The Matchmaker, Part 1
By Debbie Franklin

John Danziger put his hand to his brow, shielding his eyes against the glaring sun. Danziger wondered how it could be so bright and the air still be so cool. A breeze out of the east ruffled his hair. He smiled in satisfaction; the terrain ahead was rolling hills, grassland with a few lines of trees, growing along creek banks, no doubt. They'd made good time today. From the looks of things, tomorrow would be better.

***

It was early fall. Devon was still a bit weak from her ordeal; the group traveled slower and took scheduled days off so as not to overtax her. She'd protested, all but kicking and screaming, at the babying her people forced on her. Uly, wise in the ways of the sickly, convinced her to accept it. He understood, and Devon took comfort in that. Yale advised her to learn from the situation, to understand in a small way what Uly and the Syndrome children faced.

So Eden Advance plodded westward, day by day, mile by mile. New Pacificia drew ever closer. And the closer it became, the more real it became. Talk of the homes they'd build for themselves, the layout of the 'town', even gardens, increasingly dominated conversation.

The land about them was rich and generous. Hunger was not a demon at present. John had chosen a campsite just under the eaves of a forest. The group ate well, dreamed more of homes to be, and slept soundly. Baines and Denner walked the perimeter, collars turned up against the chill air, until Cameron and Alonzo relieved them. Morning came, and the journey continued.

***

Danziger was again the scout. He crested a hill, and gazed across the landscape. Something, there next to those trees...he raised the jumpers and zoomed in for a better look. He lowered them, forehead creased in thought, raised them for a second look. Those trees weren't lining a stream; they were lining...a road?

His gear transferred from jacket pocket to head, John, after weighing carefully whether Devon would be harmed more by concern about the road or anger at being bypassed, contacted the woman. She told him to stay put. Walman and Magus would soon join him. The rest of them would halt.

John smiled. He'd half expected Devon to join him. Looked like she was learning to take care of herself, finally. Adair was what John called a 'cracked plate mother', the kind who sacrifice everything for the kids, like eating off the cracked plate so a kid could have a good one.

***

The two DuneRailed themselves to Danziger in several minutes. He didn't have time to get antsy and wander down for some lone exploration. The three bumped and jostled along, gently downslope, across a beautiful stand of ripening grain, to the curious line of trees. John was first to reach them, and had left the ATV when the 'Rail pulled up next to it. They were still some yards from the trees. Magus and Walman wasted no time catching up with Danziger. The trio crawled to the other side of the narrow woodlet.

"It's definitely a road," stated Magus. The men lay on their bellies, looking up the road, then down the road, which ran straight to the left and curved to the right. Danziger felt an unaccountable urge to find out what was beyond that curve.

"It's dirt," observed Walman.

"It's still a road," said Magus. "A well-maintained, and probably well-traveled road."

"Terrians don't need roads," said John darkly. "And the Grendlers don't build 'em, as far as we know. Could be another human settlement."

"Settlements," corrected Magus. "A road connects one place to another."

"Ummm," agreed Walman. Danziger grunted out a "yeah".

The road was dusty, as was the vegetation adjacent. The three didn't realize this was an indication of a very well-traveled roadway. The rain four days past had washed the weeds clean.

"Oh, hell," said Danziger thoughtfully. He pulled away from the roadside and peered back thru the trees, to the vehicles, and beyond to the destruction they'd wrought across the field. "I've got a feeling we drove thru someone's crop."

"Guess we won't make a good first impression." Magus winced. "Or get out of here unnoticed."

"Yeah," Danziger said, leaving the woods as stealthily as he could manage. "So we better get out of here now!"

The trio fled, not straying from the path they'd ignorantly cut in what was now obviously cultivated land. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a figure appeared in the trampled grain before them. Danziger stopped. Walman swerved the DuneRail, prematurely harvesting another swath.

"Here now, what's this?!!" demanded the pitchfork wielding farmer. "Jimmy! Horace! Get a move on, lads!" He thrust out his lower lip. "Can't depend on the young'uns for nothing. They don't want to work," he rattled on, as if the startled Edenites were old friends from down the road. "Not like when I was a boy."

Jimmy and Horace, or Horace and Jimmy, popped out of the grainstalks, panting. Both were red-cheeked, rather plump, and definitely short. The 'lads' were armed with a scythe and a hay rake. The farmer and his farmhands were overwhelmingly outgunned, but didn't seem to realize it.

