Black falcon 6 shunting the shivaree part 1

 Sorry about yesterday; the release of tension caught up with us both and we collapsed under what is essentially cold turkey from overdosing on adrenaline.

6 Shunting the Shivaree part 1

 

The skies were a viciously splendid palette of colours again.[1] The weather hadn’t been right since Luke was a gangling teen still in the schoolroom, back in 1880, when he had become a man over the long winter, working with his father and brother, and their hands, to keep all their dependents alive and as healthy as possible. It was the year that he and his brother Dan had slept in blankets and furs inside a haystack, taking turns to get up to thaw the ice off the muzzles of cows, where their breath froze. The former Cossacks knew hard winters, and made less heavy weather of surviving; and Luke knew how to ski, and had learned how to use snow shoes from the natives, and knew the Cossack tricks of spiked shoes on horses and straw overshoes. But that did not mean he welcomed the thought of another long winter. They had had warning in 1880, from the locals who knew about such things, who pointed out how heavily the beavers built their dams, and all the animals scurrying to build up supplies for the winter.  Luke had seen signs of the beavers at work, and remembered that the far west had been less hard hit than the central states. He could head west and south, towards Mexico, or he could go home for the winter.

Luke decided to go home. If it was a bad winter, an extra hand would not go amiss.

And one thing which the spread now possessed was its own cannery. Dmitro had sworn, after the eventual spring of 1881,  never to let food be short again; and though it might be a tedious diet, all his people would be able to survive another winter on canned corned beef and baked beans. All those who lived on his lands were required to keep a stock of canned food. All the bunk-houses were well-provisioned in case anyone had to sit out blizzards there, and there was plenty of fuel in all of them. The Cherokee tribe dealt with winter in the traditional way, with an ‘asi’ or hot-house, shared between two families, which had no windows, and one central smoke hole, built of wattle-and-daub, with benches or bunks against the walls, high enough that a flea could not jump up to it, it was said, and a central fire, maintained by the elders. Winter squashes and other vegetables were stored under the beds, to keep them from the frost.  Like the Cossacks, the Cherokee were hardy people, and there was mutual respect on his father’s lands. And on private property, nobody could hassle the Cherokee. Dmitro looked upon it that he rented their land; and put it down in the books that they rented land from him. Bookkeeping to handle anomalous peoples had become second nature during the years of ‘Bleeding Kansas.’ Luke grew up knowing that telling a lie was a sin, but that anomalous accounting was just a form of casuistry which was an invention of the Devil that could be turned to the Lord’s work. Luke’s theology might be considered dodgy by some, as he also lived by the maxim that a soft word turneth away wrath, but if that doesn’t work, get your retaliation in faster and harder; and turn the other cheek, but if the other fellow hits it, kick him in the crotch.

Luke decided to go back through Eastbend, and warn the folks there to stock up well; it was more or less on his way, anyway.

 

oOoOo

 

Luke slid in the back door of the jailhouse, seeing that there was very little activity on the street, save some young men, propped up on shop fronts.

“Luke!” Sam Stubbins started. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“Trouble?” asked Luke, laconically.

“With a capital ‘Truh,’ said Sam. “Thank you for the banker; we’re much obliged. And right glad I am that I treated you civil-like, considering the town now known as ‘Redtown.’”

Luke chuckled.

“No, really?  I was not happy, and that makes me proddy.”

“I like how your proddiness is non-violent,” said Sam.

“A gun’s a tool; those who worship it as the saviour of all problems have sold their soul to it, and the last charge carries them all the way to hell,” said Luke.

“Won’t disagree there,” said Sam. “Which leads to my problem. You know that Banker and Mrs. Spence brought Lucy Fiennes with them?”

“Is that the name of the schoolmistress? I didn’t ask.”

“Yes, that’s Lucy. And it ain’t romantic but I offered her a father for her child in return for companionship, cooking, and cleaning. I’d like more, she’s danged purty, but I’m hoping to work up to that gradual-like. And she agreed. Only some idiot told the Redtown lot, and all the young, unattached men have turned up to give us a shivaree.  Or that’s what they say.”

