Chapter 7:'"Mama said, 'Don't Go Near That River!'"

Chapter 7:'"Mama said, 'Don't Go Near That River!'"
Free on a Friday! Emmeline felt like a school kid playing hooky.
These pesky politicians were a problem, but she was thankful they gave her an inadvertent day off...
And it looked to be another fine day. Em sighed. When WOULD we ever get rain? she wondered...Well, as she had to head to town for some things, she didn't begrudge the weather today at least. And, as it was so nice, she thought she would walk there. She was thinking about getting herself a bicycle and wanted to check them out in town.
Leaving her parasol, she took her straw hat instead, just in case she did find a bike and would be riding home. Wouldn't that be fun?!Let's see...her reticule she could tie onto the handlebars, or her belt...Well, she could also just get a basket for the bike, come to think of it...
Musing on such happy plans, Em soon reached town before she knew it.Well, if I do find a bike, I'll have to just head home with it, so I'll look around a bit, and pick it up before I head back if I find one I like...
Hours later found her at the hardware store, looking at a nice blue ladies' bike. She asked permission to try it out and taking a spin around the block, found it just to her liking. Why hadn't I gotten a bike sooner? Em thought. It was like flying...she recalled biking in her childhood days. Now that was fun! Emmeline resolved to do more things just because she wanted to. She paid for the bicycle, and got a nice straw basket that she affixed to the handlebars. There! Ready for anything now!
Em felt like celebrating. Asking if she could leave the bike awhile and pick it up in plenty of time before closing, she decided to head to the Teacup Cafe for a pick-me-up cuppa as a treat. Also buying a lock and chain for the bike, as the proprietor suggested, should she wish to lock it up while in town later, she then headed out to the cafe.
She hadn't been there since she and Alice were last together at their table for tea... But the hope of seeing Alice soon cheered Em anew.
The cafe was crowded for a weekday. Em perused the pastry counter debating just how much she wanted to celebrate...was a cream puff really worth the calories? How far would she have to bike to work that cream puff off, then? Hmm...Good thing Alice wasn't here with her today, she thought! Haven't heard such a crowd yakking it up in here in some time, we probably couldn't have a decent conversation just betwixt ourselves. Maybe I have been away awhile...possibly the cafe has just gotten this busy nowadays.
Edging closer to the counter to place her order at last, Em could single out a voice that seemed somehow familiar. Although evesdropping wasn't something she cared to indulge in, she could hardly help it, here. '...and I heard that she was seen tramping about down at the docks! In broad daylight, mind you!'
That voice! Em recognized it now. Halfwaffle! Damn, was she loose on a Friday as well? Oh, bugger all, she thought with distaste, borrowing a phrase from the Captain. I hope I can just get my tea and sneak back around the other side of the cafe and hide out 'til she leaves...That was her plan, at least...she crept up to the counter and quietly ordered tea and a Russian Tea Cake. So far, so good. She couldn't see Halfwaffle, seated around the corner and so figured neither had she, herself been seen.
'Is that right!?'Another familiar voice answered. 'Well! Just wait til you hear this! I happened to see her, driving off at night, with a...rather FOREIGN gentleman! Heading away from the docks! JUST the TWO of them, mind!Oh, yes indeed!' Em knew that vicious voice as well, it could only be Prude!
'FOREIGN, eh? A rather...Latin-type? The demimonde...It just figures!'Halfwaffle dripped vitriol with every word. 'Well, she won't be dragging down the rest of us along with her, I'll see to that!'
'Your tea, Miss!' Em was startled to see her tea tray arrive. Paying for it, she took her tray around the corner to a back table. Much quieter here.
So...Prude and Halfwaffle, on the warpath! Bring it on, thought Em. If it's a battle they want, well... Em bit into her cookie in earnest. Well, what, Em? You'll threaten them with City Hall?
After narrowly escaping implication in a jail-break of late? Em sighed...that took the air out of her. Oh, dear...a tyre pump! She'd also be needing that...Oh, blast! Here comes the decrepit duo of defamation now...Em knocked a knife from the table and bent to pick it up, taking her time as the duenna duchesses of drivel made their exit.
Em sighed as she straightened up, and poured more Earl Grey. Well!
Suppose it's possible that they weren't speaking of her... Em made a face. Right...She glanced about though. No one seemed to be paying her any mind. Small minds in a small town...maybe folks were used to Prude and Halfwaffle getting up in everyone else's business and simply ignored it. That's what she should do, as well.
Pedal on, Em! She told herself as she polished off her tea. You have an entire tea cake to work off now! Avanti!
                               . . . .
Em was flying downhill en route to Elm Street and home to Alice's when, feeling free, she slowed only slightly and put her boot down to help her turn a sharp corner, spraying dirt. Em grinned and was
enjoying every minute. Should've gotten a bike long ago!
Humming to herself as she pedalled home, she was feeling 10 years old and be-pigtailed again. 'oobla di, oobla da, life goes on, braaa! la la la la blah blah blah!' She couldn't recall all the silly words...
'Wuf! to you two too!' Em sang out to Mac and Frida then, home at last. She was patting her pals when of all people, Jack came trotting up on Trotsky.
Jack was frowning. 'I saw you Em, coming down that hill! You could've broken your neck, girl!'
'Oh Jack! I was not going at all fast! How do you like her? Ain't it cool?' Em beamed, all red hair and freckles.
'Ain't it cool!!' Jack dismounted, tying Trotsky. 'Em, look at me, dear.'
Jack seemed serious. Emmeline looked up into his blue-grey gaze. His eyes looked like San Pedro Bay, she thought...
Jack was nodding. 'The chip. They do this sometimes.'He sighed.
'It's...a glitch Em.'
'A glitch. Ah.'
'In my time...may we sit on the porch Em? I'll take your bike.'
He held out a hand. 'Nice bike.'
Em smiled and relinquished...what should she name her? Her bike will whisper her name to her soon...
They sat on the porch swing, at sunset. Jack leaned the gleaming new blue bike on the railing. 'How about Blue?' He said, grinning.
'How did you know I was thinking of a name for her?' Em smiled lazily, rocking with one foot.'Hm. I like Blue...'
'Em...' Jack toyed with his hat in hand, and sighed. 'There's a thing about time travel. Back in my time, getting chipped is nothing, it's like an ID card or passport...but, with time travel, the chips can cause...glitches.' he looked at her.
'Haven't the foggiest, old boy!' Em looked back at him.
'Ok. Em, it's like this...for time travelers, like myself, and Al, once you reach our time period, 2076, you are automatically chipped. Even when you return to your own time, you are still chipped. It just means...sometimes...you speak, think, interact socially in a different time frame. Al and I have had this problem here, only backwards. See?'
Em shook her head. She looked sideways at her new bike. 'Blue, yeah Blue...I love you...lil Blue...'She popped up from the swing and grabbed Jack's hand. 'Oh, Jack! You must teach me that song you were playing last time you were here! I can't get it out of my mind! You know, the polka, OOObla di OOObla da! C'mon, Jack!'...Emmeline was acting like a young lady of 26 years of age in 2076...
Jack didn't much like it.A good thing a glitch was only temporary. Jack really didn't get along all that well with most young ladies in his time period and culture. One reason why he loved to travel so much...well, I'll help her ride this thing out I guess.
It was after all, all his fault. Merde...
                             . . .
.
Saturday night at long last found Jack at home just polishing off dinner,'after a day of sanding the woodfloor of his practice room, when he heard heavy hoofbeats outside. Who ever would be coming all the way out here, Jack mused...we rarely have visitors at the end of the lane unless they're lost...
Jack went to the door and opened it. In the waning light he made out a large wagon and heard Homer and Jethro singing as they pulled up in the yard. A smile on his face, Jack headed outdoors to meet them.
'Get your dancin' shoes on, Jacky-blue!'Homer yelled down to him. 'We're goin' to town!'
'Is that right? You boys care to fill me in on what I'm supposed to be doing now?'
'Well, it's like this...'Jethro added, 'You want to hear some REAL music, come with us!'
'Rob William's in town, Jack!' Homer beamed, 'You know, and the Turlock Troubadors! Big-time band, Jack. Where you been?'
'Well, I admit I have been a mite out of touch, with travelin'around so much...'Jack allowed. 'Good band, eh?'
'The best in these parts,'Jethro encouraged,'Bring the doc, too! Where is he, anyhow?'
'Tie up a minute, boys, and come in!You might have to help me wrestle Al
out of his lab. Give us time to get dressed, then!' And Jack and 'the boys' went inside to fetch Parsons...
                                    . . ..
'On the road again! I just can't wait to get on the road again!' Jack had taught the boys the ole road song which Al already knew well, and all sang
lustily as the wagon headed to town. Stopping at a crossroads before they got into the thick of city streets, they turned the wagon left and headed to the old Freestone Bridge which would take them across the river into West Pankhurst.
'So, you boys all familiar with Woody's place, I take it?' Jack asked, trying to keep his hat on his head in the bone-jarring ride over the wooden bridge.
'Oh, sure...'Homer answered, urging the team on despite their echoing hoofbeats on the wooden planks.'That ole place has been there a looong time, even before Woody got it. It used to be an old roadhouse and was well-known as a place to raise holy hell on a Saturday night...'