Nor did the dumbstruck Edenites. They were immobile except for the head swiveling necessary to stare wide-eyed at their captors. The tallest, one of the youths, wasn't quite a meter high. All were well fed, sturdy folk. They were uniformly brown-haired and it uniformly curled; the farmer's was streaking gray. His eyes were framed by a crisscross of lines, smile-derived from the looks of them. All wore straw hats which had seen better days, as had the jackets and pants of the two lads. The farmer wore a heavy sweater, stained down the front, and a relatively nice pair of pants. None were shod; they had remarkably hairy feet.

"You've done some real damage to a fine wheat crop," said the farmer. "I'll be expecting payment." He nodded sincerely. "You big folks think you can come and go as you please--" he waved the pitchfork around to illustrate-- "but that's not how it is here. Maybe in the wild woods, where there ain't no law, but here--" he thudded the tines of the fork into the ground emphatically-- "here, vandalism is frowned on, and vandalizers held accountable. The sheriff sees to that, him and his men. A fine lot, too. My niece's brother-in-law is one of his top deputies. You'll be a-meeting him soon. I sent Oliver into Green Grove to fetch 'em."

"I understand," croaked Danziger.

The farmer grinned broadly, red cheeks rounding into apples. "I knew you was good sorts! Just high-spirited, I reckon, showing off for the lady." He winked. "Can't say that I blame you; she's a real looker. Bit tall and thin to really be beautiful, if you don't mind my saying so, miss."

Magus opened her mouth. The words didn't find the way out.

The farmer laughed and winked again. "Bit shy, is she? Them's the best kind on a cold winter night, if you know what I mean. No offense, miss."

"None taken," responded Magus, bemused.

"Well, now," the farmer wiped his hands on a red handkerchief, stuffed it back in his pocket, and extended a hand to John. "Name's Muggermun, Oscar Muggermun. The wife calls me Mr. Muggermun, but my friends just call me Muggermun. Never liked the name 'Oscar'; it was my maternal great-uncle's name and he had a bit of money. Willed it to my second cousin Albert."

"John Danziger," said the mechanic. He was beginning to get a grip. Not literally, altho' the farmer was still pumping his hand with a very strong grip, indeed. John was beginning to recover his wits.

Muggermun tromped to the DuneRail and offered his hand to Walman, who stammered thru an introduction.

"Miss," said the farmer, reaching for her. Magus gave him her hand, and to the surprise of all--including the lads--he raised it to his lips and bestowed a kiss upon it. "Such soft hands," he complimented. Magus blushed. Muggermun leaned closer, panicking Magus who fleetingly thought he wanted a more satisfying kiss, and stage-whispered, "Choose the curly-headed one. You can't go wrong with a curly-headed man." He tugged at his own spiraling locks. Magus blushed mightily.

"Is your name as pretty as yourself?"

"Magus,--"

"Magus, Magus," he repeated, trying it out on his tongue. "Now, then, is it to be Magus Walman or Magus Danziger?" Muggermun smiled paternally and patted Magus' knee.

She opened her mouth to correct him, then sat back, resigned. The strange, furry-footed little man had already tackled another subject.

"Well, now, since we're all friends, come have dinner with me."

"Thanks. We do appreciate the offer, but I don't think we can accept," rumbled Danziger.

"My wife's a renowned cook in these parts," lured Muggermun. "And these," he laughed, patting an ample stomach.

The Edenites and Jimmy and Horace laughed with him. Muggermun was plainly what he appeared to be: a jolly farmer, extroverted and sincerely delighted to make your acquaintance. Even if 'you' had just destroyed part of his wheat crop only days before harvest.

"Come on," he coaxed, nodding his head roadward. "It's only a short walk, especially for legs as long as yours."

"I really don't want to leave my vehicles," hedged Danziger.

"Ah, that's it! Bring 'em along! I'll bet the lads would fancy a ride in one of your contraptions, eh, boys?"

"Yessir, be a real experience, sir," replied Jimmy or Horace. Both nodded enthusiastically.

Danziger silently consulted his companions, who as silently left the decision up to him. At least, that's how he interpreted the shrugs and 'whatever' expressions. His head told him no; his gut said yes. Gut won.

"Just you mind you keep to the path you've already run thru my field. Why, you've ruint enough wheat for three of the wife's renowned honey cakes."

"Honey?" echoed Walman. "A sweet, sticky syrup made by bees?"

"What's 'bees'?"

"An insect," answered Walman dismissively.

Muggermun laughed. "Insect! Honey comes from trees, boy! You was raised in the city, wasn't you, boy?"

"Yeah."

Muggermun and the lads climbed into the vehicles, Muggermun riding behind Danziger on the ATV. He didn't want to risk 'having my head turned by sweet Magus'. Magus was not upset by his caution. She sat in the back of the 'Rail with Horace or Jimmy, whichever one had the hay rake, which he'd lain across their laps.

