Jethro and Homer were no fools. 'Saaay, there, Jack,'ventured Jethro, 'We know the way. How 'bout you catch up with us in a bit?' He winked at Homer, who shook the reins, 'Walk on!"
And the team headed off to Crowley Lane sans Jack for the moment...
Ok, best just have it out then, Jack, he told himself, and hitching Trotsky to the gate, he headed to Em's door and knocked. 'Emmeline? Em?' He knocked again. 'Em, listen!' Jack bent to the keyhole and talked to the other side, 'We just ran into Jethro and Homer in town, and I introduced Al, and Al invited them over! Hey, you know it'd be a good thing for him...Em?...anyway...no bat-bombs, Em, I promise! I just wanto play music with these guys, and help Al, you know,focus on something different awhile...'Jack stopped talking. His back ached from bending over so long. He stood and sighed.'Ok, Em...if that's the way you feel...'
Emmeline had stood at the door, listening, arms crossed, tapping her toe in frustration at Jack's litany of excuses. She didn't open the door though. At last, she heard the sound of Trotsky trotting off to catch up with Jethro and Homer...
Sighing heavily, she turned, and gave the door a kick behind her, and addressed Mac then: 'Men! You just can't be trusted, can you?'
Mac grinned and wagged in agreement, she thought.
. . . . .
Meanwhile, back at the ranch...Jack arrived to find Crowley House dark. However, he noted that his guest's wagon was there and the horses were unhitched and had been turned out to pasture...and he saw, the stables were active with lights on and a great din of noise echoing from within.
Leading Trotsky slowly closer, he patted the bay's neck, 'Easy, fellah...' What the devil had Parsons been working on? Well, maybe Trotsky had better sense than them all...'Better just stay here, boy...I'll go on alone!' he unhitched a twitchy Trotsky and gave him a cursury rub-down before turning him out to play with Lulu Belle and Scotty.
Jack warily approached the stables just in time to hear a steam-whistle blow and appreciative hoots and hollers from Homer and Jethro. He thought he could actually feel the ground shake as he approached the Dutch doors, and as he pushed the top half open wide,he couldn't believe his eyes!
There in the stable corner he saw Aleister, wearing huge goggles and muffled in fire-proof apron and gloves, grinning broadly and looking every inch the mad scientist, hovering atop a ladder which arched over the contraption making the noisome din. It was
big, it was metal, it was a huge round cylinder on large grooved metal wheels. It had a smokestack and belched steam. Ah, and it had a small steam-whistle. But what the creature was, or what it did, other than make an unholy racket and shake and steam, Jack hadn't a clue, as yet.
'Jack!' Al waved him over.'Come join us,'he yelled.
Al climbed down the ladder, grabbed a lever and shut the steam-belching beast down with a hiss and a shudder. He strode over to a wooden table where he'd hastily tossed an old horse blanket and
had set a bottle of wine out upon it with rolls, apples and cheese as well. Pouring a glass of wine, he handed it to Jack, and stood grinning, hand in apron pocket, waiting.
'Congratulations, Al!'Jack took a sip, and looked at the thing.
'What the devil is it?--AND, where have you been hiding this behemoth?'
'Behind the hay, of course! It was under tarps. I just wanted to keep it a surprise until I got 'er up and running! What d'you think, eh?' Parsons poured more wine for himself and all.
'Hey, I was saving that wine for dinner! Baked a pie, too!' He nodded at Homer and Jethro.
'Well, damn, now I am impressed!'said Jethro, taking an appreciative sip. 'Nice wine.'
'You got that right!'Homer agreed,'I can't believe you ole boys have been rustlin' up steam engines and embarking upon such excellent wine tastings and pie makings down here in lil ole Pankhurst and we never knew!'
'Apparently, you're not the only ones!'Jack shook his head, 'Al you sly dog you!Let's see this beastie...' He walked carefully closer to the still hissing contraption.
'Hot still, Jack. Take care.'Al cautioned.
'Hmmm...'Jack edged around the machine.'It would seeeeemmm...to be a steam tractor! Could also function as a mobile thresher?'
'Eventually.' Al confirmed. 'But it could do so much more. The thing is, we need to work on the fuel type.' Al set his glass down and joined Jack at the metal monster.'What we need do, Jack,'Al eyed him meaningfully,'Is to set things in motion for a methane-fueled steam engine!'
Their guests were paying attention. 'Meth-ane? What's that, then?'asked Jethro. 'If it involves bat guano, I might know of a
source.' He grinned.