'...Hell, ANY night!'Jethro chimed in. 'Yeah, lotsa stabbin's and shootin's and bad poker games, had faro in the back room, dice...and the usual bad hombres comin' and goin'...not to mention love for hire...'
'Is that so...? Woody had asked if I'd like to play there some time!'Jack
was re-thinking that invitation in a new light now.
'Course that's all gone now! --Mostly.'Jethro allowed. 'Ah, don't fret, Jack, it's just a 'Tavern In the Town' now. Mostly locals there now, no ramblin' gamblin' men, not so much anyway...' Jethro sighed...'The days of opium dens along the river are long gone, I fear.'
Jack laughed. 'You sound regretful, Jethro!'
'Maybe a little. Oh, not really...too many people had lives ruined from the stuff. You can get hooked, if you're not careful. Just see what it did to the English! That's what they get for what they made of China! Ruined alot of lives, families, in both sides there. But, there used to be an ole Chinese guy...name escapes me now,'he winked,'I'd get the stuff from occasionally.' He put his hands up as if in denial already,'Just for medicinal purposes! And for some...botany experiments...trying to isolate
alkaloids...just out of curiousity. Wonder why some folks get addicted and some don't. Maybe...make a pain-killer that's non-addictive, somehow.'
Before Jack could pursue this topic, Homer added,'Yeah, West Pankhurst had that reputation all over. A place to go raise hell on Saturday, then come back across the river and go to church with the missus on Sunday. Used to be an old sayin','what happens in West Pank, stays in West Pank!'
Jack and Al laughed hard at that. Jethro pointed along the river road,'See, at the bend up ahead, where the road turns and heads to the left? Well, that big ole barn of a place on the riverside, that's Woody's!'
Indeed, as they came closer there was no mistaking where the action was, as it were. Quite the crowd here apparently, to judge from all the horses, wagons, bicycles and groups of folk outside smoking, talking and laughing. Lanterns hung from posts and trees, and music was echoing all around and down off the river.
'Bet you can hear this place pretty well from Pankhurst proper, at least in the old warehouse district!' Aleister exclaimed, smiling at Jack.
'Ohhh, yeah!'Homer agreed,'Whoooaaah there, Team, Hooooh!'And pulling up the wagon around back of the 'Lizard, Homer and Jethro proceeded to unhitch the team. Jethro regarded Jack,'Since we know ole Woody pretty well, he lets us stable Lulu and Scotty here at his livery,'he nodded at the low mews across the way.'We like our ponies to be comfortable!'
Ponies, indeed! Jack thought. A good thing these fellahs had alot of acreage of grass to feed these heavy haulers at home!
'You and Al head on in and say hi to Woody. The band we came to see isn't playing yet.' Homer nodded, 'You'll know it when they are! We'll catch up in a bit!'
                               . . . .
Aleister and Jack headed around the...front? they guessed. Hard to tell...
They sortof made a half-circle around the place, seeking an entrance...at last a crowd opened a door allowing light, smoke and noise to lead them inside...
The place was packed! No wonder people were grouped outside..'I guess finding a place to sit is out!' Al mused.'Let's try to find the bar at least, Jack.'
The men sidled through the masses of Pank's Party Animals of the Olde West in search of libations. Folk of every sort here...ranchers and farmers, dockyard workers looking like they just stopped in after work,all still in their dungarees and workboots, ladies in fine dresses...('slumming' the friends surmised...), gentlemen in old-fashioned frock coats and wide-brimmed hats, still sporting the airs of professional gamblers, groups of men in Mexican sombreros, and just folks, like themselves,including couples on the dance floor as a trio of fiddle, guitar and accordion played a polka.
The place smelled of straw, cigar smoke and beer, both old and new...and fried onions...'Smells like a county fair, eh, Jack? What could they be cooking up in here?'Aleister followed his nose and at last found the bar.
Al peered at a chalkboard menu: 'Fried Taters! Fried Sweet Taters! Fried Yams! Indian Fry Bread!Fried Catfish! Fried Onion Rings!--hmmm, I might give those a try!'
'As long as it doesn't run away, it'll get fried here, looks like,'Jack grinned. 'Get us a couple beers, Al!' Jack handed him some cash.'I'll be just over there!' He pointed to a space somewhat cleared of the mass of bodies pressed against the long bar which curved around in a U-shape.
Aleister eventually made his way to Jack's side with two bottles of Buffalo Beer and a newspaper full of hot, greasy onion rings,which Jack had to admit, smelled pretty good...The friends leaned up against the wall to the side of the bar, munching rings and sipping the good local brew, when Jack saw a familiar figure emerge from a room in back of the bar near them,'Woody! Hey, Woody, over here! It's Jack!'
Woody peered thru the smoky haze toward them. 'Jack! Hey!' He ambled over
their way. 'Glad you could make it! Great night to be here! Just you wait til ole Rob Williams and his boys get here!'
'Looks like you have a good crowd here tonight, Woody!'
Marley nodded. 'Oh, sure. It's pretty much like this every weekend though, Jack! Business is good! Alot to keep up with, but, I have a good crew...'He nodded at his bartenders and big guys hanging around the exits who Jack had surmised to be highbinders or bouncers,
'Good beer!' Jack said, 'Oh, Woody, like you to meet my podner, Doctor Parsons!'
 The two shook hands. 'Aleister Parsons, good to meet you!'
Woody smiled and nodded.' We came here with Homer and Jethro! Any sign of them, yet, Jack?'
Woody peered over the crowd. 'Could be them coming in now! Well, gotta hustle! You boys enjoy! Be sure to stick around for the headliners!' And with a wave, Marley bustled off toward the stage at the far end.
'Well, knowing our two jack-mashers, they'll be headed toward the bar  soon enough!'Jack commented.'Best just wait here.'
He was proven correct as Homer and Jethro made their way through the crowd, getting and giving handshakes and backslaps, and even kisses, Jack noted, en route their way. When they were within sighting distance, he signaled them over.
'All secure?' Aleister asked, proffering the onion rings, which were eagerly accepted, except by Jack.'One is plenty for me, Al!'
'These'll go down better with beer! First round's on me,'And Aleister bellied-up once more.
'Quite a crowd, boys! Any chance of getting a seat of some sort?' Jack had had a long day already working on the house. Homer and Jethro seemed nonplussed, however, and gazed over the crowd.
'Wait til the doc gets back with our...medicine...'Jethro munched an onion ring contemplatively. Soon Al returned with bottles four, and 'Follow us!'
Jethro took matters in hand and Jack and Al fell into step behind Homer with Jethro in the lead.
Jethro nodded to the band and he and Homer went in back of the stage and lifted out a wooden bench and carried it stage-side, 'Please be seated, gents!' Homer suited action to words and plopped his formidable self down with a sigh. The rest followed suit, and now Jethro was dragging out a small crate which he overturned before them for a table.
'Great spot, boys! Thanks!'Jack said appreciatively. 'I can tell you have both been here a time or two!' He took a long sip of the amber brew.
'Best seat in the house!'Homer sang out. 'And not a moment too soon, I'm thinkin'!' He nodded to the other end of the stage as several men in tall Stetsons began to file in, carrying various cases in different shapes and sizes.
'Quite a good-sized band!' Jack observed as the trio onstage finished up their last song to applause and whistles and the dance floor cleared while everybody headed to the bar whilst Rob William's band set up.'Which one is Williams?' Jack asked Jethro.
'Just look for a big ole Boss Of The Plains, that'll be him...'Jethro answered. 'Say, Homer, you feel like some coffee yet?'
Jack looked quizzically at Homer. 'Sure, sure, I could use some coffee...'
Jethro stood, 'Next round's on me boys. And I'll bring some coffee, too.'
He headed off purposefully toward the bar. Catching Jacks' eye, Homer opened his coat and winked. Had a nice flat silver flask in his pocket.
He closed his coat. '8-Ball in Inside Pocket!' He commented. 'Keeps the chill off...ok, see that man there with a hat tall as himself, with the fiddle-case? That there'd be ole Rob.'Homer leaned back. 'No one can touch his band for miles. Ole Stoneman's the best fiddler we have here locally, but, these boys...just you wait and see! They've got something special!'
Jack counted...six, seven, no eight fellas up there altogether. Horn-players too! That's ten...man!Jack was glad he came and had started to get a second wind.
Jethro returned bearing four Buffalos and had a pretty gal following him with a tray upon which sat an enamel drip-coffee pot and four cups. This she set down on the crate which the men had cleared off for her and set their empties on the tray to go, removing the pot and pouring coffee all round. Jethro bussed her a kiss on the cheek, 'Thanks, Sugar! You save a dance for me later, hear?!' She winked saucilly his way and headed on back to the bar, Jethro eyeing her as she went.
Woody Marley made his appearance onstage then. 'Everybody happy?' He enquired, to an overwhelmingly positive response of yells, whooo-hooo's, whistles and applause.'Well, alright then!Without further ado, let's give a warm Pankhurst welcome to none other than, the one, the only--Rob Williams and his Turlock Troubadors!'
Amid whoops and hollers, Rob and his boys broke into an eye-popping rendition of 'Foggy Mountain Breakdown' the banjo players duelling it out double-time! Jack about lost his mind watching their fingers fly over the frets...damn! He felt like giving up guitar for good now,yipes...these ole boys must have done their teething on steel strings...he only vaguely was aware of Homer sliding some jack into his coffee cup, which he acknowledged with a smile. Things just seemed to blend into a haze after that, of finger-picking pandemonium, dancers swirling in skirt-swishing and boot-stomping sensation and musicians making music like Jack had only
heard in his dreams...