“And your Lucy isn’t up for a raucous party from those who essentially drove her out?”

“If that was all, we’d endure it,” said Sam, grimly. “But I overheard one of them talking in the saloon, before he saw me, and the gist was that they planned to grab the bride and each of them ‘give her a try,’ seeings as she’s soiled goods.”

Luke’s breath hissed in.

“As if she hasn’t suffered enough already!” he said.

“I know; and I could shoot them all down, but can I legitimately do that to the young men who are the best hope for their community?”

“I would, in your shoes, because your wife is your responsibility, and a man has the right to protect his own family,” said Luke. “But I can see your point.  I killed a bunch of rowdy ranch-hands who would not heed my warning, but from what I can see, this is a bunch of youths scarce more than boys.”

“Lucy says she’s taught most of them. They’re the winter scholars – needed on the farm most of the year round, but go to school for the winter term. She used to dread their coming, I think, for the trouble they made.”

The door opened, and the still trim figure of the former schoolmistress tripped in.

“I brought you a meat pie, Sam; Uncle Ben saw me across with his rifle,” she said. “Oh! I didn’t know you have company.”

“This here is the man you wanted to thank for killing that animal and took you to Ben and Ruth Spence,” said Sam.

Lucy blushed.

“I owe you a great deal,” she said. “And... and what little I remember, you were very gentlemanly about the whole thing.”

“No other way to be, for a lady,” said Luke, who had put his hat back on in order to raise it, before tossing it onto the peg by the door. “So, these hoodlums are former pupils; that must have been awkward if they tried to express, er, admiration in the classroom.”

Lucy went red again, but she was plainly more angry than upset.

“They tried to disrupt the whole class, but I had some respect from them after I called one up to be whipped and told him to hold out his hand. He did; and put it...” she burned, “on my bosom. I saw red and as I was holding the pointer to whip him with, I put it under that outstretched arm, grabbed the other end with my left hand, and twisted, hard, inwards, forcing Jeb – Jeb Burrows – off balance, a position I further encouraged by kicking his feet out from under him, whereat he fell over, and I plied the pointer as hard as I could on his britches, and the little tyke hollered as if he was a six-year-old,” she added, with satisfaction.

“Madam, you are a worthy wife to a lawman,” said Luke. “I see; he wants revenge for his humiliation and he wants to humiliate you back, not having any real idea, I suspect, how much of a violation this is to a woman. And his friends to back him. Sam, how many?”

“A dozen, Luke; and that’s what makes me nervous. Half-a-dozen I could maybe control, but a dozen proddy young rowdies with a woman on their minds?  I could no more control them than I could control a thousand head of young bull beeves with a field full of cows in season ahead of them.”

“So, when’s the wedding?” asked Luke.

“Tomorrow,” said Sam.

“I’ve got two suggestions for you,” said Luke. “One is that you make me sheriff for a week, and Banker Spence deputy and you get married today instead and disappear for a week on honeymoon; or that you deputise us both, make one of those cells of yours a bit more comfortable, so that your good lady and Mrs. Spence can lock themselves inside it, and you and Spence and I set up some surprises round the back, and you back me up with rifles whilst I give them a lesson in minding their own business.  And I want a rawhide in the meantime; I’ve got one arapnik but I know how to use two at once.”

“Arapnik?” asked Lucy.

“Cossack word. Heavy rawhide whip, fifteen feet long,” said Luke. “With a weight on the end, you can kill with it. You can take a gun from a man’s hand, take his feet out from under him, and oh, yes, you can whup his ass as well.”

“Can you handle a dozen, Luke?” asked Sam. “I’d as soon not run out on my post.”

“So long as you and Mr. Spence ride shotgun, and shoot any guns out of any hands that are out of range of my whips,” said Luke. “Reckon I could handle it with Mr. Spence alone, but having both pairs of extra eyes would be good.”

