Chapter 15: Twixt Town & Country

CHUCK

Part I

"You can't do that!" I had to break into a run towards Craggs' hut and grasped the lighted torch from the hand of an old stager. They were about to set it on fire. "You can't do that, you're surrounded here by thatched roofs. You'll set the whole town alight."

"He'll be wanting a true Frontiersman's send-off," argued the old timer.

"That may well be so, but the days of burning up the corpse inside a Frontiersman's log cabin have long since passed, particularly when the log cabin is surrounded by lots of other people's houses. There are people in those houses who could be burnt to death."

There were some eight or nine old stagers around, easily recognisable by their dried skin and weather-beaten features. Red faces and unbalanced gait were not just a sign of age judging by the slur in their voices and slowness of their speech.

I was informed later that if it were not for my reputation I would have been completely unsuccessful in preventing the conflagration, with all that it may have entailed. Even these old stagers were in awe of the man who had constructed an impossible bridge.

Finally, I persuaded them that we should delay the cremation until that afternoon, by which time I should be able to have had a funeral pyre built. By that time, and I think this was the deciding factor, I should be able to lay on drink and food to see my mentor off in grand style. We planned to transfer the sight of his funeral to the waggon train field as it was presently unoccupied.

Snapes, the lawyer, was there hovering around. He was pretty near useless, I couldn't understand why Madame had an interest in his practice. I had no idea at the time that he actually held the last will and testament of Craggs. I made it quite clear that he didn't expect to be burned in the log cabin. He had said as much to me, but I'd not even considered the matter before today, believing his death to be years ahead.

The rest of the day was devoted to organising Craggs' funeral. I was surprised to see so many mourners appear, many had been in Hartglade but I had no idea from where the others emerged. I had never attended the funeral of any of the old pioneers. In truth, there were very few of the really old ones still alive, well, that was what I had believed until I saw the turnout.

The event appeared to be to be more of a festival than a funeral with many eulogies given and public reminiscences disclosed with humorous anecdotes that any sombre note was disposed of very quickly. I'm sure the lavish supply of a few barrels of beer helped things along. There was one thing; not one person mentioned a god or higher deity, or anything like that, and I caught sight of no one praying.

I mentioned this to Madame. Without her contribution I wouldn't have a clue as to how people thought around here. "Hasn't it been proved that the idea of a flying teapot* in space is ridiculous?"

I had no idea what she meant, but I suppose half the laws of physics and metaphysics had all been broken around here. She reinforced her argument by suggesting that those who recalled ideas of Allah or Buddha or Christ on Earth, had, for the most part, met untimely ends, and had little for which to thank their deity.

Madame had put in a brief appearance towards the end of the events and for the first time let her public face drop as she stood beside me, neither reaching to touch my hands nor to look at my face. She was unused to showing emotion and I had no idea how to react. I wanted at least to put my arm around her shoulders but her attitude forbade even such a simple expression of sympathy.

After the pyre had completely collapsed, all there were who were left around the embers was a nucleus of some four or five old pioneers, I ensured that they still had a third of a barrel of beer left. It was late afternoon and Snapes was still in the background loitering around, before he enticed Madame and me off to his office for the formal reading of the will.

Snapes already knew that there were three small construction sites of Craggs where work was being held up, not having had his attention for some days. The lawyer wanted to conduct the formalities as soon as possible, and Madame insisted that she wanted to be off quickly to return to my homestead to supervise matters, "You will have far too much to do here," she uttered tersely before I even attempted to argue.

There were a few businesses in which both Craggs and Madame had enjoyed a joint interest. In each case he left his shares to Madame. I was wondering what he would do about the lumber yard and sawmill. Though he ran them, he'd implied he had a part interest in those too. "My interest in all logging and enterprising, lumber and sawmills together with indentures of labour I bequeath to Charles Downing."

"Who owns the rest of the shares in those businesses?" I asked, concerned that I'd have difficulties in dealing with a set of old timers set in their ways.

Snapes had no idea. What a fine lawyer he was! I just had to settle down to hear the rest, "I also bequeath to the said Downing all interests in business or commerce not aforementioned including the on-going contracts and all assets thereof and potential profits, and on the proviso he completes such contracts to a satisfactory level and satisfies any outstanding related debts that are liable. Furthermore, I leave to the aforementioned Charles Downing my residence and the land behind it, which is situated to the rear of the square in Hartglade on the proviso that the wooden building is not replaced for the period of one hundred years.