The evening wore on and Jack and Al were both feeling pretty mellow by intermission time. Al had even joined Homer and Jethro on the dance floor when Homer traded his galpal partner to Al for a polka...Jack felt fine just sitting where he was though, watching the action onstage. After the band had refreshed themselves, he noted a familiar face heading up on stage with them;Jack had seen that guy before...yeah, at the hoedown, and in the wagon with Lev that one day...oh, yes...and he'd given Em a ride home as well...hmmm.
He was further amazed to see someone even more familiar to him onstage now. 'Emmeline?' He sat up and stared dumbfounded.
'Well, would you look at that!'Jethro commented. 'Ole Woody managed to get her out here after all!'
Woody was stage-front then, nodding to the band, and then turned to face the crowd, holding an arm out toward the assembled musicians, 'A special treat tonight folks! Pankhurst's own will be joining Rob and the Boys! Ladies and Gents! May I present Miss Emmeline Page with Senor Marco Rivera on guitar! Once again--Rob Williams and His Turlock Troubadors!  Take it away!'Woody led the applause as he leapt from the stage and the crowd joined in with 'Viva, Marco!' and 'Sing it, Em!' As the clapping and whistles died down abit, Em turned to Rob. 'Do you know 'Catfish John'?'
'Why, Miss Emmeline, I could play it in my sleep. 'Catfish John' boys!'And as Marco took the lead guitar, the banjo chimed in right on time.
Emmeline stepped to the front of the stage:
'Mama said, 'Don't go near that river!
 Don't be hangin' round ole Catfish John!'
Come the morning, I'd always be there!
Walking in his footsteps in the sweet Delta dawn...'
'Whooo-hooo! Yeah, Em!' Jethro clapped in time to the music and winked at Jack, who still sat gazing at Em as though she'd popped out of a top hat.
He simply couldn't believe it...Emmeline. 'Live at the Leaping Lizard!'
Oy.
'Born a slave in the town of Pankhurst,
Traded for a chestnut mare,
He never spoke a word in anger,
though his load was hard to bear...'
    'Mama said, 'Don't go near that river...'
Em sang sweetly on, as couples took turns on the dancefloor. Smiles on the faces of the crowd, some looking wistful, all were enchanted. It was a pretty tune, and sometimes rather sad, but it was a perfect song for Woody's place; a river song and a Delta song, and Em had certainly been warned away from the riverside herself, times enough...
Jack watched her singing to the crowd, gently swaying in time to the music, Sitting off to one side as they were, she didn't notice him there...she did look at Marco and smile occasionally, though, Jack saw.
She had a sweet voice, he knew...and watching her up onstage then, somehow Jack felt removed from the scene...as though he was just part of the woodwork or watching it all through a window from outside.
Al looked at Jack then, noting his quiet demeanor. 'She sings a treat, Jack, don't you think?' Jack sighed then. 'That she does, Al.' What more could he say? That he'd no idea she would be here? That he'd no idea she was...with Marco? Jack wasn't sure what was happening...only that he was obviously not a part of it.
Jack didn't even notice that the song had ended, only that folks were whistling and applauding and Em had exited the stage, leaving Marco to play on with the band. Jethro had gone up to find her and say a word to her...he noted they were talking on the opposite stage-side.'Back in awhile,'Jack told Al and he took himself off...he felt adrift and had no idea what he could say to her.
Maybe...Jack thought...it just may be...that Al wasn't the only lonely one. Maybe he'd lost Em,Jack mused, without ever really having found her.
                            . . . . .
Outside, Jack took in a lungfull of clear air. Good to be out here and away from the smoke for awhile, he thought. He wandered around the Lizard, kicking horse biscuits and not really thinking of anything...just feeling like his stomach had fallen down to his toes for some reason...
Jethro found Jack leaning on the fence railing, overlooking the river.
'Nice air out here,'he said.'No stars out, gettin cloudy. Seems like they're smaller here in town anyway.' He looked at Jack. 'Say, Jack, we're all having a turn or two onstage with ole Rob there! You oughta join us!'
'Oh, Jethro, I'm not suchamuch. Didn't bring my guitar anyway...'Jack demurred.
'Heck, don't matter...we're all using each other's,c'mon Jack.' He handed him the flask. 'Em knows you're here. She's asking about you.'
'Hm.'Jack took a nip. And another.'Is she now.'
'C'mon...'Jethro slapped Jack's back, and started walking. Stopped. Looked at him. Jack followed, half-heartedly.
                                . . . . .
When they returned to the Lizard, it was Leaping indeed. The band was barely fitting onstage there were so many 'guest musicians'--locals who had been invited on up to play with Rob. He was famous for making the local musicians feel at home and it was one reason folks liked him so much wherever he went. Woody had rolled his old piano up onstage as well and was ripping out a ragtime tune with the band. Various instruments had been rustled up and Aleister was even keeping rhythm on a washboard. Jack had to smile at that. Homer had brought his guitar and was merrily riffing away somehow keeping time even after all that beer and jack. Well, it was strong coffee, Jack had to admit...a good thing, too. And, he noticed, Marco was onstage but Emmeline was not. Jack saw then that she was seated on their bench talking with Sugar, the waitress, who was taking a break.
The song ended as Jack and Jethro came up stageside and joined in the applause. Woody saw Jack and motioned him up to the piano. 'Play something slow, Jack! These folks out there need to cool down some, ok?'
Jack felt himself shoved up onstage by Jethro and Woody grabbed his arm and sat him down on the piano bench, then turned to the crowd below.
'Time for a little belly-rubbing, folks! And along with Rob Williams and his Boys, and various local rascals here!' (whoops and hollers from audience and friends of said rascals)'we're introducing Mr. Jack Van Horn, on the piano!Let's give him a warm welcome, then!' Woody again led the applause as he swung down offstage and joined Em , Sugar and Jethro on the bench.
'Here's a low and slow river tune for you all, called 'Lowlands,''Jack nodded to the band and began playing...
'I'm headed for the lowlands,
won't you please direct my way?
Train is leaving shortly,
There's no time for delay.
She told me she'd be waiting.
I'm not so sure she is.
I heard that there's another man
Who claims that she is his...'
Jack looked at Em then who, he noticed, had moved over to his side of the stage and was watching intently.
'Lowlands were my home,
When I was but a child,
They will be my deathbed
When I've passed my time...'
'I remember one summer day, the clouds began to build
We gathered the cattle up that had scattered in the field.
'It started in to rain and continued several days
The river overflowed and The crops all went to waste...'
'You know that I'm no failure
Though my victories are few
I'm tryin' to do my best here
But there's just so much to do...
Lowlands were my home...when I was but a child...'
Jack left off singing then, and just played the lovely melody,
someone had given Jethro a mandolin and he stood next to Jack and
played those sweet,high, plaintive notes that complemented 
a ballad so well. Couples swayed around the dance floor and some
were gliding off into darkened corners...The song ended to applause
and then suddenly the outside door burst open and a group of wringing wet people came tearing in, whooping and hollering!
'It's raining! It's raining! The drought's over! RAIN AT LAST!!
Whoo-hoo!'
People crowded outside to view this newest miracle. That Jack had been
able to play at all had been the first. He looked up and could hear hard rain falling on the rooftop.
Someone was sitting on the piano bench next to him. 'Hello, Jack.'
He nodded. ''lo Em.'
'You called down the rain,Jack.'She said, taking his hand.'The sky
itself couldn't help but weep at that old song...'
Jack smiled his woeful grin and stood. 'C'mon, Em, let's go see what rain looks like.'
                           . . . . . .
Jack and Em got a good soaking and then found it was a COLD rain...'Still Febuary I guess!' He said to her. Em laughed. 'I don't care! It's wonderful! I'm so glad we won't be baked dry this year!'
'HEYYYYY! Ain't y'all seen rain before?' It was Woody calling from the doorway. 'Git back in here! Y'all are gonna cause an epidemic in this county and I'll get the blame like I do for everything from mothers-in-law to moles!'
The crowd outside laughed, and noticed then that they were indeed wet and cold.
'Jack! Get your ivory-tinklin' butt back in here! I ain't done with you yet! Nor you, Miss Emmeline!'
Summarily summoned by His Highness of Hoedowns, the two returned running inside and the crowd followed.Rob and the Boys were taking a break what with all the rain ruckus and Woody was losing money if all his beer drinkers were outside wetting their whistles with rainwater...Well, ok then, they'd help heat the place back up, Jack decided...
Seated together at the piano bench, Jack looked at Em. 'You remember the chords and your part, yes? Got the words pretty much?'
Em smiled and nodded. She knew where they were headed.To her amazement, and Jack's, a tuba player joined them,and a mandolino with Jethro at the helm, and Homer and Marco on guitars.
'OK!'Jack yelled,'And a-one and a-two!'Bam-ba-ba-bam-ba-da-da-da-da-da-Dum, Ba-da-bum, Ba-da-bum...
'Desmond has a barrow in the marketplace!
Molly is a singer in a band!
Desmond says to Molly, girl I like your face!
And Molly says this, as she takes him, by the hand!'
Looking at each other, Em and Jack sang:
'Oobla di! Oobla da! Life goes on, braaa!
La la la, la, life goes on!'
                                . . . . .
D                  G
Mama said don't go near that river
D                                   A
Don't be hangin' around old catfish John
D                        G
But come the morning I'd always be there
D                           A           D
Walking in his footsteps in sweet delta dawn.

