Chapter 35

Friday

I was at peace with myself this morning, and didn’t need the dogs chasing each other, the quiet walk to the creek, or working in the barn this morning. It was a good thing, because the look on Faizah’s face this morning made me sure she would have hunted me down and done me wherever I was when she found me. “I should be fertile this morning,” she husked as I pounded into her as she lay bent across my desk.

When we finished, she tiptoed quickly back to the master bedroom. I’m pretty sure that the women in the kitchen saw her. When she left, I went online to look at the AN-158 jets Sergei had told me about. Since the site was in Russian, I decided to wait until after breakfast and have the twins help me. If I went into the bedroom right now, I might not make it out before lunch, although I suppose that wouldn’t necessarily be such a terrible thing.

At breakfast, Dad reviewed what they had decided yesterday. They intended to build greenhouses over much of the new land, although part would remain as pasture. They planned for five times as many dairy cows, and a much-expanded dairy to provide us with enough milk for everyone, as well as enough to continue making cheese, butter, and ice cream. They hoped to have enough milk to make cottage cheese and yogurt, too. While I knew we had to do it, I dreaded expanding the dairy because the milking parlor and the storage room had to be almost as clean and sterile as an operating room before the health department would certify it, not that we didn’t keep it that clean the rest of the time.

They similarly planned to increase the beef herd. They calculated how much beef we would need each year for four times as many employees as we had now. “Four times?” I gasped.

Dad just grinned knowingly. “You already have more than twice as many employees as you did in North Carolina. When the rest of the strawberries and tomatoes that you already have planted start producing, you’ll need half again as many. Remember, unlike our crops before, we aren’t done when we pick them. We’ll have crops to pick all year long. We’ll be out there on Christmas day picking tomatoes and strawberries. If any of the seasonal and temporary workers here now don’t become full time employees, it will be because they aren’t worth hiring full-time.”

He was right--on all counts.

“In addition, you’ll need more employees to tend the bigger dairy and beef herds,” Dad continued. “Ramón wants to use the Black Angus bulls. He’ll buy a hundred female market calves this year and breed when they’re old enough. The breed of the cows that he buys won’t matter since Black Angus bulls are frequently crossbred with other breeds.

“We’ll also buy another hundred Jersey cows for the dairy. After that, we should be able to expand the herd naturally to increase it further and replace those cows that need to be replaced. The male Jersey calves will stay with the Black Angus, raised for slaughter. Our slaughterhouse will need to be expanded, along with the cold storage and the freezer.

“That means we’ll need more land for alfalfa. We’ll need more field corn for feed for the cattle, pigs, and the poultry. Carlos says that you found a way last year to decrease the spacing between the corn plants without adversely affecting the yield of each plant. He says you had almost six times the average yield per acre. That will help reduce the number of acres we need to plant in feed corn.

“We’ll need a similar increase in chickens, both for eating and for eggs. He says Kroger would love at least twice as much ham and bacon, so we need to increase the number of pigs and the number of smokehouses and amount of cold storage. We can increase the pigs by keeping more gilts to breed this year and breeding the older sows one more time before slaughtering them.

“Turkey production still seems to be about right. Kroger seems happy with what we’re providing them.

“Carlos thinks we should use part of the wooded land to grow hickory. The trees don’t have to be mature before we cut them down and use them for smoking. You wanted to keep some of the northern wooded property available for the deer to keep using. He thinks we should thin the pine trees and plant hickory among the pine. Eventually, we can eliminate the pine and have just hickory. That way the same land is used for two things.

“And we’re going to need more greenhouses for growing the food for our employees. What do you think?” he asked.

“Good so far,” I replied. “We need to talk to Keegan and see how much corn he’s going to need next year, and add that into our projections. I think we should continue to buy the other grains that he uses. The greenhouse that we use to grow summer squash in the winter can be planted in the spring with crops for our use.

“That reminds me, we need to get the mash from Keegan when he finishes each batch and feed it to the dairy cows. It’s supposed to increase their milk production.