'Boys, we have so much to talk about!'Aleister lifted up his goggles onto the top of his head. 'Just so darned pleased you could make it on over!'He looked at Jack,'Let's eat!'
All were amenable to this suggestion as Jack gathered up the wine and comestibles, and they took the lanterns with them to the house. 'That thing ok in the stable, Al?'
'It's surrounded by flame-retardent tarps, the hay is all well away. Just fired her up there because it's a special occasion! Won't be running it in the stable! We can do that outside!'
Jack was relieved to hear it. The men washed up and as Al changed clothes, Jack beckoned his guests to table, whilst he proceeded to set out supper; tamale pie, (Emmeline's recipe) hot German potato salad, collard greens with mushrooms, more rolls and more wine of course.
'"Can you bake a cherry pie, Jacky-boy, Jacky-boy?"'sang Aleister, as he sat at table, rubbing his hands.
'Nope, but I did manage a sweet-potato pie, not bad if I do say so myself! Dig in, podners!' And they did so. Jack poured wine all around, and taking his glass held it on high, saying,'To the
doctor! May his devious genius create an eternal deluge of distinguished and dandy devices for the betterment of all!'
'Here, here!' All agreed and clinked glasses, then returned to the business of feeding.
Once hunger pangs were sufficiently taken care of, the men slowed operations down a mite and began to lean back and nibble on cheese and nuts as they sipped the fine merlot.
'Now.'Jethro returned to earlier topics.'This methane you mentioned...'
Al grasped his hands before him, and leaned upon the table, eyeing his guests. 'Basically, a compound of carbon and hydrogen.
An inflammable gas. Derived from, you guessed it--manure.'
Jethro and Homer eyed one another. 'Hm. We've been considering much the same thing...There's but one problem, that we can see...'
Al waited.
Homer cracked a walnut. 'Well, it's like this...coal's on it's way out. And that's good. It's dirty, it's hell extracting the crap...'
'"...and it's dark as a dungeon way down in the mine..."'sang Jethro.
'Damn right.'Homer continued. 'But, what do we have replacing it?
Oil. And those ole robber barons are going to make sure we stick with it!'
Al and Jack looked at each other in turn. These boys had the right of it. 'That's what we're going to work on. Breaking the monopoly before it starts!' Al thumped the table with his hands as he stood and gestured the men into the parlor. 'Brandy, gents?'
. . . .
Emmeline hadn't seen much of Jack that week. Yeats was taking her to and from work, when he wasn't staying at archives doing research himself. She was meditating on recent events pensively as she took her parasol and headed out for a lunch-time stroll down to the docks by the river...where she probably shouldn't be, not many young ladies of good name would be seen here even at mid-day. She didn't care.Why should she be the only one doing what she was 'supposed' to do?It certainly seemed as though warnings never stopped others from doing just as they pleased...
Her meandering meditations were interrupted then by a shout from the river: 'Hey, Emmeline! Miss Page!'
Em shaded her eyes and gazed out over the river. It was Woody Marley! 'Woody!' She called back, waving, as she walked on down the gangway to the lower floating dock to meet him.
'Fancy seeing you here!' Woody observed, as he tied his barge up to the dock, with large crates and barrels stacked nearby. Now Em could see he wasn't alone, as Marco emerged from in back. Em recognized him as the guitar-playing comrade of Lev's.'Miss Page,
Emmeline! This here is Marco Rivera, my right-hand man!'
'Pleased to meet you, Marco!'Em shook his hand, 'You look familiar!'
Marco smiled a gentle secret smile. 'Miss Page.'
'Picking up some supplies here?' Em guessed.
'Yes, indeed!' Woody confirmed as Marco began loading the barge. Woody turned and pointed across the river and to the right. 'See that big oak tree there?' Em nodded. 'There's a dock in front and behind it, is the Leaping Lizard! Pretty darned convenient by river! Takes too long to bring a wagon down across the bridge...'
'That's great, Woody! Well, I won't keep you, you're busy and I must get back to work!'
Woody eyed her quizzically. 'Working...here?' he asked, wonderingly.
'Oh, well,'Em blushed to think she might have been thought to be eh, working the docks...'You see, I work at the library's archives building, just over there!' She turned and pointed back at the warehouses.
'Of course, Em!' Woody looked relieved. 'Well, you'll have to stop by my place sometime! We don't bite--usually!' he chuckled. 'I sure wish I could offer some enticement worthy of your consideration--say, how about just a one-time show? Tell you what, this coming Saturday night, I have a special band comin' in--Rob Williams and his Turlock Troubadors! It's gonna be a great show, Em! How'd you like to sing a song or two with ole Rob Williams, eh?'Woody grinned and wiggled his eyebrows encouragingly. 'Marco here will be joining them, too, he lives in Pankhurst. Wouldn't be a problem taking you across river and home again, eh Marco?'