       G                    D
Born a slave in the town of Vicksburg
       G              D
Traded for a chestnut mare
   G                     D
He never spoke a word in anger
             A              D
Though his load was hard to bear.

D                  G
Mama said don't go near that river
D                                   A
Don't be hangin' around old catfish John
D                        G
But come the morning I'd always be there
D                           A           D
Walking in his footsteps in sweet delta dawn.

Guitar & fiddle solos: G | D | G | D | G | D | A | D

D       G                D
Catfish John was a river hobo
             G                 D
He lived and died on the river bend
         G              D
Thinkin' back I still remember
         A            D
I was proud to be his friend.

D                  G
Mama said don't go near that river
D                                   A
Don't be hangin' around old catfish John
D                        G
But come the morning I'd always be there
D                           A           D
Walking in his footsteps in sweet delta dawn.

Banjo and mandolin solos: G | D | G | D | G | D | A | D

D      G                D
Let me dream of another morning
      G             D
And a time so long ago
         G               D
When the sweet magnolias blossomed
                  A                 D
And the cotton fields were white as snow.

D                  G
Mama said don't go near that river
D                                   A
Don't be hangin' around old catfish John
D                        G
But come the morning I'd always be there
D                           A           D
Walking in his footsteps in sweet delta dawn.

D                    G
Come the morning I'd always be there
D                           A           D
Walking in his footsteps in sweet delta dawn.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0GfYV3db0aM


and dont miss: 'Jack's":  'Lowlands'

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d3Nl7DWIpL4
"The Lowlands"

I’m headed for the lowlands, would you, please, direct my way?
The train is leaving shortly, there’s no time for delay
She told me she’d be waiting, I’m not so sure she is
I heard that there’s another man who claims that she is his.

The lowlands were my home when I was but a child
They will be my deathbed when I’ve past my time.

I remember one summer day, the clouds began to build
We gathered the cattle that had scattered ‘cross the fields
Well, it started to rain and continued several days
The river overflowed and the crops all went to waste.

The lowlands were my home when I was but a child
They will be my deathbed when I’ve past my time.

You know that I’m no failure though my victories are few
I’m trying my best but there’s too much here to do
That girl I love once told me I made here feel secure
It’s hard to think I’ve been replaced., nothing does endure.

The lowlands were my home when I was but a child
They will be my deathbed when I’ve past my time.

Chapter 6: Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On

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...'

Chapter 5: To Absent Friends...