"What's these vehicles of yours burn?" asked Muggermun.

"Electricity."

"What? What's that? I ain't heard of no 'electricity' mines. Unless you're meaning the sunstones."

"Terrians' sunstones? No. We don't fool with them. That panel next to you catches solar energy and converts it into electricity."

"Ah, you burn sunlight, then! Wonderful! You big folks, always dreaming up something new."

"Do you see many 'big folks' around here?" asked John casually.

"Only three," replied the farmer. He laughed heartily at his own wit, as did the lads. Magus covered her eyes with her hand and shook her head hopelessly.

Muggermun sobered. "Naw, not in years! Generally, your kind are stopped at the border. Terrians told us to let your caravan thru, and they're boss, so here you are, riding pell-mell thru *my* fields."

"You have much to do with the Terrians?" pressed Danziger.

"No more than necessary. Pesky as moles, digging thru the earth, popping out, frightening women and children. We have a treaty with 'em, I guess you could say. They know we love the earth: we relish the feel of a rich black clod crumbling in the hand when it's time for spring planting, the smell of the rain in the late afternoon, the sound of a laughing brook, the taste of fresh vegetables and wild fruit, the sight of birds soaring high above." Muggermun sighed.

Danziger was glad Muggermun had come to the end of his senses. No telling how long the old guy would have orated. 'The old guy' spoke again, briskly.

"So, they give us this land generations upon generations ago, and in return, we do them an occasional favor."

"What about the Grendlers?"

"Grendlers? Never heard of 'em."

"Slobbery traders. Big, hulking things."

"Ah, the Snotty Ones. We don't have much dealings with them, either. Just on festival days, they's allowed in to barter. You'd better believe we keep a close eye on 'em, too. They'll take anything what ain't nailed down!" Muggermun lowered his voice. "This is stomach-turning revolting, but true: that snot of theirs is good medicine. Cures almost anything. For external use only, of course. And you might not want to tell the ladies the source of the poultice. They're delicate, you know."

'He's not met Devon Adair,' thought John. Aloud, he said, "Thanks, I'll bear it in mind."

"You do that, lad, you do that!" said Muggermun, slapping Danziger on the back.

They stopped at the edge of the woods, having obliterated another cake's worth of wheat on the way. The little fellows jumped (literally) out of the vehicles and the big fellows stepped out; under Muggermun's direction, all began clearing away underbrush. A fragrant pink flower was sacrificed. Muggermun surreptiously slipped it to Danziger, tugging at him until he squatted down, then muttering, "The ladies do appreciate unexpected presents."

The mechanic looked at the farmer. The farmer winked and nodded slightly toward Magus. "Go on, don't be shy. Women like a man who's thoughtful."

The burr-like Muggermun wasn't giving up until Magus had received the flower. Danziger stood and grinned down at him. "I think you're right."

"'Course I am, boy," he replied. He gave Danziger an encouraging push on the butt. "Go on, now."

Magus accepted the flower, grinning broadly at Danziger. Getting into the spirit of things, and to please the comical little farmer, she raised herself on tiptoe and kissed her old pal on the cheek. Then she turned away so Muggermun couldn't see her expression.

"See?" said Muggermun triumphantly. "Can we take them thru there?"

Danziger blinked, realized Muggermun meant the vehicles thru what they'd cleared and replied in the affirmative. The farmer jumped from subject to subject with dizzying speed.

"Good!" He clapped his hands together. "Alright, everyone, climb aboard! Dinner's waiting!"

Danziger found out what was around the curve: farmland and more road. And dust. Muggermun had insisted the DuneRail precede the ATV, as the dust would be harmful to 'sweet Magus's' complexion and lungs. It certainly didn't bother the garrulous farmer, tho'. He chattered on and on, commenting on crops and the farming competence of various neighbors, pointing out local landmarks. There were no houses to be seen. There *were* shelters for the livestock, and barns. From time to time, the road forked or intersected another. Soon, the DuneRail took a right fork, and soon, the road ended.

The hillside had windows. Windows with curtains, lacy or checked. The hillside had a porch. It also had a door, which burst open to release a horde of little furry-footed girls. The oldest was evidently a teenager: she had curves. The rest of the girls stair-stepped down.

"My pride and joy!" declared the farmer, leaping from the ATV. He ran toward the children, knelt, and embraced three of them at once.

"Apricot, run tell Mama we got guests for dinner. We'll be having a picnic!"

Apricot ran inside, almost immediately returning with a red-checked tablecloth and a green-striped quilt. The Edenites watched from their vehicles as Muggermun directed the preparations for dinner outside. The children obeyed him without question, eager to sit and eat with the strangers. Only the oldest of them remembered seeing big folks. She brought a basin of water, soap, and a towel to the Edenites.

