"Are you sure that we can sell the pups I don't want to keep in this program? Feeding this many dogs is going to be next to impossible for me. They need to be fed a lot to grow properly." Duncan looked at Wilhelm. "I'm also looking after my daughter Noreen, you know, and even with Gayla's help. . ." He made no mention of the fact that his son-in-law, now a very wealthy man, had ensured that Noreen had enough money to cover all expenses at the care center. He hated Chaffin and his mother, Kitty Ann, with a passion.
"But if I can sell our rejects, it'll go a long way to covering basic expenses and spreading the gene-pool. Some of the dogs will be good at some things, but not like Old Pete, which is what we're aiming for right?"
Wilhelm simply nodded when it sounded like Duncan was on a roll. Interrupting the big man wasn't something he considered a healthy risk
So he just followed along as best he could, and watched where he stepped in the backyard. A skill a man of his duties normally could do with out a thought, but these were big dogs and the puppies ran free in the huge backyard.
"I have another surprise for you two and Count Ludwig. I acquired another fine pair of breeding dogs for him a couple of months ago. They've already pupped, too. Fast breeders." Duncan walked him around to the back of the yard well away from the house and regular kennels.
"What the hell are those?" Wilhelm asked, jumping back when two tiny wiry-haired dogs leaped at the chain-link fencing that kept them inside their small run.
"Those, Wilhelm, are a pair of Rat Terrier-Chihuahua hybrids, the fiercest yappers in the universe. They are supposed to be the bane of rats anywhere, but bred small enough to be the lap dogs of ladies and gentlemen in what was my world." Duncan kept his voice serious. Who'd want one of those things sitting in their lap?
"My God! Don't they ever stop yapping? It's so high pitched and annoying! How much did they cost?" Wilhelm started to draw his new pistols. "I'll pay you twice what they are worth if I can just shoot them! Why would the count want such annoying dogs?"
Duncan put his hand on Wilhelm stopping him mid-draw. "I didn't say they were for the count himself. They're meant for him to pass out as gifts."
"Who in their right mind would give these noisy creatures to anyone as a gift?"
"Wilhelm, my friend, for someone who spends so much time in and out of court, I'd think you'd know how to play their game better." Duncan bit off his smile before it could form. "Who said that Count Ludwig would give these dogs to people he liked?"
"You are a wicked, wicked man, Duncan." Wilhelm smiled slowly. "I am sure Count Ludwig knows more than a few people who are deserving of such a fine gift of a rare up-time dog. I don't think two will be enough, though. Could you breed more of them? I only count four puppies."
Duncan winced but nodded. "It'll cost you. Feed, care, fighting the urge not to strangle them . . . I'll be sure to emphasize that they're fearless, determined, energetic ratters on their papers, too. At least that's what their ancestors were bred for, or so I read." He passed Wilhelm a photocopy of the two breeds' selected histories along with a notarized statement from Les Blocker. "I'm sure you can work with these to come up with something that would impress a courtier whose nose is so brown he can't see without help of a lantern."
Wilhelm looked at the two tiny, hyperactive dogs again. "And how soon would these pups be ready to be separated from their dam?"
"Separated from their dam? My good man, you're taking them with you when you leave tomorrow. I'll keep the parents to breed, but the pups were weaned last week." The look on Wilhelm's face was almost worth as much as the coin Duncan suspected was in the man's pouch.
"Wilhelm, I'm gonna need you to come by at least three times a week to see that the boys are taking the dogs through their training paces and keeping the yard and pens clean. Conrad and I are off to Hamburg for the Summer Fair. We're taking most of the rejects and some of the true breeds with us. Conrad wants to visit his cousins while we're there, and says there's someone I just have to meet.
"I think he wants me to meet this merchant I've been arguing with about prices. We've exchanged tons of letters since the topic of the Fair came up. He says I'll be glad to meet this merchant. Someone close to his own family is all I can get out of him.