Emmeline stared across the table at Mr. Yeats. Oh, if only she could see Alice, and soon!She hadn't dared hope...
'Mr. Yeats...truly?'She reached a tentative hand toward him. Good old Yeats grasped it and patted her hand with avuncular affection.
'Yes, Emmeline, truly.'He made a move toward the teapot.'May I?'
'Of course, please do!' Em couldn't believe it! Alice! 'How, where,oh, Mr. Yeats...how shall we do this thing?' She whispered, leaning toward him.
Yeats poured more tea for Em and himself. Taking a sip first, he then asked, 'You still have the artefact?'
He must mean that white ovoid object that Flubber had pressed into her hand, just before Frank appeared...'Yes, I do. I've kept it safe. But, things have been so busy, I hadn't given it much thought...'Em realized now,that perhaps, she really should have.
'Yes.' Yeats said, as if reading her mind...'Keep it close, safe and hidden well! We shall need it to contact Alice quietly and safely. Frank, of course, must remain where he is, out of sight and secure.'
'Yes, of course!' Em couldn't believe it! Soon to see her dear old Alice...oh, so much she had been wishing to say to her...
'Well,' Yeats consulted his pocket watch vestside, 'I should be getting back. Take good care, my dear.' He stood, and Em followed. 'Needless to say, this is entre' nous, cher! Do not speak a word of our upcoming rendezvous with anyone, -- especially not Jack!' He looked down at her from above, eyebrows bristling like Mac cornering a gopher.
'No, no, indeed not!' She walked Yeats to the door, handing him his things. 'Any idea when we might be...'
Yeats put his hat on and pulling the brim down, regarded Em. 'Not yet. Must speak with Alice first. However--possibly, by this coming weekend sometime--perhaps! We shall see.' He smiled then, and suddenly his gruff and imposing manner gave way to boyish charm. How did he do that? she wondered...
Em smiled back and placed a hand upon his arm. 'Thank you so, Mr. Yeats, for the news! Oh, and the delicious cake!'
 He patted her hand. 'I shall keep you apprised, one way or another. Keep your watch dogs close! A good evening to you, Emmeline.' And off into the night Yeats's long shadow disappeared, as Em called her furry sentinels inside and closed the door. And made sure to lock it.
                               . . . . .
Meanwhile, back on Crowley Lane...Jack had put in another working Sunday, this time painting the Indigo Room. He'd mixed different colors of blue, lavender and white, to get just the right shade...he was thinking of the blue spotlight on Morgana's white Grecian gown in Orpheus...that sortof light blue that's only barely there,yet not pastel, but sortof glowing, somehow...
Satisfied with the start he'd made, he washed up and headed downstairs to find Aleister in the kitchen checking out the pots on the stove that Yeats had left stewing on low. 'What's for dinner, Al? I haven't eaten all day, I don't think!'
Al lifted an eyebrow Jack's way.'"All day"for you, began in the afternoon, dear boy,'he reminded him. 'Looks good though. Chilie of sorts! And this pan has rice and vegetables. There's some cornbread in the oven, too,' Al helped himself to all three. 'How goes the work upstairs?'
'Going well!' Jack dug into the ranchstyle tucker, and poured a glass of water, drinking it down. 'It's coming together faster than I thought. This old house has a firm foundation overall, no termites or rot. It won't be the onerous task that this restoration could have been. Let's head into the parlor fireside and eat, Al! Yeats isn't here to make growling noises about not properly dining at table!'
The men took their bowls into the parlor and sat in armchairs fireside, stretching their feet before them and relaxing in the glow of the embers.
'And how was your day, Al? You've been in the lab alot of late!'
'Ummmm,' Al growled around his cornbread. 'Yes, working on a thing or two...when I'm farther along on it, I'll demonstrate!'
They ate in silence awhile. Jack considered his friend then. Aleister really needed to get involved in something...take his mind from Alice...
And in fact, he'd probably love to meet Homer and Jethro!
'Ah, Al! You wouldn't believe what's going on in them thar hills!--or maybe you would, considering you and Flubber used to work together...'
'Eh, how's that, Jack?' Al slowed his spoon, taking in this new tack.
And Jack then proceeded to fill Parsons in on the bat cave, and H&J's guano bombs, not forgetting to mention the apple-jack enterprise as well.
Al laughed then, 'You don't say! Well, that's certainly true, what Homer said about the armies mining bat caves during the war. Both sides! The Union had the most money however...ah, what an ugly chapter in our countrys' history, that!...Slavery had to be abolished, of course. You would think it could come about without brothers warring against one another...or press-ganging immigrants into conscription!' Al looked at Jack then. 'You going to follow things up there? They invited you back for some 'demonstrations' was it?'
Ah, here we go, then, thought Jack. Got you hooked now, Al! 'I might! I'd certainly like to! If only to play some music with those two! Maybe get some pointers...my guitar playing leaves much to be desired...damn.'Jack shook his head. 'Yes, I just might head back up there sometime...although...' Jack recalled something Emmeline had said about, what was it, oh yeah...'although Em isn't keen on it, it seems...'
Al grinned,'Is that so? Did Jack overindulge in the applejack then?'
Jack finished off his chilie bowl. 'Not even. Seems she went to school with Jethro. She knows from bat bombs.'
'Ah!' Al set his bowl aside, leaning back. 'You see Jack! She does care for you, then.'
Jack frowned, trying to recall the events of Saturday evening. 'Possible, I suppose. Hope I didn't do anything to bugger it up already...' Jack seemed to recall...kissing her, somehow...? A kiss goodnight, that was it. Well, nothing wrong with that, he decided.
'Best let me go up first alone though Al. Just to get reacquainted, like.
But you'll like these fellas, indeed. More to them both than meets the eye!'
'Sounds good! I admit I get rather weary of Crowley House at times...'Al sighed, then went to the mantle to take a cigarillo. Striking up, he inhaled, then blew a satisfactory smoke ring. 'Where is old Yeats,tonight, I wonder?'
The two friends sat together absorbed in mellow after-dinner musings as Jack stoked the fire and meditated on his sensei, Yeats. It was an odd thing:trying to reconcile the man who had been his sensei, teaching him zazen, and martial arts, and doubling as chef and valet for many years...with the stunning revelation that he was the Head of their Order. Jack stared into the flames...he should return to his practice. It always helped to ground and center him, give him inner strenth and direction. He certainly needed that now.
He sat back down and regarded the doctor. 'I think I'll tackle the other turret room, while the blue room's paint dries. I believe I'll turn it into a meditation and practice room...since you have commandeered the basement for your lab!' Jack grinned.
'Good idea, Jack! Are you thinking of brushing up on your judo?'
'That. And other things. Have been wondering where to display my katana.'
Jack leaned back and stared into the fire again, letting his mind focus.'I need the dicipline. Of that, and zazen as well. I feel things have been spiralling out of control lately...know what I mean, Al?'
'Need you ask?' The pain on Al's unguarded features was obvious. He flicked his cigarillo into the fire. 'Well! I may ride into town with you tomorrow and look for some items at the hardware store I'll be wanting for my project.'
'I'll go with you Al, after we drop Em at work. I want to get more paint, sandpaper, a half-dozen other things...ah! That sounds like Yeats  now!' He glanced at the front door just as it opened to admit
Yeats outlined by the curtain of night behind him. 'Been busy?' Enquired Jack.
'Wouldn't you like to know?' Yeats countered, hanging his coat and hat in the hallway and turning on his heel, headed up to his chambers without another word.
'Typical.' Was Aleisters' comment.
                             . . . . .
The next day,having dropped Emmeline at the archives building, Jack and Al were happily perusing the labyrinthian innards of the hardware store and lumberyard not far from town proper it was. Al sorted through different brass fittings inside while Jack roamed the yard.
'Didn't hardly recognize you there, Jack, without that blue suit'n shoes!'
Jack wheeled around to behold Homer Simpson big as life. Maybe bigger.
'Well, Homer! Good to see you! Yeah, working on restoring the old Crowley place, you know...it's coming on, but, it'll be a long job, for sure. What brings you here?'
'Ask him--'Homer nodded over to the shop where Jack espied Jethro standing practically  back to back with Aleister in the pipe fittings. 'If this isn't a co-incidence! That's my friend Dr.Parsons I was telling you about there with Jethro!'
'Well about time they were acquainted with something other than each other's caboose, then!' Homer led the way back into the shop.'Say, Jethro!
Looky what I found in the woodpile!'
Jethro looked up from the pipe and his face broke into a rakish grin.'Say there Jack Shoes!'He looked down at Jack's boots.
'Nope, no party shoes today. Back to work for me. Say, I'm sure glad I ran into you two! This is my friend and partner in varied crimes, Dr. Aleister Parsons--allow me to introduce Homer Simpson and Jethro Bodine!'
'Pleased to meet you both, gentlemen!'...handshakes all around... 'Jack told me I'd missed quite a show last Saturday night!'
'Not bad! Not bad! Say Doc, Ole Jack here was braggin' something fierce about some sort of laboratory of yours there back at the ole Crowley place!' Homer ventured boldly to the point.
'Well, now...'Aleister smiled, gazing at the floor, 'It's in it's humble nascent phase still, but, I'd be happy to have fellow ah, tinkers! shall we say?--over for a gander sometime!'
'Tinkers!' Homer and Jethro looked at one another, smiling. 'I like that. Could be anything, eh? That's us. Eclectic Tinkering, Inc!' The men laughed.'Yep, that about covers it,'Jethro agreed.
'Why not tonight, Jack?'Al turned to his friend, who nodded. 'If you fellas would still be around later, come on by.'
'Stop on in, guys!'Jack enjoined.' Dinner, as well, what say? I should be home from work around 6ish.'
'Well, it just so happens...'Homer eyed Jethro, who nodded,'We do have business in town that will probably take all day. And dinner sounds good anytime! You have a deal.'
'Excellent. You know how to find the old Crowley place? Ok, anytime after 6 o'clock, then!' And Jack and Al bid 'later!' to Homer and Jethro, as they walked to the counter to place their orders.
'Well, now, if that isn't serendipidous!' commented Al.
'I hope Em thinks so...'Jack sighed. 'She's sure to find out we're all palling around, somehow.'
'And what if we are?' Al huffed. 'You needn't be a party to...all aspects of eclectic tinkering...' he smiled.
'True.'Jack agreed. 'I'm just getting music lessons. That's the truth, too, far as it goes...well, about time we drop this stuff off and round up something for dinner;either Yeats or I will return for Em later.' He eyed Parsons warily. 'I'll do the cooking, if Yeats isn't back yet. You can...tinker.'
'It's what I do best, Jack,' Parsons grinned.
                                 . . . . .
Meanwhile, back at the archives, although it was now near closing, Emmeline was still wrangling with the loathesome likes of Prudence Knytt-Pickens, (of the Boston Knytt-Pickenses),who had been taking her to task for some time now regarding the captions upon certain catalogued items...
'Just see here, Miss Page, this won't do at all! Look at the caption on this postal card: "Summertime boaters serenely sailing about Echo Lake"!
I ask you, Miss Page...' (Em thought that she certainly hadn't paused in her lengthy harangue to ask a thing, really),'IS this proper English? "serenely sailing?" Split infinitives, my dear! Split infinitives! And here in the library archives!'
Em couldn't help but recall the solstice show in the city when she and Alice had such fun and she passionately wished that the acrobatic-comedic troup of that appellation, (the'Split Infinitives!') were performing here at the archives, now at this very minute! Em brought a hand to her mouth, hiding a smile, but Prude, (as everyone called her), wasn't fooled and called her on it.
'Oh, you'll think it funny, missy! Just wait until I bring this up with your director! I'll have you know that my family has always generously supported...'(Em held her tongue, but could only hear blah, blah, blah after all that, and began to reshelve items and see to the closure of the building hoping that Prudence Pain-in-the-Pickens would at long last take the hint and leave...the clock read after 5 pm...where was her ride? thought Em desperately...)
'And another thing!--Oh!' Prudence paused in her puerile pontifications as
the door opened--at last!--and Jack entered. Sizing up the situation and having dealt with Knytt-Pickens before, Jack cut to the chase:'Miss Page, it's past closing time! Can't be heading into overtime territory, now! Ah, Mrs. Knytt-Pickens, please allow me!' And standing aside, Jack held the door open for her, 'Good day!' and ushering the headache in heinous haberdashery that was P.K.P. outofdoors, he shut the door behind her ample retreating form and turned the sign around on the door to read: CLOSED.
'Glad to see me, Em?' he asked.
'You! Are late!' Em smacked him, albeit gently, with her Courier,'But, oh, mercy, yes! Jack if you hadn't shown up when you did, I was close to doing the wicked wench some damage, so I would!'Em gathered her things together and locked up behind them, still smarting from the altercation. 'That woman never has a good word to say about anyone or anything!She lives to critisize.'
Jack handed Em up into the waiting trap, and took his driver's seat beside her. 'She must be...insecure, perhaps,'he ventured, generously.
Em looked at him as though he'd taken leave of all senses. 'Insecure! She's mean as a stomped snake! Let's make tracks, Jack!'
'Vamanos!' Jack clicked to Trotsky and they were off, leaving their headaches behind, they hoped.
                               . . . . .
'Well, home again, Em!'declared Jack, brightly as they pulled up to Alice's gate. Em gathered her bags and various items together, wishing she could tell Jack of Yeats's information and share her excitement at seeing Alice soon, but...of course, she couldn't do that. 'Got everything?' he
asked.
Em regarded Jack, who had been uncharacteristically quiet during the ride back. 'I think so...are you anxious to be off, Jack?' she intuited.
'Oh, you know...'Jack looked down, not so good at circumnavigating the truth, shall we say...'It's just, Aleister and I are, having a couple'a folks over for dinner tonight.'
This was news to Em. She didn't think that Al and Jack knew very many in town as yet. 'Oh? Indeed?'
'Yes. Well, you know Aleister...he's been rather down,what with Alice gone now.'He looked at Em.'He was growing quite fond of Alice, really...despite knowing that she and Frank, well...'Jack sighed. It was tricky.'Al has the utmost professional regard for Frank! We all do! But, he couldn't help...'
Em smiled. 'Jack, you needn't say a thing. No one can help but love Alice, whatever the circumstances! Of course he needs some...distractions!'
Distractions arrived then, as the couple soon noticed another cart come rattling past the corner, 'Whoaaah there, Lulu Belle, whooaah, Scotty! Say! If it isn't Jack and Miss Emmeline!'
Holy snakes indeed. Merde and tres' merde! thought Jack. It was Homer and Jethro...
Emmeline, all ingennuous, waved to them both. 'Hel-looo! Haven't seen you two in some...hours!' she kidded.
Homer hollered back,'Yep, we're just heading over to Jack's place there! Met up with him and his doctor partner here in town, invited us over to view their lab!'
'And, have dinner! Can't wait!' added Jethro, 'Let's get a-goin' Jack, I'm fair famished! You coming, Em?'
Emmeline looked daggers at Jack, but kept the smile on her face. 'Ohhh, no, not tonight I think! I have other plans.' Not waiting for Jack to help her down, she leapt from the trap as if it were aflame. 'You boys best be off now!'She waved them away.'Goodbye, Jack.' She said with finality and turned on her heel and stalked up her walkway, with Mac and Frida in tow.
'Oy, vey...'Jack moaned to himself.
                             . . . . .
,