Lucy opened the door.

“Uncle Ben, look who’s here!” she said.

The banker came in.

“Well, now, that’s a sight for sore eyes,” he said. “I disremember if I thanked you proper-like for saving my life, but here I am, as right as a trivet, and ready to shoot down those hoodlums threatening our lass, Lucy.”

Luke outlined the plan, and Ben Spence nodded.

“We’ll get quilts and pillows for the ladies brought across tonight, whilst them young fools is suppin’ in the saloon,” he said. “And plenty of vittles too, so we can withstand a siege.”

 

Sam fetched a rawhide for Luke, insisting on paying for it, and Luke painstakingly cut it into strips, going around it, and plaited them, finishing with the heaviest plait at the handle, which was stiff and unbending.

Out the back of the jail house was a small yard, with stables, barn, pump, and woodshed. Luke set light tripwires which, when completed, would drag matches out of a matchbox over sand paper to set them off when pulled roughly from the box, by the thread of the tripwire. The boxes of matches would, in turn set off a load of firecrackers.

Luke also found a stool and a kerosene lamp of the sort which has a long glass chimney above the flame and reservoir. He checked heights and sniggered. His dimples and moustache danced in glee.

“What are you up to, lad?” asked Spence.

“Guarding our rear,” said Luke. “The back door handle is brass.”

“Mr. Sokolov, you must have been a holy terror at school,” said Lucy, severely.

“Didn’t get much chance; my ma was the schoolmistress,” said Luke. “And she was always two steps ahead of me.”

“She probably needed to be,” said Lucy.

“She let my sisters and me loose on any government agents,” said Luke, cheerfully. “When my brother thought he was too old for that sort of thing. We led the likes of official bounty hunters on a wild goose chase through fire ants, glutinous mud, bushes, and then mother abused them for taking her nice, pristine children and making them filthy. It was great fun.”

“I wager,” said Lucy. “What had the government agents done to you?”

“Oh, we were hiding runaway black men,” said Luke. “Made scapegoats.”

“That puts a different light on things,” said Lucy.

“Oh, we were young hellions anyway,” said Luke, happily. “Burn out some of Sam’s baked bean tins to clean them, will you, and hammer a nail hole through, we’ll string them on a line across the back of the yard at neck height, to alert us and scare the opposition.”

 

Overnight, bedding was brought to the jail house, to make the cells more comfortable. Sam already had big jars of fresh water, in case of a jail house siege, and tinned food.  He nailed planks over the windows of the cells.

“You’ll want more than this for the winter,” said Luke. “It probably won’t be as bad as back in eighty-eighty-one, but I think it’s going to be bad. I saw some pretty thick beavers’ lodges and the squirrels are too busy building stores to show a proper degree of fear. If I was you, I’d advise the store keeper to get in plenty of dried goods, so he doesn’t have to put up prices for scarcity when they’re needed; and get in plenty yourselves, to make sure there’s always plenty more down cellar in a teacup.” He considered. “Make sure you have plenty of blankets to put over the door and windows, put shutters on the cell windows in case you’re caught here. Where are you living?”

“Uncle Ben and Aunt Ruth had a house built next to the bank,” said Lucy. “Sam’s been building a place next door.”

“Aye, and it’s not as fine as a board house, for lumber’s cheaper than board, and I won’t start married life beholden,” said Sam. “It’s a log house, and I’ll put a false front on it to please the town bellyachers, but it is as it is.”

“I suspect Mr. and Mrs. Spence will be mighty glad to come into your log house,” said Luke. “They’re warmer than board houses, and easier to keep warm.”

“You’re welcome to stay the winter with us,” said Sam.

“I’d accept gladly, but I want to get back to my own folks,” said Luke. “You know how it is.”

Sam clapped him on the shoulder.

He knew how it was.

 

 

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[1] Krakatoa. The years 1880-87 were a mini ice age not helped by an Icelandic volcano + Krakatoa