"Stubborn as hell, and demands to see the dogs before deciding on a proper price. Not even the letters and sketches or affidavits have sold him on how good Old Pete's pups are. And they are only buying two of the pure breeds to begin with! For some reason, I think Conrad's setting me up for another joke. Man's full of secrets."
"Who, me? I'm just a plain old game warden, Herr Cunningham." Conrad walked up with his eyes twinkling. "Good cider, this. Think I'll get a refill and some for you two, too." He turned to go back inside the house. "And remember I didn't say it was only the dogs you were bargaining about, Duncan. Just that the deal included two of the true breeds. Be sure to bring those clothes the count was nice enough to have made for you for when we are at the fair. You'll make a better impression wearing them."
"I'll look like a damned peacock, is what! He better be right or I'll show you a move I learned watching wrasslin'."
The rear gate slammed open and a kid from the neighborhood called for Duncan as he ran towards them. "Mr. Cunningham, Mr. Cunningham!" He tried to yell over the barking of over twenty dogs. The boy slipped through the muck in the back yard and landed at Duncan's feet with a splat.
Duncan picked him up easily. "What is it, Tommy?"
"Your alchemist. The one learning stuff up at the school? He's. . . he's . . ." The kid looked at the note he held. "Absconded. With everything, all your research papers and some of the Three M lab equipment, too! They're still doing an inventory!"
Duncan sat down hard, feeling like he'd been gut-punched.
Conrad turned to the boy, "The police? Have they been informed?"
"They sent me with the note, phone was busy. The high school called it in. They thought maybe he was taking a sick day or was down at the lab and sent someone to check on him and everything was gone! They are still checking what's missing from Three M's labs."
* * *
"Don't worry Duncan, we'll get him." Conrad's voice chilled the summer air. He had taken the phone off the hook so Duncan would have one day of peace at least. Now it was up to him. He owed Duncan that much. "He can't have gone far in a day."
"Conrad, we can't kill him or let him hang! He's the only one that's been able to make any insulin so far. Three M's techs were working on a better way of purification for me. He's still too important."
Conrad left his friend sitting in the mud with Old Pete and his pups licking his face. This was one thing he couldn't help his friend with directly, but he did know some people. Time to round up a posse, as Duncan called it.
He trusted his men and their new dogs more than any others to deliver the fleeing alchemist alive, no matter how long it took. He cleared Duncan's phone line and pressed the button marked "Police." The phone beeped three times and there was a click as someone picked up the phone on the other end. It was a familiar voice.
"Hullo, Mrs. Clinter? Yah, this is Conrad, I'm over at Duncan's. Yes, we've heard. I need one of your men to describe the fugitive to my men. They will be by as soon as I can call the castle. No. I won't be going along, and neither will Duncan.
"We're due in Hamburg shortly, north of Jena, so we must leave soon. Perhaps even as early as tomorrow. Send me the bill for the posters and pamphlets. This thief now has a bounty on his head which will be paid for live capture and delivery only. Yes, I'll guarantee the bounty. Even if I have to pay it myself. How much do you suggest?" Conrad listened for a few minutes, then interrupted.
"I don't know about your local prosecution, but would forced labor be a just punishment? So what's the difference between his working supervised at a lab during the day and cleaning up shit off the streets at night? Danke, Mrs. Clinter. I must make some more calls now. Expect my men soon."
Grantville U-haul and Salvage Facilities, early
fall 1632
Dalton Higgins picked up a book and a calculator that had seen better days and started adding up some numbers. "No way we can make full value of this truck in two weeks, Duncan. Would a quarter now and the rest in quarterly payments be fair?"
"That will have to do. I need to buy some new equipment and Three M stock, soon. Before they vote my personal projects off the table and reassign the labs and lab time while I try to recover my insulin project.
"Conrad's men got the runaway alchemist back for me pretty quick, but not before bandits stole or broke the gear. Figure it's going to cost me either way. I rather be safe and have the cash and stock to back my requests."
"Would letting you vote my shares in proxy help you, Duncan?" Dalton asked. "My daughter suggested I invest in that company and I might have—" He coughed. "—a few shares to vote."
"You'd do that for me, Dalton?"