Ch. 4 '"Anything Goes"'

'"Anything Goes"'
It was early Sunday a.m. or late Saturday night, however you want to see it, as a Party of Four in a Coach-and-Two, passed 'neath redwood and pine and a nightsky brilliant with iceripe stars and moonstripe shadows down the road en route to the dark bowl of a valley below.
Emmeline listened with half an ear to Jack's explanations of
peer pressure, wanting to be accepted by Em's friends and oh what the heck... he soon gave up:
'Em...it was all an act.' Jack appeared as though he'd been caught holding a sacred relic of Solomon's temple. Still stoically staring downwards, he admitted,'We thought it best to be seen celebrating Dionysian delights than... something altogether other .'
The cart rattled down the hill aways, whilst Emmeline stared hard at Jack.
'...Oh no. He didn't...' Em frowned his way.
'What?'
'Jethro.' Em sighed, sat back and frowned at the night.
Jack figured Emmeline, being local, probably knew what was up in them thar hills...
Em sighed.Again. Hard.
'What!!??' Jack insisted.
'You KNOW what, Jack Van Horn!' Em sat up, grasping onto the cart which clattered down the mountainside, Leon and Ernestine silent and curious up front...'Just tell me that you won't go bat-bombing with Jethro and Homer!'
'...Homer and Jethro,'Jack insisted. Again.
Em raised brows rather librarianish in a 'I Do Not Believe This' sort of way.
'Ok, ok,' Jack took her hand. 'It's cold!' He rubbed it with his big gloved one. 'Better...?'
Em nodded. Not smiling.
'Emmeline! You don't seriously think there's any danger in
their backyard experiments!'
Em' s face went completely blank and she turned to face the road ahead.Alone. Yet another mad fool...
'Em...'Jack draped his cape about her back and enclosed them in his tweedy cocoon.'I'll keep an eye on THEM, ok? I'll be the voice of reason...'
Emmeline gazed at Jack as though he had suddenly appeared leprechanlike before her, perhaps foaming at the mouth and
scratching himself to boot.
Leon and Ernestine  smiled  1/4 moons at one another, listening to the banter behind them as the cart moved on down the hillside...They were coming down into the valley now and the odd palm made it's reappearance, a  sentinel sillouetted against cobalt infinity.
'We'll all be home soon...' Jack craned a glance around at Emmeline. 'It was great fun, Em. Thank you.'
Emmeline sighed.
'Oh, Em, come on!' Jack was exasperated. He'd only tried his darndest to fit in, do his part in the evenings' festivities....
'Jack.'Em looked ahead again, at that all familiar lonesome road. 'I forbid you to take part in Jethro and Homers' experiments! That's all there is to it!'
Jack opened his mouth wide, incredulousness flowing from every pore then.
'Ha!' he couldn't believe it. 'Em! You! You are ordering me, then, eh?'
Em just felt weary . 'Jack. Why would I wish to save you from bodily harm at the least and a nasty demise at worst?
Hmmm...let me think...' she pondered but briefly. 'At the moment, I can't really see clearly why I should bother.'
As they continued on down, the lights of town glowed in the distance ahead.
'It IS a small town, Jack.' Em just looked tired, and rather wistful. 'Did you truly think I didn't know Jethro and Homer, or their...various enterprises?' She shook her head slowly.'I went to school with Jethro.'
'Indeed?' Jack hadn't thought about it, but he now realized he should not be surprised.
'He was a year ahead of me. But...' Em looked down at the floorboards, then laughed quietly. 'As much as I cultivated an outlaw, loner image,,,the lads who held my eye had brains above all...and Jethro always engineered the most intriguing and innovative science projects;not to mention,the most explosive...'
'Batbombing one's way into a young girls' fancy...'This truth, Jack certainly understood. Although he realized as the cart rounded the many bends in the road, that it hadn't perhaps all been an act so far as inhabiting a rather applejack enhanced reality at present...'Understood.' Jack nodded, weaving abit.
Emmeline took his arm then. Oh, that Jethro! And Homer, who was like an uncle to him, should know better! Obviously, they've only expanded operations...Em would be having a little talk with her old pal Jethro. Soon.
'Em...'Jack ventured, quietly,'did you ever think that maybe,  you liked men like your father? Inventors and such?'
'No!' Em was insistent. 'Just the opposite! My father was cold and aloof. He certainly never encouraged either of his daughters to cultivate her brain! Amelie and myself were raised as pets, rather. He simply felt that we would no doubt 'make a good match' somehow, and settle into the usual familial situation...'Em now looked more than weary. 'Jethro has a sense of humor at least!' she smiled and shut her eyes as the cart swayed homeward.
'I don't know Em...perhaps you are more like the professor than you'd admit.'
Em merely yawned behind her glove, as they slowed to a walk now nearing city streets and cultivated tree-lined avenues....here they were, home again, nearly.
Ernestina turned around, looking meaningfully at Emmeline,  then nodded to Jack. 'Thank you for coming Jack. And it was such fun for Marta, Emmeline!' Her smile was returned by Em.
'Now! We will see much of you both, soon, no?'
'Yes, indeed!' and 'We'll see,' replied Jack and Em respectively as the carriage turned down Crowley Lane at last.
As they pulled up before the old house, Jack turned to Emmeline. 'It's been a wonderful evening Em.' He reached behind him and grabbed his guitar case, then took Emmeline's
chin in hand and turning her toward him, gave her a friendly kiss on the old smackeroo, just as playful as you please.
And it came to pass quickly and smoothly so it did and took Em quite by surprise,
'Gracias Leon, Miss Ernestine!' Jack took guitar case in hand, swung down from the cart and made a bow.'May we soon meet again! Oh, and Em,'Jack leaned toward her, keeping his voice low,'whenever you feel ill-disposed toward my untoward maneuverings at times, think of how I might be feeling now, regarding your concern over my safety and...'He paused, rubbing his chin in thought,'Forbidding, was it? Yes, "forbidding!",I believe,my further involvement with the bat-bomb business, am I right, Em?' He grinned up at her in the pale moonlight.'Forbidding, no less! I love it when you are masterful, darling!' Jack winked at an astonished Emmeline and took his leave up onto the veranda of the old haunted manse he called home.
'Well!'Em exclaimed.
                          . . . . .
Sunday afternoon found Emmeline slowly strolling home from her matinee gig at Pankhurst Inn playing for the luncheon
crowd and carrying cash-in-hand in her reticule, along with a doggy-bag in payment--'singing for my supper now!' she
mused, as she opened the sack and sniffed appreciatively, smiling to find several poppyseed rolls and a hunk of jack cheese which would go together nicely for her own repast.
She yawned then as she approached Alice's, although she had risen rather late (and just in time to make her gig!),having barely beaten the dawn coming home last night...she could still use a nap, she decided.
Mac and Frida had rushed to the gate wuffing and wagging their welcome as she neared.'Inside you two! Let us all have a nice quiet Sunday afternoon, yes?'She couldn't hope for anything more.
Inside, and having paused for a bite of cheese and roll, Em chewed thoughtfully as she looked down at Alices' bed which was positioned just right for catching afternoon sun in winter.
 Spreading the tartan plaid at the foot of the bed, she patted it and Mac and Frida sprang up and settled down against each other, a perfect yin/yang match together, of dark and light.
Em tossed her slippers off and took a book to lie down and read herself to sleep with, but lying there, her thoughts would drift from the page and she found herself gazing outside at the bare winter limbs of the backyard trees, now sporting the suggestion of buds, and thinking of last evening and the varied flashes of memories of the night before; some strange, some happy, some funny, and she had to admit, most were of Jack in one scene or another...she smiled and shook her head slowly, watching Mac watch her with his one eye lazily open still, shaded by his black brush of eyebrows...yes, she had to admit, that Jack had certainly made an impression upon folks. She recalled his climbing from the stage and dancing with young Marquita in her braids with red bows and how the little girl had blushed happily, and when he moved on to take a spin with old Ma Clampett, well that won everyone over right there.
...Almost everyone, Em reminded herself...ole J.George Bush Jr. wasn't having any Jack for any money, obviously. What was it about Jack that had irritated the lil' goofball so?, she wondered...and what was all that crazy business of calling Jack a gypsy?
Mac snuffled and hid his nose against Frida, inhaling and sighing then and snuggling into a contented furball, revelling in her scent. Emmeline recalled then how the evening had ended, and humphed to herself...say what he would, Mr. Van Horn was certainly not entirely sober then!, she soliloquized. Surely that jack was to blame for his rather impertinent actions, she decided, too tired to note the play on words. She lay her head down on the pillow then and wondered about all that...what sort of kiss was that, anyway? Like the kind young Jethro had stolen from her when they were kids maybe Marquita's age, back then.I'm hardly 7 years old now, Jack...wuf! Men!...she thought, and then at last, thoughts came and went like dandelion fluff in the wind and she joined her canine companeros in a dream-laden journey into the realm of Morpheus...
                          . . . . .
It was just sunset as Emmeline awoke, cold, to the sound of knocking and realized Mac and Frida had  exited the bedroom and were wuffing fixedly at the front door. What, now? She
was slowly waking from a deep and dazed dream, feet seeking slippers as she ran a hand through her hair and drinking from her water glass hard by, tried to awaken into some semblance of consciousness...
This, she had more or less succeeded in, yet upon reaching the door, she seemed rather amazed still to behold Mr. Yeats standing there, bearing a sack before him. 'Miss Page! You didn't know I was coming, so I baked a cake!' His lips formed an almost-smile. 'Good evening. Have I come at an inconvenient Time?'
She recovered herself then, and smiled. 'Not at all, sir!' She stood aside and swept an arm before her. 'Do come in!--and Macky--take Frida outside with you both!'
Taking Mr. Yeats's hat and coat, and cake!, she invited him into the kitchen, as it seemed all of her memories of being with this worthy gent always took place in that homey setting and was the proper place for them. 'I'll just start some tea.And what have we here then?'
'Oh, just a little spice cake I whipped up. With a wee dash of rum, I admit,'
'Lovely! Thank you!'Em gestured to the breakfast nook, 'Do have a seat, Mr. Yeats, please...'And stoking the fire, Em got the tea things ready thinking what a weekend of surprises this had turned out to be!
                           . . . .
Seated together at the little wooden blue table, Em handed the knife to Yeats. 'Would you do the honors, while I pour?'
Inhaling the hot Earl Grey, Em felt her spirits reviving abit and had to admit to feeling rather peckish as she eyed her slice of spice cake, dark with molasses and redolent of ginger and nutmeg.
The two companions sipped their tea contentedly as they watched the sunset from the kitchen window. 'You make the best spice cake!' Emmeline granted him. 'Just don't tell Alice I said so!'
Yeats set his teacup down in the saucer. 'Indeed. It is with news of that good lady that I have come to you tonight and beat so brazenly upon your door, my dear.' He looked up at her over the table, his tufted eyebrows reminding her of MacGregor then. 'I can assume that it is safe to talk here?'
My goodness! Curiouser and curiouser! thought Em. 'Oh, yes, safe as anywhere! Oh, Mr. Yeats--have you news of Alice, and Frank?' Despite her eagerness, she still kept her voice barely above a whisper.
'I do.' Yeats sat back against the bench seat. 'Alice wishes to see you, Emmeline.'He gazed at her with serious mien. 'And soon!'
                            . . . .
'May I just say before this record spins to a close...I just want you to know...Anything Goes...!'