“I know that you’re aware of what a pain it will be to build and certify a larger slaughterhouse and dairy,” I reminded Dad, who nodded.

Back in my office, I paid for the webinar and watched the first half, surprised at how detailed it was. I guess that’s why they let you record it if you paid to watch it. Nobody could absorb everything the first time through.

I was getting something to drink in the kitchen when Wekesa came running in just before lunch. “Hungry?” I teased him.

“Actually, yeah, but that’s not what I’m excited about,” he exclaimed. “We found these,” he said excitedly as he dumped the contents of a plastic grocery bag in the middle of his mother’s immaculately clean drain board.

I expected a response from her because he dumped dirt and what looked like dirt clods in the middle of her workspace. He got a response, but not the one I expected. “Where did you find those?” she asked excitedly.

“There are thousands of them in the pecan orchard. These are just part of the ones from around the first tree we cut down. I grabbed them and drove into town to see the county agricultural agent. He verified that they’re pecan truffles,” he replied almost as excitedly.

“Is that what killed the six trees?” I asked, concerned.

“No,” he replied, trying not to laugh at me. “Truffles grow under specific trees, sometimes several different types of trees, like European truffles. They don’t hurt the trees at all. These aren’t worth nearly as much as European truffles, but they make damn fine eating,” he explained. “The ag agent said we might get a hundred dollars a pound if we were lucky,” he continued, grinning.

“A hundred!” I exclaimed.

“This is about two pounds, and we found these in part of the area where we pulled up the roots of the first tree we cut down. There may be three or four more pounds just under the first tree. With five hundred trees, that’s two thousand pounds of truffles, or almost $200,000,” he said.

“Do we use pigs to locate them, or do we have to dig everything up? Will the mulching and watering you do hurt them? How long do they take to regrow, or will they regrow?” I began firing questions at him.

“Yes, no, no, don’t know, and yes,” he replied, ticking each answer off on his fingers. I had to remember what I asked, the order I asked it in, and then match the answers.

“Maybe the Woodalls know something,” I suggested. “If not, there’s probably info online.” I called Carl and asked if he knew anyone with knowledge of truffles. I explained about the pecan truffles. Like I expected, it wasn’t something Kroger would carry, but he’d ask around.

Wekesa was off and running again, this time to find the Woodalls, and with only two truffles. Juwanna had already claimed the rest of them and shooed him out of her primary domain.

“He found the same thing under the four trees at the neighbor’s house. He’d find a bunch every year. Our dog seemed to be able to sniff them out, and Wekesa’d bring them to me as proudly as if they were treasure,” she related emotionally.

I remembered to find the twins and had them translate the aircraft’s web page from Russian into English for me. After at most a minute, both girls were laughing at me. Lidiya finally took pity on me and clicked on a tiny button I had missed with a tinier American flag that translated most of the page into English.

“This would be easier,” Lilia said, picking up the house phone and dialing the international number for the Ukraine, and then the number listed on the web page for sales.

She talked to someone in Russian for a couple minutes, waited for several seconds while she was transferred, and started talking again. Finally, she handed me the phone. “He speaks English quite well,” she assured me when she saw the panic on my face.

An hour later, my plane had been ordered and paid for. While we talked on the phone, the salesman emailed me photos of various layouts and I made suggestions in return. He obviously had access to some sort of drafting program and he emailed me a rough diagram of the final layout. It included seating for forty adults and a small bedroom, one just big enough for a king size bed in case one or more of the women were under the weather--or wanted to join the mile-high club. To one side of the bedroom were six small openings that would each hold a bassinet securely.

Since I paid cash up front, he was going to expedite my order, pulling a plane bound for someone that was financing it, and would outfit it the way I wanted. Personally, I think mentioning that I’d been in the plane of Sergei Dubnikov, the Russian ambassador, helped. The girls were excited that they had been able to help me and took off to tell the others about our new plane, taking a printed copy of the proposed interior to show them.