"For that truck and Linda's ATV, and paid back over time? Yeah, I would."
"You'd be saving my life, Dalton. Literally."
"It can't be that bad yet, Duncan. I heard you whupped Mr. Chaffin pretty good down at Tip's recently, for how he's treating Noreen."
Duncan half grinned and turned away to hide his blush. He was really too old to be stuffing men into trash cans anymore, but it sure had felt good to do it. He turned back, serious once more. "Doc McDonnell came up with a blood test for me after we started to get some insulin made. Mostly to monitor how it was affecting me. I'm sort of a living guinea pig, but I ain't got no choice, you know." Duncan unhooked the keys for his beloved four by four truck and his lost wife's ATV and handed them over. "The proxy votes and the papers saying I can vote them as I see fit, soonest. The rest when you can afford it. Richard Nelson, my lawyer, will handle things while I'm gone.
"By the way, gents . . . when's the last wedding you went to?"
"Why?" Harrison asked.
"I found a keeper, and I don't want to let her get away. I'll let you know 'bout that after I get back from Hamburg again. Seems I have some unfinished business there." Duncan actually smiled for the first time that day. It felt good. "Speaking of that. Think I could borrow one of your newer luxury-ride carriage prototypes?" It'd make traveling the roads bearable and he wanted to impress the lady. He was sure Conrad would know someone who knew how to drive a carriage properly.
It was good to have friends.
Late fall 1632, Grantville
"What do you mean you're getting married, Dad? Who to? What's her name?" Gayla reached for and unlocked the bottom drawer of her desk where she kept the cherry syrup she made herself. With news like this, her herbal tea was going to need a little extra sweetening.
"No, I'm not mad. I'm just surprised. You sold how many dogs? You're kidding, only four?" Gayla dropped her cup of tea when she heard how much money her father was bringing back home.
"That's a lot of money, Dad. And you sold futures on twelve more trained pups? Jesus, that's a lot of money. Are these people crazy? I guess that's why you wanted to borrow my Chihuahua for that other experiment of yours?
"What are you going to do with it all? More insulin and purification research, I hope." Gayla swallowed hard. She'd done what she could with her connections and training to keep him in good health, but she'd known all along that it wouldn't last, not unless he found a source of insulin soon. Dad was taking enough of a risk trying the stuff without sufficient testing on rabbits, rats and pigs first. It wasn't enough in her book, not by a long shot.
"Yes, Dad, more funding would be a good idea, especially if they get more trained alchemists and lab-techs out of the deal.
"Just be sure you pay off all your own bills first, before you go and spend that small fortune you just brought home with you. What do you mean you got rid of your truck? That had to hurt.
"Dad, you're doing it again. Talking about everything except what I want to know about. So tell me about this woman, Father. What? She's younger than I am! No I'm not jealous, but . . ."
She glared at a co-worker who was standing close enough to overhear her conversation. "Don't you have something to be doing? No, not you, Dad." Her co-worker scooted off, whistling the opening bars to the wedding march and Gayla stuck out her tongue at her.
"Yes, I'll get the family together. Where do you want the reception? Marcantonio's? Go figure, you've always had a weakness for his pizza. Dad? I'm glad you're happy. Yes, I'll help. And where are you calling from? Madgeburg by radio with a telephone patch at central? Next Tuesday? That's too soon!" Her eyes narrowed. "Dad, why do you have to get married so soon? No. I don't believe it's part of a business deal . . . Dad! I don't need those details!
"Can she stay with me until the wedding? Of course, she can. She's going to be family, isn't she? But, we're going to have a talk about the menu when you get here . . . just because it's your wedding, you're not going to stray from your diet." Gayla mopped up the tea from her dress and barely bulging stomach.
"Noah misses you, Dad. He reminds me every day about your promise to play some round-ball with him when you got back in town." She listened to his response through the static. "Yes, I think Noreen would love having flowers in her room. Just don't go nuts. I don't care if the dogs are selling for that much." Her dad was as good with children as he was with dogs. That made her life easier, since her nephew Noah had moved in with her, instead of living with his philandering father. Duncan spoiled Noah to no end, though.