Ch.3 Banjos, Bats, Biscuits & Bull

Ch.3 Banjos, Bats, Biscuits & Bull
Yeats chewed his biscuit methodically by the fire. Al and Jack waited, not so patiently.
'Good biscuit.' he said at last.
'Yeats, old man...please!'Al couldn't stand it anymore.
Yeats moved to the armchair across from them, and sighed heavily as he sat. He looked older to them suddenly; they noted rather a difference from his jaunty departure only weeks ago...
'Everyone is safe. Secure.' He nailed them with a look. 'That's enough for now. The less you know, the better for them, and for you.' He stretched his legs out and crossed them before him.
'That we can accept. But, what of Flubber?' Aleister was leaning forward now, rather a bristling look about himself for a change.
'What of him?' Yeats said dismissively.
Aleister reared back, hands upon his knees, chin tucked in like a bull about to charge. Jack noted this and said, 'Well, it's just that, you must admit, we've had reason to wonder about his recent involvment in things. Sir.' He added, wisely.
'Yesss...John...' Yeats breathed out, 'John is a wild card, admittedly. Much like the two of you!' He glanced their way.
'Sometimes...a wild card can tip a hand in one's favor. Like the Jack of Hearts.' He added enigmatically, staring again at the fire and drumming his fingers slowly...
Jack and Al looked at one another. Jack shrugged. 'Well, I'm off to bed, then! There's plenty of work to do here, now that I'm off work!' Jack sighed, giving Al a meaningful look.
'Been a long day, for me as well.'Al stood and followed Jack to the stairway. They both stopped a moment, and paused, hands resting on the bannister. 'Good to have you back, sir.' They said, truthfully.
Yeats just nodded, lost in thought.
                         . . . . .
The sun seemed to be heading lower rather quickly thought Jack...well I suppose that's what happens when you get to bed late and then arise late the next day...
Jack had just finished washing up after a day of clearing out the third floor of the house. He'd decided since Em was so all-fired enamoured of the turret rooms, he'd start a little preliminary work on the Indigo Room, as she called it.
He'd just shaved and was drying his hair, when he thought he heard hoofbeats coming up the drive. Flinging the towel around his shoulders, clad only in pants and braces,  he headed out on the porch.
Imagine his surprise to see a pair of black Andalusians round the corner bearing a cart with Emmeline and Ernestine with a gent Jack took to be Leon, Tina's brother driving.
Jack raised a hand in greeting. 'Well, now, Emmeline!' He inclined his head to Tina and Leon. 'How'do.'
'Jack!'Em piped up brightly. 'My friends, Ernestine and Leon Guevara,please meet my dear friend, Jack Van Horn! Rather more properly, this time,'she added, thinking of the last time they were there, after Lev's jailbreak.
Jack and Leon shook hands and he nodded to Tina, 'Miss Tina. Would you all care to come inside and...' Jack looked abit at loose ends, realizing he was 1/2 dressed, suddenly.
'Oh, Jack!' Em laughed lightly, 'You didn't forget the hoe-down tonight!'
He had.'No, not at all!' he lied quickly, 'I'm just washing up! I'll  throw some shoes and a shirt on, and we're on our way?' he asked, just to be sure.
'No hurry, Jack,'Leon assured him. 'Although it is up in the hills aways. Gets dark early there...'
Jack nodded and held up one finger, as he trotted back up the porch and inside,'Be right out!'
Tina glanced back at Em who had moved to the rear meanwhile.'Not bad, Em. Not bad at all!'She had been eyeing Jack's admirable
physique in all its' de-shirted glory.
'Tina!'Em's cheeks flamed, matching the sunset.
Jack appeared moments later, suited up for the evening in his blue serge, and carrying what looked like a guitar case,he swung himself up beside Emmeline in the back seat. 'I see you're ready for action, then, Jack!' she appraised him approvingly.
'Ah, well, you know, just in case!' he winked...'S'been awhile...'
'Thank you, Jack,' Em said.
'Hmm?'
'You know, for last night...I'm sorry I'd fallen asleep like that...it had been a long day, on top of a long week,'Em bit her lip, embarrassed.
'Oh, you know...it happens. I just made it home before dropping off myself! And guess who showed up, Em?--Yeats!'
To the excited exclamations and questions of Em and the Guevara's,Jack told them all he knew, which wasn't much. But it did quiet Em's anxiety level somewhat, just to have the assurrance of everyone's safety at last.
On they traveled, chatting about sundry topics, heading upwards into the woods.  It became hilly and the lane swerved around curves, switching this way and that. The  pastureland with occasional oak trees soon became rugged with manzanita and  pines. As the pine trees and redwoods became more numerous, the light dimmed and a cobalt blue sky showed navy about the edges as twilight crept in. Crickets and the occasional bullfrog's croak were heard accompanying the horses' plodding steps upward. Jack helped Emmeline slip her winter coat about her as nightfall settled on the Sierra foothills.
Soon, however, they thought they could detect sounds of more human origin and low strains of music on the wind. 'We must be getting close, now, Em!' Jack had gotten his second wind , with the cool of the evening refreshing his spirits anew.
Leon smiled and glanced back. 'Just around that next bend in the road!' he confirmed. And indeed, as they rounded the corner, the party came upon a hollow, a small valley really, nestled among the mountainside, with a creek flowing merrily throughout. Buckboards and wagons, mules and horses milled about the corrals and folks were gathering around a huge bonfire behind the house where long tables set round with benches bore evidence of a variety of potluck comestibles, including several pies Jack took note of, along with many jugs with mysterious contents...best make a wide berth around those, he told himself.
The night seemed to be settled in this one valley, at least it appeared darker here and the stars brighter and closer, against the light of the bonfire and the lanterns strewn among the trees. Music wafted along from the huge red barn aways from the
dining tables and Jack could make out several fiddles and guitars, banjos, and at least one mandolin...perhaps even a dulcimer. He grinned at Emmeline who smiled back, as he took his guitar and helped her from the cart. 'Welcome to our humble hoe-down, Massachusettes!' she said.
Jack helped Leon unhitch the horses as they would be there awhile. Jack ran his hands over their glossy black hides, admiringly. 'Beautiful pair,' he said appreciatively. Leon smiled. 'My beauties, my pride and joy!' As they each led a horse off to the corrals, Em and Tina unpacked their baskets from the cart and carried their offerings to the groaning boards,  greeting folk, catching up on news and stepping around the chickens and children running about the yard.
'It's wonderful that Alice and Lev are safely out of town and in a good place, Em, no?' Tina asked as they set out their casseroles and breads.'I have some good news for you as well! Guess who is here tonight? My momi, Marta! And she has brought some special herbs and elixers for you, too, especially!'
Em was delighted.'Oh, Tina! How marvellous! She is back from Oaxaca!?'
Tina nodded. 'She's probably in the house. Come on! The men can catch up with us later, no?' Em agreed enthusiastically as they headed off to the big red farm house with the large white veranda enclosing two sides, hospitably set with wicker chairs,settees and tables where groups were gathered, chatting amiably and sipping ice teas, old folks rocking in rockers, mothers soothing babies to sleep...
                              . . . . .
Not having had time to partake of dinner as yet, with Leon's help, Jack quickly found himself amongst the fried chicken, black-eyed peas, tamales, goulash, potatoes au gratin and 10 other ways, and of course, 'Sourdough biscuits!' he exclaimed, having a jones already from Friday night, so long ago now...he had moved onto sweet potato pie when he began to wonder where Emmeline had gone to.
'Oh, a man with an appetite! How novel!' a strange voice that cut like a whip sounded suddenly at his shoulder.
'Yes, ma'am, ah, miss!' Jack hastily swallowed the last of his pie, wiping his mouth w/a checked napkin. 'Hadn't eaten dinner as yet this evening.'He quickly took stock of the situation, wondering again of Em's whereabouts.' Jack Van Horn, and...?'
'This is my daughter,Ayn ' suddenly a formidable woman loomed behind said offspring; wearing acres of some flowered cotton dress yet looking enough like the daughter that Jack didn't doubt her words. Here indeed,the future looked grim. 'Ayn Rand. I'm Mrs. Rand.'
Jack looked around him. Where the hell was Leon?
And then, behind him--'Jack! Grab your guitar! We're cookin' muchacho!' Leon at last! There IS a goddess, thought Jack as he nodded briefly to the Rand trap and made his escape...
                                . . . . .
Jack stepped into the barn as if into another world: it was a miniature Grand Ole Opry, he thought...as they were greeted by a wall of sound echoing with stomping feet, clapping hands, whoops and hollers, all amplified nicely in the great,cavernous barn, but mostly with some of the finest guitar and banjo pickin', fiddle faddlin' and singing west of Ole Miss...
A wide grin splitting his face, he followed Leon up to the makeshift stage as his new amigo waved and greeted others, encluding not a few lovely senoritas, Jack noticed. He bet that they wouldn't fall asleep on him...where the heck was Em?
The last song ended and soon Jack didn't even care, as a lone fiddle player took the stand and launched into a mix to beat the band sounding like a goulash of Orange Blossom Special, Black Mountain Rag, Wabash Cannonball, and Tennessee Stud as played by some fella who knew more about music when he was still in the womb perhaps,than did Jack.He shook his head, his grin turning to awe. He was waaay outof his league here,Jack realized! He'd have to come up with something different, for sure...
After the roar of approval died down, a trio took the stage;  a guitar player, fiddle player and banjo. The guitarist positioned himself far in front of the others and smiled, raising an enquiring eyebrow. He was tall, fair and flashy or so bethought himself. Jack thought he reminded him of Zap Brannigan of Futurama fame, an oldies tv show,based on an even older tv show.
Johnny Guitar proceeded to treat them all to his version of
'When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again', deciding he needed to stroll about the crowd, stopping at each young marriagable maiden to regale her with his mediocre at best rendition.
Strangely, this nearly caused a cat-tussle with a couple of the ladies who were sure his song was meant for her only...
It was at that point that Em appeared at Jack's side at long last.
'Oh, my...I'm sorry Jack I've been gone so long! But not long enough, I see,'she surmised, taking in the situation.
At last, the song ignominiously ended and johnny g.was long gone satisfied at the hornet's nest he'd stirred.