"From within the confines of my residence, I leave the skin of the Great Mountain Bear and all other skins and furs that are in the sleeping room to Madame Grenouille, the best and most honest whore I have met in my life. I also leave to Madame Grenouille, the jewellery and mounted stones that I have received in payment for my work. They are to be found in the small cabinet above the hanging space. From the main living room I leave the two furs, the only skins I have heard of that exist, of the razor-toothed giant mountain leopard.

"All other worldly goods and possessions I leave to the said Charles Downing, including the large chest and its contents which are to be found under my sleeping furniture."

It was then that I learned that Craggs had not been out and about for upwards of a week, "You will have to check on the timber workers," insisted Madame. "And I'm sure that you will have to get up to date with any of the contracts that Craggs is halfway through."

She was right, I did have a lot on my plate. It was settled that I should stay in town whilst Madame would return on Castor to my homestead for a few days.

Craggs' recent absence from work had resulted in all his projects slowing to a halt. The following day I quickly ascertained that the sawmill had no timber being brought in, and that was speedily rectified by getting the foresters to start the next phase of cutting.

There was a system of re-forestation by transplanting young saplings, which only needed the go-ahead from me to be restarted.

At the sawmill, I discovered very quickly that most of the orders and contracts had been in Craggs' head. It took me all of one day to sort out a work schedule, but after that I knew that there was more than a week's work in ensuring that ordered lumber contracts were fulfilled. Then I had to work out invoices and calculate what bills needed paying as well as chasing up unpaid accounts.

I did think of spending the night in Craggs' log cabin, but it was far easier after a fourteen hour day to turn up at eight o'clock in the evening at the private quarters of Madame, order a meal and drop into bed.

The third day of Madame's absence I recognised that I should be making a personal appearance in the public bar. I returned early, about seven o'clock, and realised that there were two days takings to be counted out. A quick calculation, and I found that, looking back on the ledgers, the last two days' cash income was down.

That evening I slipped into the public bar and glared at the first line up. A little bit of window dressing was called for. Later, after my presence was known, I understood that I was in the line of sight of a couple of young girls who were descending the stairs, I made my way down towards the dungeon area. I know I had been seen. Sitting around for ten minutes, I then returned upstairs to the relaxation room behind the public bar. Let them think what they like about my visit to the S&M and punishment room.

My appearance was greeted by complete silence. Very quietly I made an announcement, "If you continue to work as lazily as you have done the last two days this place will have to close down. I won't allow that to happen during Madame's absence. Anybody who doesn't pull their weight tonight, and from now on until the return of Madame, will be answerable to me. I know exactly what to do, and have prepared a little encouragement for those who don't know what to do."

I'm not so sure how the residents of a brothel can increase the takings in one night. I always thought it was dependent upon the number of people who came through the doors. They could not influence that, it was pure chance. However, that night the takings were one hundred and fifty per cent of any previous night of the past week. Of course I didn't know this until the following evening when I checked the returns.

I made a point of being in the background, behind the punters, in the next couple of lineups that were called. My little speech and rumours of where I had been must have had some impact, you could almost smell the sex oozing from the girls every time I appeared.

I only hope the experiences the punters enjoyed lived up to their expectations. I think they must have done, judging by the 'extras' and 'repeats' that were contracted that night.

For two evenings I followed this routine, and then I quickly turned in so that I could be on my way by six o'clock in the mornings. My days were more than busy, I could do without the hassle of dealing with the brothel every evening.

Part II

It was after a few more days that I came across another problem. I thought that I would have an easier evening after making myself dizzy dealing with Craggs' scraps of paper that he called his accounts. There was a pause after spending most of the morning checking all of the building sites. One of these was a new barn put up for the homesteader, and I was mounted on Pollux when I came back towards Hartglade by way of the lane opposite the orphanage. That route passed by the campground.

In the field I saw that there was a new waggon train that had arrived. In fact there was still a couple of slow-moving oxen and carts navigating their way through the entrance at the slow speed of the draught animals.

I sat on the horse and surveyed the field from a distance, and I could see where the first waggons, mostly drawn by mules were already established and in position. Already their occupants were engaged in such work as washing clothes while the wood fires were already lit for an evening meal.

Making my way back through the centre of town it was quite obvious that there had been another influx. The place was crowded. The Emporium and hardware shops were still open. The livery stable, the carriage works and the saddlers had a queue of people outside wanting repairs to waggons and their accoutrements.

Even at seven o'clock in the evening I was aware that the social club was quite full. "You need to go through," I was informed, the moment I set foot into Madame's quarters.

It crossed my mind as to wonder how, whilst the last vestiges of the waggon train were just arriving, some were already firmly ensconced. I learned later that it was not unusual, once they got onto a safe road, for the mule-drawn waggons to make their own speed whilst the oxen lumbered slowly at their own pace.

