der Bub' came out to meet us. But looks like he got bored and is going home."
Hagen stopped and turned around. Herr Hatfield, Corporal Rau, and Private Schultz were halfway down the slope that marked the edge of the Ring of Fire. Schultz and Hatfield were riding in a wagon and Rau was riding a horse just in front of them. Hagen felt his hopes rise. Here was his chance to return to the train crew, if he could just make them listen to him.
"Hello, Herr Hatfield, Corporal Rau," Hagen called. "And a special hello to Corporal Schultz. I just heard the news from your wife."
Hatfield slapped Schultz on the back. "There you go, Wili, you're a corporal. I bet Dora already has the stripes sewn on your coveralls."
The door of the house flew open and the entire Schultz family erupted from the house. Dora was in the lead, followed closely by the two Schultz daughters, Talle and Esther. Only politeness kept Gerd and Wendel, from pushing their way to the front, but they were close behind.
Watching the reunion of the Schultz family, Hagen was happy for his friends, but was very aware that he was the odd man out. He was an only child and his mother and father had died in Badenberg, when it had been held by Hoffmann's mercenaries.
Rau dismounted and stepped up beside him. "Hagen, walk with me to take this horse over to the shed. We're just in the way here."
"I should be going back to the train shop. I was not really waiting on you. I was supposed to take these to Herr Frank." Hagen held up the package he carried.
"I'm glad to see Bill Frank has got you hard at work." Hatfield stepped up to them. "We're going to take the wagon in and unload it at the shop. So drop your package in the back and come on up to the house. We'll ride into town and you can help unload the toys we bought for the company. Wili can stay here with the family."
Hagen saluted and went to put his package in the wagon. He knew that when Hatfield said "toys" he had to mean weapons. Sure enough, the back of the wagon held a number of long bundles that had to be rifles or smooth bores. Seeing them piled in the wagon gave the thought of joining the rail company a new meaning. There was a good chance his friends would be fighting a war soon. Hagen became even more determined not to be left behind.
Hagen started to get in the back, but Hatfield waved him to the seat. "Come up here. I want you to drive. We've been taking turns pushing these nags the whole way from Suhl and I, for one, am tired of horses."
"Ja, let der Bub drive." Rau jumped up to sit on the tail gate.
Hatfield settled onto the seat. "Okay, Hagen. Now is as good a time as any for you to tell me what has been going on while we were away."
Hagen started to tell about the orders coming for the rail company to deploy to Magdenburg and then to Wismar. But Hatfield interrupted, "Skip that. We got a radio message from the major while we were in Suhl. What I want to know is what has happened since the company left."
So Hagen told him about the new engine and the two flat cars that the shop crew had ready to go. And about the delivery problem that Herr Frank foresaw developing.
Hatfield shook his head. "Delivery is no problem. We'll load them on a couple of flatcars and haul them to a barge. The barge will carry us to Magdenburg. They're the major's problem from there. What I really want to hear is what you have been doing. I know Major Pitre was going to talk to you about going to school. So why is Private Hagen Filss not following his major's wishes and going to school?"
"Uh, er, H-h-herr Hatfield, it was not an order. The major asked me if I wanted to go to school. When I said no, she said it was all right. I would not have disobeyed an order."
"You're lawyering me, son. You knew she wanted you to go to school. Would you have been willing if you knew I was the one who asked her to leave you behind to go to school? I might make it an order and if I do, you will go to school and you will work hard."
Hagen was stunned. He had thought that Herr Hatfield would be the one to save him from being left behind. His shoulders slumped, and he worked to hold back a sigh of disappointment.
"Sir, is that what you are going to do? Are you going to order me to go to school?"
"I don't know. Right now I think that it would be the best thing for you. Not just the best for you, but the best for TacRail. We need trained men, men who can become mechanics. You did a good job working with Jim Cooper, and now you have experience working for Bill Frank, so you seem to be the one to pick. After all, you'll be taking mostly classes in mechanics."
"All I did was hand Jim his tools, and all Herr Frank has me doing is running errands. Anyone could do what I do."
Hatfield reached over and took Hagen's sleeve between his fingers. "You're still wearing a rail crew patch. The rail crew needs trained mechanics. What am I going to do about you? If you go to school, I promise there will be a spot open for you with the company when you finish. Maybe with a nice promotion. How does that sound?"
"I am happy being a private. I feel like I am letting my friends down. I should be with them, not here safe in Grantville." Hagen tried very hard not to beg or sound like a child.
Hagen brought the wagon to a stop and Hatfield hopped down and went inside the building. He felt Rau moving up to stand behind him. "It's a hard road isn't it, young Filss? You have been getting a man's portion and now you think you are being asked to go back to being a child."