'Be my pleasure,'Marco bowed ceremoniously.
'Oh, gosh, Woody!' Em had certainly heard of Rob Williams! Who hadn't? 'It does sound tempting! Imagine! Me, singing with Rob and the Turlock Troubadors!'
'Sounds like a 'yes' to me!' Woody declared.'Tell you what, Em...ole Marco here will come round for you Saturday about 6 pm then, how's that?'
'If you're sure, Marco, it'd be no trouble...?' Marco paused in his work, went to Emmeline and taking her hand, bent over it, his lips just brushing her glove. 'A caballero is never inconvenienced by escorting a lovely woman.'He looked into her eyes with dark intensity, then held her hand to his heart briefly before dropping his gaze and returning to his labors.
'Oh, my! Well! In that case, you have a deal, Woody! I'll be seeing you both come Saturday!' Emmeline said decisively, pleased with herself suddenly.The ferry horn blew then as it prepared to leave up river.'Oh, look at the time! There goes the ferry!
Must run! Good seeing you Woody, thanks! And nice to meet you, Marco!'
Woody waved her on as he helped Marco load up. Marco stood watching Emmeline as she went back up the gangway. When she got to the upper dock, she turned to see him, still standing watching her. He put a hand up to her. She waved back. Then, turning away from the river, she trotted back to archives. My, what an interesting day after all,Just think! Rob Williams! Perhaps she should do just as she pleased more often...most folks probably did.
. . . .
It was nearly closing time, and Yeats still hadn't arrived with the trap. Oh, well, it was a sunny day out, and sunset didn't arrive until after 6 nowadays...Em turned the CLOSED sign to the front and prepared to lock up, deciding to wait under the oak out side where there was a stone bench. Now where did she put her parasol?
A knock at the door interrupted her searching. Oh, please, not
Prude again! she begged...peeking through the eyehole. Surprised, she opened the door to find Marco Rivera bearing...
'My parasol!' Em exclaimed happily.
Marco smiled, handing Emmeline the missing accoutrement. 'You may be wanting this, I surmised. I was just en route home, I would be pleased to offer you a ride, perhaps?...it's on my way...assuming you are still at Alice's?' He gestured to his horse and cart which stood waiting.
'Oh, yes, Marco, I am! You remembered!' She smiled at him as they walked down the front steps. She blushed, recalling the day that
she, Lev, and Jack had the business there with the bike messenger...so long ago it seemed ages past now...She sighed...
then stopped in her tracks as she saw Prudence Knytt-Pickens heading just down the road from them, possibly en route here!
'Oh, no!' she said, quietly. Marco glanced to where she was watching the approaching cart. 'Perhaps I shall accept your kind offer of a lift after all!' Intuiting that the lady wished to escape post-haste, Marco handed her up onto the cart and leapt upon the driver's seat,'Vamanos, Mariposa!'he told his steed and they were off, spinning out of the drive and around the corner, passing Prude at a hot trot, leaving her in the dust.
'Whew!' Em opened her parasol.'"Butterfly", eh?'She smiled at Marco.
'She is swift,like the wind, and she is lovely, no?'Marco smiled back, gazing at Emmeline.
'That she is...Andalusian?'
Marco nodded. 'From the same stock as the Guevara's horses.'
Emmeline sighed, and allowed herself a sneak peek behind them, satisfied that Prude hadn't whipped up her team to overtake them.
'Thank you, Marco! You had truly rescued me from a horrendous fate back there! I can't imagine where my ride has gotten to! But, we shall meet up en route,no doubt.'
'Miss Page...'Marco began, 'Emmeline?' Em nodded. 'If I may ask...
have you any news of our comrade, Lev?'
Em looked at Marco. Well, if he was a friend of the Guevara's and Woody's...'I only know that he is safe, Marco.'
Marco seemed relieved, his shoulders relaxed a little. 'That is all I want to know.'He nodded ahead,'Could this be your ride?'
Indeed as Em narrowed her gaze, she perceived not Yeats but Jack driving Trotsky their way. Marco pulled up his Mariposa to a halt.
'Emmeline.'Jack nodded to her, slowing Trotsky as well.
Marco descended and held a hand out to Emmeline,'It has been my pleasure and privilege, Emmeline,' he said as he handed her down from one carriage and onto the other. With a courtly bow, he
alighted back onto his cart. 'Until Saturday night, then! Adios, Em!'