Entering in through the back gate and stabling Pollux I was aware that the place was full. I immediately went to the public bar and observed one line up in which three girls were selected by four new pioneers. Five minutes later, there was another line-up and another two girls went to work.

In truth, I was relieved that in neither line up did I see Beth. According to the amount set out in the books she had been more than gainfully employed every day since I came. But I held onto some notion that what I did not see did not happen. There was no way that I wanted to see her chosen by a man and go off with him to fuck. I may have been an old sentimentalist with his head in the sand, but I found it difficult to come to terms with what she did with other men.

In fact, dammit! Having recently tasted sex for the first time since my arrival, I began to feel a bit horny. I knew I could take any girl I wanted, but I wasn't keen on the idea of sharing. I reckon it was just the way that I was brought up, but at the back of my mind I knew I should have to be satisfied soon. There was no way that I could do that whilst we were so busy.

It was then that I noticed that Madame had a system whereby the basic price went up from seven credits to ten credits whenever a waggon train was in town. This not only made more money, but ensured that the regulars delayed their visit to a cheaper day when they had more choice, an example of good marketing, I'm sure.

On my way back through the foyer the girl on duty at the bottom of the stairs told me that there had been visitors for me that afternoon, and that they were coming back at eight o'clock.

The social club was not as full as normal, partly due to the fact that many of the girls who normally worked there were pulling short time customers from the public bar.

You would really think that all the waggon pioneers had not seen a woman in months. This wasn't the case because many of them had a wife with them, in fact by the time they arrived at Hartglade, many women on a waggon train were already seven months pregnant. It crossed my mind that eight more weeks along the Grand Trail there must be a few places with names such as Maternity Mountain, Childbirth Chasm or Birthday Brook.

How my mind wandered! I returned to the present, I never did understand the system whereby 'married' men would rush into a brothel the first opportunity that they had. What was more baffling, was the fact that their 'wives' accepted this activity without open complaint. Of course the word 'married' and 'wives' were words only used in my head. There was no such thing as marriage on Pionova.

I had no sooner jumped into the busy kitchen and picked up a simple sirloin steak with the trimmings than I was recalled to the busy public area. In the foyer, awaiting me, stood four men, a woman and a girl.

I was immediately greeted by the demand, "How much would you give us for this pair?"

Rather taken aback, I ushered the group away to a more secluded area, particularly as the question was demanded in front of a number of other customers. The fact that most punters were from the waggon train was irrelevant.

Such matters were dealt with discretely, "I conduct no such business in public." It just wasn't me to want to hire new prostitutes. Apart from that, I quickly identified that the females were not very pleased with their position. Was this like the Wild West when single or widowed females had NO alternative but to whore themselves if they had no other means of support? How I wished Madame were present to guide me.

We were so busy that there was little privacy in the public area so I took the rather large group into Madame's private office, not the one with forbidden entry, but its anteroom where she generally conducted disciplinary matters with the girls.

I quickly understood that the females in question had got themselves into debt in some manner. According to the four men, it had been decided that the simplest way to expunge the debt was to sell the females to the next brothel.

My mind was in turmoil. There was no way that I was going to see what I saw was a respectable pair of females relegated to prostitution, just because they had fallen on hard times. I wanted to find out what their side of the story was.

My immediate reaction was to refuse to buy them, but further consideration made me realise that if I sent them away I might not be helping the pair. The men may take them off to whore for themselves on the street. It may not be legal, but the deed might be done before it was brought to the attention of the Fathers.

To prevaricate, I asserted, "We take on no women without an examination. You men, go and avail yourself of the facilities that I have here and come back in an hour, and I'll decide how much I can pay you."

I think it was my giving each of them a two-credit voucher towards a ten credit fuck that cleared them from the room with very little complaint.

As the men left the room, I walked behind the pair of them to assure myself that the door towards the public area was locked. I was probably quite naïve in not appreciating what effect this would have on the women in question. They both assumed from my attitude that I had simply sent off the men to ensure that we would not be disturbed while they undressed and perhaps were obliged to give me a try-out fuck.

Instead, when I went back and sat at the desk asking both to take a seat, they looked quite flummoxed. "Now, tell me why you're here?" I started, directed my attention at the more vocal one. The younger one stood there, her eyes darting about in a way that made me realise how scared she was.

"We, my daughter myself ... She's only fourteen. She can't work here. I'll do anything. I'll..."

That surprised me. The older one I took as being no more than twenty-three or twenty-four. That didn't ring true if she had a daughter who may have looked fifteen or sixteen but was, according to her, only fourteen.