No chance in hell of Kitty Ann Chaffin offering to watch the boy. His grandmother was afraid that Noah might throw one of the fits Noreen was capable of occasionally. Kitty Ann even feared Noah might infect her. It was too bad Kitty Ann was her father's neighbor, but that's how Noreen had found the boy she'd eventually fallen in love with and married.
"Okay, Dad, I think I can manage that much. I found some more medical books you'll want to borrow. Oh! Can you believe they're making me learn Latin now, so I can talk to the doctors that come through here and read their orders and talk to them?
Gayla listened through the buzz. Drat, that was annoying.
"Really? You mentioned her family's rich, but they deal in sugar, too? What do you mean she's bringing a sweet dowry with her? When? She's with you in Madgeburg already? Dad!
"I can't do it all, I'm pregnant, remember? Let me talk to my future stepmother. Don't you mind what us girls are going to talk about. You just remember to get that glassware you needed, and pick up the gears they ordered for the centrifuges at the lab. I still got the list right here. Or do you want to pay to hear it again?"
Gayla spent the next three minutes meeting her stepmother-to-be. They talked about what the bride wanted for her wedding. Gayla made sure to remind her to berate Dad about his diet. She took notes without realizing it.
She also told her about his disappearing for days at a time, sometimes, with one of his local friends named Conrad. He was a cousin? Before she hung up—at the insistence of the operator who said that there were others waiting to use the line—she finally got her name.
Sophia Walker. Half-English, half-German, and all stubborn. She wasn't Mom, but maybe she was what Dad needed to keep him focused.
It had been her eyes, Dad said. Big. Blue.
Gayla stood up slowly and arched her aching back. This was her third try at having a baby since the Ring of Fire. She hoped she was able to keep this one past the first trimester. "Ugh."
"Someone's getting too fat for her own good." A cheerful and familiar voice came from the reception office's doorway. "Oh! Fresh tea, just what the doctor ordered."
"Dad's getting married, and guess who got volunteered to set things up?" Gayla harrumphed over her shoulder at her friend and co-worker.
Gwen Higgins was due a baby of her own near Christmas and well knew what Gayla was going through. "If you can put together a rotating four-shift schedule together for this place and make it work, then putting together a wedding and everything that goes with one shouldn't be much of a challenge." Gwen smiled and eased herself into the d
esk's seat and adjusted the lumbar support with a sigh.
"I'm sure Duncan's done right by himself and who says it was him who picked her? Bet on the woman every time. Men are easily kept in line, too. Now scat, you got a nephew to pick up from school, don't you?" Gwen mimed a pinch and Gayla giggled.
Gayla wondered what type of woman would put up with an old bear like her father who was so set in his ways. Nearly everyone thought he was a major bully or just plain pushy. Then again, what type of woman could capture her father's heart in two week's time in person and over a summer's worth of letters that were gender neutral and argumentative as well?
Sophia must be a real looker and smart, too. Dad probably didn't stand a chance. For some reason that thought made her smile even more. Dad definitely deserved a second chance.
Late fall 1633, Duncan's house
"Count Ludwig is that pleased with the new breed of dogs you have created, Duncan. Very pleased." Conrad smiled over the bourbon on the rocks and swirled the glass slowly, letting it clink. It was snowing outside, the fireplace was roaring and some of the trained dogs were scattered about the floor, giving undisputed room to the biggest of them all, Old Pete.
"I think Old Pete's eyeing your boots again, Conrad."
"I believe you taught him that trick, Duncan. Like I said, the count is pleased. The dogs you trained not only flushed enough game to let them feast well during his last hunt, they pulled a guest out of a half frozen pond. He couldn't ride or swim. I'm glad to say both the dogs and man survived the ordeal. He was an important guest. A Swiss historian and academic philosopher, who's interested in the changes you folks call the butterfly effect. Not exactly the type who should be out hunting, but he wanted to try it at least once. It was almost his last time, except for the dogs reacting before anyone else did."