'Adiosa, Marco! See you soon!' Em called, 'And muchas gracias!'
Marco waved farewell as he clicked Mariposa into a trot on down the road. Emmeline folded her parasol and settled onto the seat, sitting rather farther apart from Jack than she had been with Marco.
'Yeats got tied up elsewhere. Sorry I'm late, Emmeline.'Jack said as they turned and drove on to town. Em didn't answer, she seemed to take an interest in all the scenery opposite of Jack Van Horn.
Jack sighed softly. 'Haven't met your, friend back there...looks familiar, though...'
'Yes.Marco Rivera. He plays guitar...and was at the hoe-down the other night. He was also one of Lev's comrades.'She allowed.
'That's where I've seen him!' Jack recalled. 'Yes...plays a nice Spanish-style flamenco guitar. Not bad.'
'Not bad at all,'Em agreed.
Jack looked at her sideways.'Well. I can see why you'd get tired of waiting and all...'
Wondering exactly what all that could mean, Em preferred to state only the obvious. 'I was waiting outside when I saw Knytt-Pickens heading my way--after closing! Marco showed up just in the nick of time...'
'Good for him.' Jack said. Then sighed, 'Look, Em...the other night...all we did, Homer and Jethro and Al, we just had a nice dinner and visit together. No bat bombs. Okay?'He craned a look over at her.
'I'm sure you can take care of yourself, Jack. It's certainly none of my business what all you do when I'm not about. And vice-versa,'Em added, meaningfully.
'Well, now...'Jack wasn't sure where this was going.'I just, want you to know...it was good for Aleister,'he continued, looking at the darkening road ahead, Marco and Mariposa long gone now.'He's like a new man now that he has some local folks he can bounce his ideas off of. A man needs friends occasionally.'
Em looked down,considering.'Of course he does...'she sighed softly. 'I wouldn't begrudge Aleister that! So...just a friendly get-together,eh? No sinister bat-fueled explosive plans in the works then?'
'I can honestly say, no! Nothing bat-fueled at all, Em!' Jack was glad she hadn't asked about methane, in particular. Or the good doctor's steam-machine...
'Hmmm...well, here we are then!'Emmeline gathered her things together. 'Oh, by the way! We'll be closed tomorrow, remember!'
Oy, Em thought... some scheme the mayor had cooked up. Would that guy ever get a clue?...people just need to get to work and school on time, forget the bloody ball park! Bread and circuses, only without the bread!
'I'd completely forgotten, Em! Well! Guess it's a short week for us then! So, any plans for the weekend...?' Jack thought he'd just ask...
'Oh, perhaps. I'll be doing my thing, singing for my supper, you know.'Em wasn't going to be more forthcoming with Jack than that. Two can play at this roundabout game, she thought.
'Uh-huh.'Jack peered at her. 'Well, don't tire yourself, Em.' He got up and helped her down from the seat, walking with her to the gate where they came to a stop, and she fiddled with the latch.
'You know...I painted the Indigo Room, a nice pale blue. I think you'd like it.' Em looked up at him then. 'And, I've started work on the opposite turret room. Going to make it into my practice and meditation room.'
'Practice...for what Jack?' Em asked, knowing the piano was downstairs in the parlor.
'Oriental martial arts. Yeats is my sensei.' Jack gazed at the last of the sunset in the west. 'It's about time I got serious about it again.I need the dicipline.' He looked intently at Em. 'Zazen, sitting meditation, is a good way to calm the spirit, give one grounding and focus.'
Emmeline was surprised to hear Jack talk this way. 'I'd like to see the rooms....when you're ready for nosey guests!' She smiled at him then.
A smile, at last! Thought Jack. Certainly took long enough...
He touched his hat to her, 'Well, Em...a good evening to you.
Keep that door locked now.' He shot her a meaningful look. 'You take care.'
'I will, Jack. You, too!'She called after him as he swung back up onto the driver's seat and clicked Trotsky into a brisk trot homeward.
At last, Em unlatched the gate and bent to pat her canine comrades as they all headed up the walk to Alice's door. My, what an eventful week it had been! And it wasn't over yet, she reminded herself...
'Anything can happen, at any time!' She wisely counseled Mac and Frida, as they headed inside, and Em locked the door behind them.
. . . .
Tonight's menu: Tamale Pie with Bob *Jack Fate*
Dylan's 'Simple Twist of Fate'
He hears the ticking of the clock
Walks along with a parrot that talks
Hunts her down by the waterfront docks
where the sailors all come in
maybe she'll pick him out again
how long
must he wait?
One more time
for a simple twist of fate...'
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