"Calm down," I sat back in the chair and wondered how to phrase this, "As far as I can see they are making you come to work here. That's not how we take on whores, generally speaking." Her face screwed up at the word 'whores' as mine used to do. No, maybe she was more than a little screwed up than I used to be at the use of the word. I glossed over that, "And if it's any consolation to you, no female under the age of twenty is allowed to work in a brothel in Hartglade."

The relief that swept over her face was a wonder to behold.

I followed up by asking, "Tell me, why are you here?"

"We were on the waggon train, my husband, and his father. They were in the large prairie waggon that we had. Lucy and I were in the second waggon; it's a farm waggon, a lighter one with only two oxen. Four or five weeks ago we were crossing a river that was in spate."

It was not unusual at this time of the year, as the snows melted on the distant mountains and for a couple of months all the rivers were full.

"A wheel broke on their waggon and it fell over on to my husband trapping him underwater. My dad was thrown off and swept downstream where his head was shattered on some rocks."

She got very upset. I could understand that. "I think lots of stuff could have been salvaged if we had been men, but the first waggon was big and had lots of these agricultural tools in it, they were heavy, but I think some of the others got some of our tools for themselves. The waggon was just left there and there was a spare wheel on the back of it."

I think she was suggesting it would have been possible to salvage it.

"One of the oxen with a broken leg was slaughtered for meat and we hitched up the other three to our waggon. We thought we could sell them."

"So how come you're in debt?"

"Our food was in the first waggon and for the next two weeks the cost of anything that we ate got totted up and we were presented with a bill when we moved into camp here. There was also the bill for crossing that big bridge. We had no money because all the money was in the first waggon,"

"But surely you could have sold something to pay for the food. What did you say about the ox with the broken leg."

Lucy spoke up, "My mom is pretty, and Josh and Calum wanted her to have sex with them the first day Dad was dead. When she said, 'No, ' we knew they were going to do something. They said they'd put her in a whorehouse and fuck her and me."

The females were in tears by this time. I looked at the woman who I had at first thought to be the elder sister, "What is your name? How old are you?"

"I'm Laeticia, Letty. The moment we made camp here they insisted we pay them back money for the food and the toll that they paid for crossing the bridge. It comes to fifty-two credits. The meat of one ox is worth at least seventy credits, and that was a young one, it would've had tender meat on it. We never had any. They owe us for that if truth be known."

I'm sure that the reason she didn't respond to my direct question was the fact that she was so upset. I didn't find her age, she looked about twenty four. Ah! We were in Pionova. I wouldn't fall for that again. She could be any age. I was continually being caught out by that rejuvenation and by the slow aging of arrivals.

Lucy spoke up, "They wouldn't let us sell anything. We have five oxen. My dad was a horticulturalist. Our cart is loaded with seeds. If we were given the opportunity we could have sold them at the market here, but they demanded the payment straightaway."

Laeticia added, "It's not the money they're interested in. They want to humiliate me. Two of them came down to the brothel earlier today and said that the whores line-up in public in front of everybody. They want to see me in a line-up and have to go off with anyone who wants me." She was almost in tears. "And my Lucy!" she wailed, more concerned in the predicament that faced the younger one than in her own problems.

Lucy jumped in, "Each one of them wants to fuck mom because she wouldn't fuck them when dad died."

I think Laeticia muttered something about not using the word 'fuck', but in all honesty I'm not quite sure what was said. They were both quite upset and it took some time to calm them down. Of course I wanted to help them, but I wanted to know more.

Suddenly everything started to make sense to me. I'm sure it wouldn't make any sense to anybody else apart from Madame. "You have lots of seeds, do you know much about old horticulture?" I was hoping Laeticia did, but she only looked to be in her early twenties. Ah, I knew better, and that was confirmed by her response.

"I've been working in horticulture all my life, even as a child I helped dad plant seeds and take cuttings. We were going further North to set up a truck garden." She recognised that I was interested in what she was saying, "I have spent over twenty years working with plants and know all there is to know about soils and climate, feeding and propagation."

"Twenty years! When did you start working? How old were you?"

She didn't understand my question properly, but announced that, "Like other kids, I started work at the age of twelve."

"And you're how old?" You would think that by now I knew and her answer would not have been surprising.

"I'm thirty-two." But she adopted a peculiar thoughtful look on her face. I even sussed out the reason for that. People didn't enquire about the past lives of new arrivals. It was unacceptable, and I realised that I had stepped over the bounds of propriety. My query must have dislodged a forgotten memory of the fact that starting work at the age of twelve didn't ring true with her real history. I skated over that before she worked out that her memory on Pionova could only be traced back a few months, or even just weeks.