"Ja, but more than that. What if my friends need me? I should be doing something."
"And you feel that you might miss the great adventure of your life." Rau laughed. "I know, Bub. Remember I went for a soldier when I was about your age. Of course, the city fathers of Jena and the night watch helped make my choice for me." Rau patted Hagen's shoulder. "I'll talk to him, maybe I can convince Anse you should go."
"Thank you, Sergeant Rau."
"For that I will be at my most persuasive. I like the sound of Sergeant Rau. It looks like there are going to be three train crews, now that we have three engines. If I get a crew, I'll ask for you as a loader or brakeman."
"Thank you again, Sergeant."
"It is nothing. All you need is a little seasoning. Now head up, act proud, look like a soldier. Here comes Anse."
With all the men working it didn't take long to empty the wagon and fill the store room. When they were done Herr Frank locked the door and handed the key to Hatfield. "There you go. Don't lose that. If you do, we'll have to break the door down. That's the only key."
Hatfield stuck the key on the chain of his pocket watch. "Safe as a bank, I have never lost a key. Bill, why don't you and your wife come by the house tomorrow? Dora is having a special dinner to celebrate Wili's promotion to corporal."
"Sorry, but I'll have to turn you down. Our church is having a business meeting after services, and I have to attend since I'm on the trustees."
"Well, some other time, then." Hatfield pointed his finger at Hagen. "You will come to the dinner, Private Filss. Dora gave me special orders to make sure you were coming."
"Yes sir, Chief Hatfield." Hagen came to attention.
Hatfield wet his finger and drew an imaginary line in the air, "One point for remembering to call me chief." Then he turned and walked out of the shop.
"Filss, it's still two hours until quitting time. So get out of here. I gave you the day off." Herr Frank pointed at the door.
As Hagen was leaving the church the next morning, he was surprised to realize he had no idea what the sermon had been about. He had spent the entire service lost in thought over how he was going to convince Herr Hatfield not to send him to school. Sergeant Rau was his only hope.
As if thinking about him had conjured him, Hagen saw Rau waiting at the tram stop. Unlike Hagen, Rau was dressed in civilian clothing, rather a mixed style with blue jeans tucked into knee high boots of local manufacture. He had topped off his outfit with a long green coat, worn open to show the lace of his shirt collar that covered the top of his red vest.
Rau waved. "Ah, you make your appearance. Dora Schultz will not have to send us to hunt for der Bub. But you don't have to wear your uniform. This is just a dinner with friends, not an inspection."
Hagen thought about making an excuse, but decided that Rau would understand. "Sergeant, all I have to wear to dinner is my coveralls. All my clothing from before I joined the army is worn out."
"Not to worry, young Filss. Come on, here comes the tram."
Dinner at the Johnson house was interesting. With the four Schultz children, the three Eckhardt children and the four adults left in the household it was already a full table. Adding Hagen and Rau as guests made even the large Johnson dinning room feel small.
After dinner Hagen sat for a while and talked with the Schultz and Eckhardt children. Then, getting bored with watching Henry Johnson's efforts to teach Gerd how to play chess, Hagen started to wonder where the railroaders had gone. He wandered into the kitchen where Suse, her mother Ursula, and Dora were just finishing the clean up.
"Hungry again, already? There is some chicken left and a little pie," Dora said.
" Nein, Danke. I could not eat another bite. I was just looking for Chief Hatfield."
Dora pointed out the back window of the kitchen. "He took Wili and Jochen Rau out to the garage. They are talking railroad business."
Hagen headed for the door. As he approached the open garage door he could hear the three men talking inside. What had to be the voice of Chief Hatfield said, "Okay, I don't know for sure what the major has planned, but if we bring her a complete crew to go with the new engine I bet she will keep it together."
"Ja," Hagen heard Sergeant Rau answer. "You will have an engine, Toeffel will have an engine and who will command the new one?"
"Shoot, Jochen," Hatfield answered, "she just made you a sergeant. Who do you think Major Beth will give the engine to?"
"Ja, Jochen, und I will pick from the best brakemen in the company to get you a chief brakeman," Wili rumbled.
Hagen was about to walk away. He didn't want to be accused of eavesdropping. But then he heard his name mentioned.
"I want Filss for one of my brakemen," Sergeant Rau said. "You know he is going to volunteer."
"Jochen, do you really want him? He's awful young," Hatfield answered.
"He was old enough for you to have Wili train him to be a brakeman."
"Yes, but…"
" Und he is a good brakeman, for someone his size," Wili interrupted. "If Jochen is going to have a lot of recruits he is going to need a trained man. I say take him with us."