I also called Cessna and ordered a second Citation X since the little rocket seemed to be the busiest of our jets.

All twelve of the potential recruits called before dinner. I told them that I would eventually need eight as a security team aboard a luxury yacht when we had American and foreign dignitaries aboard. While I wasn’t exactly sure what I needed the extras for, I had one of my feelings that I would need them. They would be making more than they made in the military, would have full medical coverage for themselves and their families, they would be at home most of the time, a home I provided, and much of their food would be provided. I’d supply any arms and equipment they needed, but would probably balk at something like artillery.

I suggested that they at least visit us and talk to my K-9 handlers who had already been in a few skirmishes with me. Only two of the recruits were currently in the military. One would be out tomorrow and the other was finishing his physical rehab. Rather than deal with the two current troops having to fly standby, I paid for first-class airfare for everyone.

None of them had more than a five-hour flight, although three of them had a layover of an hour between flights, and all would arrive at the Meridian airport tomorrow between noon and 3:00.

I was surprised when the Woodalls joined us for dinner. Juwanna explained that she had invited them to share the dinner she prepared. I had to admit, the dish she prepared with the truffles was excellent, but I think it would have been just as good with regular mushrooms.

The Woodalls were excited about the discovery, and already had three of their old exotic mushroom customers who wanted to try them. They had also found a lumber mill that would sell them as much sawdust as they needed. The lumber mill always cut the same types of trees in batches, so they would only get sawdust from one type of tree in each batch. Evidently, different mushrooms needed different types of wood. This way, we could sell the timber to the lumber mill for a higher price and buy the sawdust for a tiny fraction of that price.

Saturday

Carlotta was my Saturday morning desk polisher. When she headed happily back to the bedroom, I turned back to my greenhouse research and planning. It was only 6:30 when my personal cell phone rang. Rarely does my personal cell phone ring that early. My contacts use my business phone, and most others use the house phone. I was surprised when Eunice Norwood was on the other line. “You are a difficult person to reach,” she laughed. “Twyla swore that you’d be wide awake and would have finished breakfast by 6:30,” she said.

“She was right,” I answered.

“We need to start planning the charity raids. They start in a few weeks, and we want to do something special this year,” she said excitedly.

“Like what?” I asked.

“We thought we would re-enact the capture of the Confederate troops in town at the train station, and then have a parade from there with all the volunteers who dress up each year marching in the parade,” she suggested.

“How many people do you have who dress up each year?” I asked.

“Would you believe around two thousand? This is a huge event here every year. Some dress up like Indians, but most wear buckskins or have Civil War era uniforms they wear,” she explained.

I thought it sounded exciting and agreed. By 9:00, I had finalized my ideas for the greenhouses, and I felt ready to present them to Dad and my managers.

At 11:00, I handed Dad my proposal to review and headed for the Meridian airport to pick up the arriving troops. I met each one when they picked up their baggage and directed them to a waiting car. I had one car arrive every half hour starting at noon. Any troops arriving in that window of time went back to the farm in that car. A couple cars returned empty, but many had two or three troops in them.

Well before dinner, I made it home with the last two troops. That gave me an hour to explain to them about our operation, about me assisting federal agencies, about the Pickup Truck, and about the service we performed as intermediaries. I found out that most of them had already gotten the lowdown from the handlers.

“I had a feeling that I would need the handlers and their dogs, and they have been an invaluable asset for everything from security duty to being involved in some of the raids, especially those against the Whyte Knyghts.

“I have a similar feeling about needing more troops, although I have no idea why. I prefer to be proactive and ready when the situation arrives.

“I’ve explained about the feelings of danger I get, and I know it’s hard to believe. I suggest that those of you who haven’t yet had the chance should talk to any of the handlers here, or to the heads of the various federal agencies in Jacksonville or in Raleigh, NC. They have all been warned that they might be contacted and have your names and will answer most any questions you have, as will I.