I should learn never to enquire too much about the history of people, I did keep on forgetting.

Now I could concentrate on the fundamental reason why she had ended up here. Who decided who came to Pionova, who sought pioneers out with particular skills? These women had not been sent to the brothel by accident. Was it any coincidence that less than a week ago we had been discussing the opening up of the market garden at the homestead? I certainly didn't have the expertise, and neither did Amina nor Cassie.

I was sure that this couple had been sent here to meet me so that I should hire them. I could never fathom out the ways in which THEY accorded their priorities. It looks as if somebody had been earwigging Madame's conversation with me when she had been encouraging me to build up a market garden. The only question was, why were females sent here rather than men, THEY normally sent men as specialists.

Could I not be left alone to get on with my life without continually being directed? It annoyed me, but I shook my head in despair. What else could I do but contract this couple to work for me?

"So, tell me, if I were to advance you fifty-two credits, could you pay off your creditors? And then would you contract to work for me for a couple of years, at least time enough to establish a market garden?"

"You don't want me to... ?" She couldn't put into words the fact that I didn't want to use her as a whore.

I thought that was obvious, "No."

The younger one, Lucy, she started giggling. "You mean Mom doesn't have to go to bed with any man?"

"Not unless she wants to."

Suddenly Laeticia got very possessive of her daughter, "You're not one of them, you're not going to force Lucy just because she's a girl?"

Shaking my head, I explained, "Your daughter, Lucy, is quite safe here. Girls under the age of fifteen are not touched in Hartglade, I don't know what happens elsewhere in the rest of the Deer Valley or the distant Frontier, but until she is fifteen she's OK."

I was suddenly attacked by two over grateful beings, and had to get quite authoritarian to put an end to their embarrassing shenanigans. Then I went to fetch some food for the couple and for the next half-hour we talked about what plants they had. Laeticia was eager to get back to her waggon, "Some of the cuttings and cultivars we have need watering."

"Cultivars?"

"The shoots that we graft onto fruit trees. We have managed to keep over two hundred cuttings alive, though five or six died in the heat crossing the plains." She was trying to explain that there was a best season for dealing with these cultivars as she called them. "We have just passed the best time to graft our good varieties onto existing root stock. We really must get them done quickly, it's a little late already."

"I have a proposition then. We pay these men off their fifty-two credits. Ignore the cost of your ox, that might simply complicate matters. Providing you work for me for a few months, I'll pay you extra for your stock, any seeds and the like which you use, how's that?"

"I think the men wanted more than that for me," said Laeticia apologetically. "And they wanted me to work in this place. They might not agree."

I smiled confidently. If there was one thing I did know, it was the law on hiring and indenturing labour and whores. I carefully explained my strategy, and it was not too long before four satiated men reappeared, exchanging boasts of their experiences with the females they had hired. Madame would be pleased, her girls were giving good value for money.

I'm sure that their motive was to embarrass the girls, and I waited until they had almost finished a round of self-congratulatory macho claims, before interrupting their exuberance, "I think I'll take the pair of them," I announced to their obvious pleasure.

I got all businesslike, "Let's get the legal formalities out of the way first, I believe they are in debt. I can't take on any woman with a debt hanging over her head. We take care of the legal bits first, before indentures can be signed."

I indicated an indentured form and a contract of employment that I had already accessed.

I think that they were overwhelmed by the paperwork as I endorsed and receipted their invoices, even though I was sure their figure of fifty-two credits was excessive. Nevertheless, I paid over the sum to the principal man.

With no further ado I slid over to Laeticia the agreed indenture form for a period of six months. The men were not aware of the length of the indentures, nor did they notice that I did not sign on behalf of the social club or brothel but in my own name.

Laeticia affixed her name to it.

"There's the little whelp, too," added the heftiest of the men.

I put on a forlorn face. "We have to abide by the law around here. She's useless to me. I can't put her to work until she's fifteen and no female under the age of twenty years is allowed into a brothel in Hartglade. The trouble is, by taking the old one I've got to take all dependents under the age of fifteen."

I was pleased that the little diversion got them tangled up in technicalities.

"How much are you paying for the older one?" the most decisive one finally asked.

"Paying? I've already paid. Fifty-two credits, that's a good price."

"It's a good price!"

"Yes, I could however pay more, but who would I pay to? If I was such a fool as to pay over the odds who should I pay the money to? You have no claim on her. Your debt has been paid off. By paying off her debt I've taken her off your hands."