Jack then noticed Leon was onstage with his concertina, motioning him up whilst others filed on bearing fiddles, a bass, a conga type drum, and two more guitars and a banjo. Jack shrugged at Em, who smiled encouragingly as he joined the others.
Everyone tuned up awhile and gave the crowd a chance to get a drink and chat a spell. Jack shook hands with the other musicians and received a warm welcome when they learned he was there with Em and the Guevaras. Still, some couldn't but help rib Jack a little about his easterners'  suit and shoes with the blue tint.
'Nice shoes you got there, city feller,' said the guitar player who spat to the side.
'Yep, real nice shoes.' agreed the mandolin player who, Jack recalled was named Jethro something.
'Thanks, ah...'
'Simpson's the name. Homer Simpson.'They shook hands.
'This here's Jethro Bodine.'
'Jack VAn Horn, pleased to meet you both!' Jack said, noticing that all had suddenly gone quiet except for him.
'Well! Seems we have a new player in town!' The head of the hoe-down and MC for the evening and erstwhile owner of the West Pankhurst Saloon the Leaping Lizard, Mr. Woody Marley declaimed, turning to Jack. 'So!--Jack! May I call you Jack?'
'Just don't call me late for dinner,Woody!' Jack trotted out. (Ba-dum-bum.)
Everyone laughed, thankfully. Everything old is new again, thought Jack, getting an idea.
'Well, now, why don't we let our guest lead us in song, then, shall we?'
Woody led the applause as he stepped off the stage.
'Why thank you, Woody, I'd be honored.' Jack stepped up to the occasion. 'And thank you all, for a fine welcome and fine pie, indeed...' Some whoops seconded that sentiment and Jack turned to the others, 'I'm not sure what key this will be in...'
'Ah, now you just take off there, Jack Be Nimble, we'll catch up right quick!' said Homer, winking at Jethro.
Jack spun around, striking a chord. 'Welll-ll it's: One For the Money!' he jerked his hips and ,ba-dum-bum, the conga player caught on! He slammed another chord: 'Two for the show!' Ba-dum-bam! 'Three to get ready,'he nodded briefly to the others, 'Now go, cat, go!' he launched into full Elvis mode, 'But don't you--step on my blue suede shoes! You can do anything but lay offa my blue suede shoes!' To his relief, the others had caught him like they said they would and were riffing like sombitches...'Blue, blue blue suede shoes...' When he heard some appreciative whoops and hollers, he leapt from the stage and began HIS rounds of the audience, only much differently from johnny guitar...he picked out old ladies to sing to, and young children. He slung his guitar behind him and guided a young 7 year old senorita  in a dance, still singing he moved on to a 70 year old great-grandma, who, still sprightly, made a twirl under his arm before sitting back down, pleased as peaches.
'Well, you can do anything, but lay offa my blue suede shoes!' he jumped back onstage to a round of howls and whistles...'you can burn ma house, steal my car, drink my liquor from an old fruit jar, but oh oh honey lay offa my shoes...'and so it went...ending thankfully Jack thought, with applause.
'Well, now that wasn't so bad, there, old son!' Homer nodded to him. 'You got any thing else you might pull outa your ole f-hole there?' He and Jethro laughed, Jack joined in. 'Maybe. You feel up to it?'
'Hell, yes.'Homer reached behind him, and offered Jack the jug.
Holy moley, thought Jack, not again! Now is not the time to be inhospitable, though... Gamely, Jack took the proffered ceramic.
Hm. Rocket fuel, no doubt, he thought. Taking a cautious sip, he was pleasantly surprised. He took another pull.
'Jack likes the jack, apparently,'Jethro said, approvingly.
'Apple brandy! Damn good, too!' Jack handed back the jug, noting that the audience was stomping feet, clapping and generally growing rather restive. 'Ready, boys? A one, two...'he nodded, to them,then turned to the crowd,
'Heeeyyyyy! Get rhythm, when you get the blues! C'mon get rhythm, when you get the blues!'
The hollerin' and cheers went up a notch.
'...Get a rock 'n roll feelin' in your bones, get tappin' your toes, and get goin'
--get rhythm, when you get the blues!'
Jack had 'em!He noticed Emmeline eyeing him with new appreciation,smiling and clapping her hands in time and tappin' her toe before him. Em and all, he thought.
Glad I came...
'C'mon get rhythm, when you get the blues!
Lil'shoeshine boy he never gets low down,
but he's got the dirtiest job in town!
Bendin' low over people's feet on a windy corner of a dirty street. Well, I asked, as he shined my shoes, how'd he keep from gettin the blues? He grinned as he raised his lil' head,
popped his shoeshine rag and then he said,
Get rhythm! When you get the blues...c'mon get rhythm,
when you get the blues!'
                               . . . .
As it grew darker in the hollow, some of the crowd had thinned abit with the late hour,but the barn dance was still lively; just not quite so over-crowded and boisterous now. The music reflected this and slower songs, 'belly-rubbers' and ballads were trotted out to an appreciative audience.
It was then that Emmeline took her turn onstage, accompanied by the maestro fiddler Mr. Stoneman, Homer and Jethro and Jack of course. Em knew that Jack had made such a hit that she'd have to enclude him as frontman.She whispered something in his ear, then turned to the audience: 'This is a little something we'll dedicate to those lonesome Texans in the crowd!' Clapping and hollering greeted that pronouncement favorably and then Em and Jack launched into:
'There's a Yellow Rose of Texas, that I am going to see!
Nobody else could miss her, not half as much as me...
She cried so when I left her, it like to broke my heart,
And if I ever find her, we never more will part!...'
They made a fine duet, and couples swung out onto the floor and commenced dancing...
Not all were pleased with their song, however. 'Johnny Guitar' as Jack bethought him, stood off to the side with some of his cronies chewing on a stick of hay and looking daggers at Jack.
They got into a huddle and seemed to be talking amongst themselves, then.
Emmeline was oblivious to all of this though, so pleased was she that the evening was coming along just fine to her mind...she'd news that Alice and all were safe at last, Jack seemed to be enjoying himself, and, just then she espied Ernestine, Leon and Marta come inside with some other musicians;she recognized the guitar player as one of Lev's comrades.She smiled through her song and nodded at them. It was good to see Marta again. What a treasure trove of herbal lore she was!
The song ended to applause, and whistles, and Jack found his case and put his guitar up, leaving it onstage while he and Em stepped down to take a break at last. The band shuffled members abit and then broke into: 'Grandfather's Clock' in a slow 3/4 time more suited to belly-rubbers.
'Care to dance Em? They're playing our song, after all...' Jack
grinned.
Em laughed, 'Well, I suppose in a way, it is...' she agreed as they began a waltz. 'Time does seem to play a leading part in our lives, of late...'
Jack had his arms around her at last. It felt good, and it felt just right, to him. This is how things should be, he thought...perhaps how they could have been, if he hadn't been so...impulsive, perhaps? Emmeline was not a lady to be rushed into anything, much less ambushed and abducted. Jack sighed, ah, well...'note to self', he thought...
'So, Jack...how do you like our little Pankhurst Playhouse here?' Em smiled up at him.
'It's great, Em! I'm glad you asked me to come. These boys, however,'he nodded to the stage,'have me sorely at a disadvantage, musically! It was generous of them to accept my bluster for actual playing...'
'The crowd loved it Jack!'It was true.'They hadn't heard anything quite like that before! I believe you have a new style.'
'Not so new, Em, really...'Jack admitted, thinking of Grandfather Time.
The waltz ended and new arrivals took the stage as musicians
do-si-do'd around one another and played musical chairs, rearranging themselves. Emmeline excused herself to speak to the Guevaras a moment and Jack stood to the side, watching, eagerly anticipating the next set. It took a moment before he realized he wasn't alone and Johnny Guitar and his boys had sidled up quietly alongside.
'So what's a Gypsy Davey like yourself doin' singing songs about Texas, anyway?' Johnny spat at Jack's feet in punctuation.
'Excuse me?' Jack was taken by surprise. This was the first anti-social experience he'd had here tonight and he wasn't expecting it, and certainly wasn't in the mood for it.
'You heard me, gypsy!' Johnny accented the last word as if it had special meaning for Jack. 'Why boys,' he turned to his cronies, 'I wouldn't be at'all surprised to find a knife in his sock, eh? Maybe we oughta just check here...'
'Maybe you boys oughta just skedaddle on home, quiet-like now,'Woody Marley had been keeping an eye on all the action, and owning a saloon,he could smell when a scuffle was brewing, and so had Homer and Jethro and a few others there in a wink to back up Jack. Meanwhile, Emmeline had caught on to the disturbance and she and the Guevaras came to Jack's side then as well.
Seeing he was outnumbered, Johnny spit again,'Ah, hell, this place is gettin' tired anyhow! Let's go, boys!' He eyed Emmeline hard, then turned to Jack once more. 'She's not for you, gypsy!'
And spitting again for emphasis, turned rabbit and ran.
'What on earth was all that about?' Emmeline asked Jack.'And why did he insist on calling you a gypsy?'
Jack sighed heavily, but said nothing. He did have a dirk in his sock though, having taken a page from Aleister's book. Just in case...
'Well, good riddance to bad rubbish, eh?' Woody clapped Jack on the back, 'Don't let them get to you, Jack! We're not all complete idiots here like those Bush boys...ole J.George there lost the last screw that held his brains in tight...
And say, by the way, anytime you want to play that, whatever it is, rockin and rollin music you cooked up, well bring it on over to the Leapin' Lizard, you hear? I'll book you, you bet!' Jack about half-smiled then. Woody turned to Em,'You also, Miss Emmeline, would be most welcome, if the Pankhurst Inn would let me steal you away! An' you two make a pretty duet together! Think about it!'
So saying, Woody exited, back up stageside.
'Whew!'Em exhaled. 'What a night, indeed!' She put her arm through Jack's though, just so everyone there knew that Jack had their approval overall...and turned to the stage. A mariachi band had set up with some of the 'regulars' who remained sittin' in. 'Oh, Jack, this will be fun. It's Marta's birthday today...the same as my sister Amelie's!' Em sighed. 'I sent a package and letter of course, but we've both been so busy of late...well, that's how it goes I guess...Oh,they're about to begin, here comes Woody.I love horns!'
'Do you, Em? I do too!' Jack was all ears.
'Como estas?' Woody winked and turned to the band. 'Well we have a real treat here tonight! In honor of Senora Guevara's birthday today, Febuary 8th!--' Much applause and cheering was heard then, as that good lady blushed and waved away the to-do, but was smiling thoughout...'--how old are you, honey? I'd guess maybe 35...?' Marta rolled her eyes heavenward and shook her finger at Woody.'Doggone, she's not tellin! Well, she'll just have to promise me the first dance then! Take it away, muchachos!' And as the band played Carabina 30 30, Woody swung himself from the stage and into the Senora's waiting arms...
After Jack himself had a birthday dance with Marta, he sat to rest a spell while Emmeline danced a polka with Leon nearby.
Soon though,Jack felt he wasn't alone, and clued in to find Homer and Jethro hovering hard by, heads nodding to the music, as  they handed him the jug.
'Good stuff, I'll say!' Jack declaimed. 'By the way, I thought this was supposed to be a barn-raising hoe-down! This here barn looks plenty old though, in great shape! '
Jethro and Homer exchanged knowing glances. 'That it is, Jack-Shoes! Wonderful acoustics, no?' Jack nodded. 'Ah, well, it's like this...we did have a raisin' of sorts, but, it isn't this particular barn, see...'
Jethro picked up where Homer left off,'It's...sortof back behind the barn.' He winked.
They both looked at Jack, all innocent smiles. 'Would you care to see it?' Homer asked.
'Well, since it's you two asking, don't mind if I do,' Jack consented thinking that he wouldn't go behind the barn with just anybody...he caught Em's eye as she twirled around and pointed to his new-found friends and gave her the 'just 1 minute!' sign with index finger up. Em smiled and waved him on, as she polka'd away....
                               . . . .
The night was full of stars so bright they nearly hurt your eyes. They seemed closer here in the hills and Jack craned his neck to view the river of the Milky Way and searched for Orion and the waning view of the Pleiades. The night sky in winter was the best for star-gazing in this neck of the world thought Jack as he inhaled the crisp night air that smelled of fresh starlight to him, following behind the two men ahead.
It was actually rather a ways behind the barn when he noticed they were heading to a rough building made of wood, but with tin roof and sides which sandwiched the wood in-between. He wasn't surprised when Homer unlocked the padlock on the door, and then a couple of more door locks, and gingerly hanging the lantern high inside, Jack beheld a copper still.'Ah! I knew that jack had to come from somewhere!'
'Well, sure,'said Jethro. 'But the still's just a cover.'
The still, was a cover? Lord and Lady, for what, Jack wondered. Then he smelled it.He sniffed again.
Homer noticed. 'See? I knew this ole boy had a brain behind that slick suit! What do you think you smell besides applejack there, Mr. Shoes?'
Jack followed his nose to where a partition halved the room. 'It's in there,' he nodded to the other side of the wall. 'What the heck are you boys up to?' He asked, but he grinned all the same.
Clearing his throat, Homer unlocked Door #2. 'Well, just as any old fool can make white lightning, yet it takes a bit of artistry to create a fine apple brandy...' he made a mock bow, 'My colleague here and myself have been experimenting, shall we say...' he stood aside and held the door for Jack, meeting Jethro's eyes.
Past a rather spartan room, with bits of tin and steel parts, gears and flywheels, and a tall cylinder that resembled a straight smokestack.
Again, another door.Homer unlocked Door #3. which led downstairs. Jack could smell dank earth...and something else.
Homer led them onward downstairs bearing the lamp til they reached bottom.Jack could feel cold air breezing by, and heard water drip.
Jack stepped gently into the Inner Sanctum as Jethro took the lamp. 'Holy Bat Crap!' Jack exclaimed, and the two men could no longer contain their guffaws.
'Got'er in one, Jack-Shoes!' Still giggling like two boys playing hookey, they delighted in showing Jack their 'lab'.
'Why hell, not only is it great fertilizer, lotsa nitrates!--
but this fine guano here can be leached into nothin' more than saltpeter, ain't that so?'
Good gods, these boys were making gunpowder! 'You all building bat-bombs here?' he asked.
'Oh, yeah! Bat bombs, and working on rockets, too. Check out what ole Jethro has rigged up here...' Jack could just make out what they were showing him, although he felt rather anxious with all this guano, the lantern, the 'experiments', the lantern...still, he was mighty intrigued, he had to admit...
As Jethro retrieved a cylinder about as tall as himself, Homer continued,'Why, during the Civil War the armies used to mine bat caves for guano...'
'Ah, hell,'Jethro added, 'The Chinese had rockets back in the 1200's!'
'By gods, you boys might have something here! I've worked on similar projects, myself!' Jack allowed.
'Is that so, then? Well, you'll just have to come back around sometime in daylight. We'll engineer a little demonstration for you!' Homer and Jethro were just pleased as punch to find a fellow bat-bomber.'Ahh...meanwhile, I guess we should be headin' on back to the dance.' He winked at Jack, 'I wouldn't leave Miss Emmeline alone for too long, if I were you...'
                            . . . .
Miss Emmeline had indeed been wondering where Jack could have gone. She hadn't been lonesome, certainly, but she was about danced-out now. Knowing he had gone off with Jethro and Homer could mean only one thing to her: Applejack.
'They'll turn up, nina,'Marta sat beside her, resting a spell.
'Oh, I'm not worried. Jack can take care of himself! How are you doing, Marta? Tired?' Marta shook her head. 'Well, I surely am!'Em allowed.
'You've been working too hard, too much, too long, Emmeline! Like Ernestina, you don't know when to quit!' Marta admonished her. 'So it's also your hermana's birthday today as well! My,my!'
'Yes! We were both born on the 8th day! Only she was born in Spring, and I, in fall.'
'Ah, si, I remember...what month?'
'October 8th.'Em said. Marta's eyes went wide. 'Truly, Em? Oh, you know what they say about those who are born on the 8th day of the 8th month...!'
'But, October is the 10th month, Marta!'
'Think, Em! Octo!--means, what?'
'Eight!' Of course, thought Em, the old Roman calendar.'Tell me, Marta! I've never heard a thing!'
Perhaps Emmeline would have been enlightened then, but suddenly Jack, Jethro and Homer appeared at the barn door, arms about each other and singing 'Carabina 30 30'at the top of their lungs and sharing the Little Brown Jug...
Time for this one to go home, thought Em.