“You already know what I propose to pay you. In addition to your pay, much of your food is provided. We grow and raise more than half of the food that we eat. Housing is provided for you and your family if you have one, as well as full medical coverage for you and your family.

“Aside from a firing range, a gym, and a pool, we don’t have training facilities, so decide what you need and let me know. Weapons will be provided, and we probably have your favorite in the armory already. If not, I can have it here in two days.

“All the handlers prefer to wear BDUs, although it’s not mandatory. If you’re a blue jeans and T-shirt person, wear blue jeans and T-shirts. God knows I do.

“For now, until everyone gets to know everyone else, I’ll be in overall command but will consult with Zack and entertain ideas from anyone else. Eventually, you will decide on your squad leader. At that time, he or she will be in overall command, although I expect them to listen to me. I don’t claim to be a military tactician, only that I can tell where danger is. The heads of the federal agencies I work with maintain overall command in tactical situations, but always act on the info I give them.

“You’ve undoubtedly noticed that four of you are female. The feeling I’m getting from everyone right now is that it won’t be a problem. That’s good, because I hire anybody that’s qualified. To paraphrase one of my old bosses, I don’t care if you’re a space alien as long as you do your job.

“Anyway, consider yourselves hired unless you decide you don’t want the job. Moving expenses for your family are included. If you have a house to sell, I’ll buy it if you prefer. What else did I forget to cover?” I asked.

“Why are you using the Lucky J logo?” Robert asked. I assumed it was Robert because he looked to be Native American and the last name of Red Fish went with the person on the list named Robert.

“An excellent question. Let me get a good person to answer it,” I said as I paged Mom’s cell phone. “Hey, Mom, can you come to the patio? Someone here wants to know why I’m using the Lucky J logo,” I told her when she answered. Everyone could hear her laughter before she hung up.

I didn’t know she was helping to fix dinner, but she showed up a few minutes later with several of my wives following her. “He uses the logo because he’s the next Lucky Jim,” she explained proudly.

“I tried convincing him of it for years, but he continued to deny it until last year. Even the head of the Lucky Jim Historical Society wondered why it took him so long to accept it. She has confirmed that he is, indeed, the second Lucky Jim and the Lucky Jim Trust has given him permission to use the logo. Oh, and these are most of his wives, although there are still a few outside helping,” she said.

“Oh, man ... oh, man ... oh, man,” Robert said excitedly as he came over and hugged me. “Chief Red Fish of Lucky Jim fame was my ancestor,” he announced proudly. “I’m honored to meet you and more honored to work for you,” he said as he let me go and then shook my hand.

“Thank you,” I replied, still shaking his hand.

We still had some time before dinner, so I showed them around. By the time we got back to the house, dinner was being served. After dinner, they found where they would bunk for the night and called home to share the good news that they had a job.

Sunday

We ate breakfast while debating the merits of my proposal for the new land. My plan called for all twenty-three fields to be under greenhouses. Four would be tomato fields and three would be permanent hydroponic strawberry fields. Two fields would be pasture, two would be alfalfa for cutting, and one field of feed corn. All the fields except those for the strawberries would have the crops rotated, including the pastures.

Two fields would house the pigs and poultry. Four fields would grow the food we ate. The remaining fields would be hydroponic greenhouses. In two, we would grow bell peppers. Like tomatoes, bell peppers have a seven to eight-month harvest window. By timing the planting right, both fields would be producing during the four-month winter season.

Hydroponically grown green onions, spinach, and leaf lettuce would fill the final three greenhouses. By growing them on four different levels (starting eighteen inches from the ground, and then every fifteen inches), decreasing the spacing between plants, and decreasing the spacing between rows, we could grow twelve times as much of each crop per acre, and could rotate plantings so we always had product ready to harvest. Planting one level of green onions every week meant that, after sixty days, one level would be ready to harvest every week. A new level of lettuce and spinach would be ready to harvest every ten days.