"I still think he's too young. Would you say the same thing if he was one of your sons? Would you take Wendel?" Hatfield asked.
" Ja. I would watch over him, but Wendel I would let go to war if he was as trained as Filss."
"Anse, I was younger when I became a soldier," Rau added. "And I would bet Wili was even younger when he joined his village militia."
"Ja, fourteen. I was big as a boy," Schultz said.
There was a long pause and Hagen thought that was the end of the conversation. Then Hatfield spoke again. "Okay. I'll talk to Filss. But if he goes, I want him to stay with you. Wili, I'll want you to take good care of him."
Hagen started to back away from the door. There was a chance he might be allowed to join the company! He stumbled over the wood that was piled under the eaves of the garage. The noise caused Chief Hatfield to call from inside. "Who's there?"
"It is me, Chief."
"Come on in, Filss. We were just talking about you."
When Hagen entered the garage he discovered that the three were seated on stools around a stove. Each had a bottle of Herr Johnson's home brewed beer and a small cooler was set nearby that had to contain more.
"Pull up a stool, Hagen. Grab a beer if you like. I want to talk to you," Hatfield said.
Hagen realized this was going to be like juggling one of the grenades Sergeant Rau was so fond of. If he said the wrong thing, Hatfield would order him stay and to go to school. "Chief Hatfield, I don't drink very much beer. I had two glasses at dinner. That's enough for me."
"Probably a wise choice. Hank's brew is not your usual small beer." Hatfield took a sip. "How long were you outside before I heard you?"
Hagen knew only total honesty would work. If he was caught lying, who knew what Hatfield would do to him? "Sir, I was there long enough to know the three of you were talking about me and if I was going with you to Magdeburg. I was not spying, but when I heard my name I had to listen."
Hatfield spoke to the other two men. "Guys, I want to talk to Filss in private. Do you mind stepping up to the house to give us some room? I think we've covered all the bases and we'll be ready to start work tomorrow." Wili and Jochen both made noises of consent and left the garage.
Hatfield turned to face Hagen. "Okay, Filss. I want you to answer a couple of questions and then I'm going to decide if you go with us or go to school. If you're not happy with my decision, I'll cut you loose and you can enlist in one of the regiments the CoC is raising."
Hagen got a lump in his throat at the thought of leaving TacRail. " Nein, Chief, I don't want to leave the railroad company. If I must go to school to stay, I will go to school. I am a rail trooper."
"Filss, why are you so set on going with us? It's going to be a long war. Why is it so important to you to get into it right now?"
Hagen sat and thought. Then he gave an almost honest answer. "Chief Hatfield, I want to do my part. My friends are all going to be in danger. I would feel like a coward, like I was letting them down if I was not with them."
Hatfield looked at him for a moment then asked, "Hagen, you lost your family when Hoffmann was in Badenburg didn't you? You know how war can be? Do you want to go to war because of that?"
"Not to get revenge or anything like that, but to prevent it from happening again. So yes, what happened to my family is one reason I joined the rail company to start with. Mostly, though, it is just wanting to help my friends. To do what I should be doing."
Hatfield leaned back against the workbench. "Son, if I sent you to school you would still be helping, maybe more than if I make you a brakeman right now. In a couple of years you'd be more valuable to TacRail than as a brakeman. You'd still be doing your part. Hagen, I wanted to send you to school to help you."
Hagen studied his boots for a moment. "Chief Hatfield, if you send me to school I will work hard, but I am not sure I would ever become a mechanic. But I am a brakeman now. Corporal Schultz has taught me a lot and I'll do a good job."
"Hagen, tell me the truth. How old are you really? I know you and Jim Cooper lied about your age when you joined up last year. I went along with it and I shouldn't have, but I felt sorry for you. And to be perfectly honest I needed an extra pair of hands. The major jumped me about you a couple of times, and I told her you were small for your age."
"I was seventeen last month. I was fifteen when I joined."
Hatfield stood up and walked around the garage. "Hagen, seventeen is too young to be thrown into what we might face. But if I leave you behind I'll feel like I am punishing you. If I take you will you promise to stay close to Wili or Jochen?"
"Ja. And I will do everything they say." Hagen could feel hope building inside him. Please let it happen, he prayed silently. Please.
Hatfield took another walk around the room. "Okay. Report to the shop Monday morning; you're going with us, so you might as well help plan the move. The major is going to skin my butt when she sees you, but I'm not leaving you behind." With that, Hatfield walked out the door and headed for the house.
Hagen watched him go. Then, in a voice only he could hear, he said, "Thank you, Onkel Anse. The rail company is my family. You, Wili, and Jochen are my onkels. Jim Cooper is my brother. Thank you for letting me go with my family."
Ultralight by Sean Massey
Wismar, Germany
March, 1635
Flight had taken hold of Johann Rommel. Since the thirty-something merchant from Wismar first saw the American air force in action last October, he had decided he wanted one of their strange flying beasts, something they called an air craft, for himself. After several months of designing, waiting, and building the machine, he stood on a shallow slope overlooking the Baltic sea, waiting for his rendezvous with destiny.
The weather wasn't perfect, he thought. It was overcast. The wind had died down, for now, but it could pick up at any second. After making one final check of his craft, he was satisfied and strapped himself in. The crowd that had gathered despite the cold began to clap. His oldest son, who had helped attack this project with an enthusiasm only found in a teenager, waited to start the engine mounted behind him.
As the engine roared to life, drowning out the crowd's applause, Johann thought back to the beginning of the project. Designing the aircraft had been the easy part. He had used a picture of what the Americans called an "ultralight" to create a similar design with a large triangular wing mounted above a small engine and an open air wicker "saddle" to sit in. He soon learned that most of the materials that the Americans used, like aluminum, nylon, and some material referred to as plastic were no longer available. He would instead have to rely on silk and bamboo, which would have to come through Venice. Those materials hadn't come cheap. Or very quickly. Winter had arrived in full force by the time he had ordered the items, and it took almost six months for the courier to deliver them.
Then there was the matter of powering the flying machine. He made a contact in Grantville who was willing to part with an engine. He had been told that the engine came from an "All Terrain Vehicle" that had been involved in some accident before the Ring of Fire. Johann had been assured that the engine was in working order, but he didn't know enough about the technology to check it out for himself. He would have to take that on faith.
Like the Grantville machines he had seen in operation, Johann knew that he would need a propeller. He had carved a simple two-bladed design from wood, and it was now attached to the engine.
The plane began to inch down the slope, dragging his mind back to the moment. I don't want to be so caught up in day dreaming that I miss this important moment. As he picked up speed, he could feel the plane lifting off the ground.
I'm flying, he thought. I can soar with the birds.
Johann attempted to work the simple controls he had rigged up, but nothing happened. He didn't gain altitude. He couldn't turn. Without any experience designing aircraft and no knowledge of Bernoulli's Principle, he had simply guessed, wrongly, at how the thing would maneuver in flight.
He made one more attempt to gain altitude, pulling back on the simple elevator controls with all his strength. It had some effect, and the elevator swung downward to create more lift. Unfortunately, he hadn't gained enough speed to climb more than a few inches off the ground.
The back of the aircraft dropped out beneath him, and the propeller blade cut through the snow and caught the ground, shattering as if it had struck rock. Carried by the weight of the engine, the plane continued backwards as it performed a cartwheel and landed on its wing.
Johann panicked. He hadn't planned for this. The machine was supposed to fly. He could hear the silk tearing, allowing snow to spray up onto his face, as it dragged the plane to a stop. The engine was still running, but the flip had knocked the engine control lose from its mounting, and although he could see it, it was just beyond his reach.
He recognized the distinctive smell of methanol before he had even come to a stop. He made one last attempt to grab the engine control, but it continued to bounce out of his reach.
The right edge of the wing struck a rock, shattering the bamboo edge and sending the plane into a spin, disorienting him. He reached for the knife he had brought with him. With a few quick strokes, he cut the straps holding him into the plane.
Johann landed about five feet from where he had been, face down in the snow. His sense of direction was scrambled, and the only thing he could feel at the moment was a warm dribble in his pants. The knife had somehow remained in his hands, but now that he was stopped, he had let go of it.
He attempted to stand up, but the world was spinning, and Johann quickly found himself face down in the snow again.
Magda Rommel watched in horror as her husband attempted to rise for a third time. He was a little more successful this time, and she could see that he managed to steady himself enough. If the situation wasn't so serious, she was sure that she would have found his flailing arms very comical.
She set off in a full-speed run down the hill. She could see that the plane had come to a stop, and black smoke was beginning to pour from the rear of the machine. While the other onlookers might just gape and stare, Magda had to make sure Johann was all right. As her feet carried her towards him, her mind became a blur. All the anger she had directed towards him over the last few months for spending almost all their money on this fool's errand had melted away and was replaced by genuine concern.
Thoughts of her family's future also filled her head. She had three kids to worry about feeding. Money was now tighter than ever. And her husband would probably require a few months in bed. If he's not injured in the accident, she thought, he'll need more than bed rest when I get through with him. She thought about borrowing some money from her father, but she knew that it wouldn't end her husband's ambition to fly.
"We're moving to Grantville," were the first words she said to her husband. "If you want to fly, you'll learn to do it the right way."