Magus had a thought. (She had them frequently, but as a rule didn't share them). "We haven't contacted camp."

Quickly, they snapped the eyepieces to a more useful position and radioed the anxious camp. Devon rebuked them. They hadn't called and they'd gone with people they didn't know.

"We're fine, 'Mom'," said Walman, before cutting his connection and accepting a mug of ??? could it be?? small sip. Yes, it was! Beer! He downed it in a gulp. That impressed Jimmy or Horace, but the mug was more of a demitasse to the big folks.

The Matchmaker, Part 2
By Debbie Franklin

A woman who had to be 'the wife' strode out the door, bearing a tray laden with bread. She didn't glance at Muggermun's guests, whipped around and reentered the door in the hillside. This she repeated several times, the last after Muggermun whispered to her something that she didn't want to hear. The woman flounced inside and returned with a silver tray on which was a beautiful china tea set. This she placed on the central table.

"Well, come on!" said Muggermun. "Food's getting cold!"

The trio climbed out and joined a now bare-headed Muggermun at the central table. *They* sat on the ground. Danziger was still on his feet when a tiny child, obviously just waking from a nap (she was dragging her blanket) toddled out the door, an older sister behind her. She stopped at the edge of the porch and gaped at Danziger. Her brown eyes grew wider, her lower lip began trembling, and the terrified child fled crying back into the safety of the hill. The escorting sister followed.

Mrs. Muggermun snorted. "Well," was all she said verbally. The devoted mother left her husband's side and went to see to her frightened baby.

The little girl's wails were the only sound. An uncomfortable silence held the group captive. Danziger lowered himself to the ground as quietly as possible. He was mortified. When he looked at the others, they looked at their plates, even Walman and Magus. The embarrassed giant swallowed, hurting inside with compassion for the toddler. He faced Muggermun, sitting to his right.

"You've got children yourself, ain't you, John?" said the farmer kindly.

"Yeah," rumbled Danziger. "A daughter."

Muggermun narrowed his eyes and looked at Magus. He turned back to Danziger and stared at him. "And her mother?"

Danziger dropped his gaze and began idly pulling his bread apart. How to explain about Elle? He looked up, tears brimming.

"Ah," said Muggermun. His expression softened and he placed a consoling hand on Danziger's shoulder. "You're a widower, then."

"Yeah."

Muggermun squeezed gently. "Left to raise a daughter. That's a hard job, even with a wife." He beamed at his brood. "I should know, we've got seven and another on the way! I don't know where the wife gets the energy."

"All girls?" asked Magus.

"Each and every one a beauty," he declared, elicting giggles from several of them. "You'll have to excuse me, John; I'd best see what's happening inside."

With Muggermun gone, Jimmy and Horace dominated the conversation. The girls were too shy to speak to the big folks directly. The two farmhands happily puffed themselves up with pride and acted as if they were authorities on big folks.

Magus smeared jelly on her bread and took a bite. It was very good. She took another, bigger, bite.

"You can't eat yet!" cried one of the middle girls. Her older sisters shushed at her. "But we ain't said grace, and if she eats unblessed food, it'll give her diarrhea!"

With the exception of two extremely embarrassed older sisters and Danziger (he was still concerned about the littlest girl), the picnickers howled with laughter.

Muggermun, carrying the now hiccuping toddler and followed by a wife with an expression which could stun the birds right out of the sky, walked out into the yard. "What've I missed? What's tickled all the funny bones?"

The defiant middle sister, who'd noticed what she'd said discomfited her two older sisters, replied, "Miss Magus was eating unblessed food, and it'll give her diarrhea, and she won't fit in the outhouse." After that pronouncement, she glanced sideways at the blushing siblings. So there!

Even Mrs. Muggermun found it humorous. Her expression thawed from rigid to stern.

Magus smiled. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

'The wife' spoke to one of the big folk for the first time. "Well, we can't help how we're raised." Mrs. Muggermun inhaled deeply, preparing for a mini-lecture. All of the little folk were plump; most of Mrs. Muggermun's plump was in her bosom. The preparatory inhalation was impressive, indeed. "Children, the big folks have interesting toys--" she indicated the vehicles "and they are larger and stronger. But *we* are not heathens." Insult delivered, 'the wife' sat down.

Muggermun rolled his eyes at Danziger. Women. The farmer sat between wife and giant, his youngest girl clinging to the wife side of him. She peered timidly around her father at Danziger. Before the meal was over, she'd summoned the courage to reach out and poke him with one tiny finger. Danziger had waggled his eyebrows at her, and she giggled.

"It's customary for the eldest male guest to say grace," Mrs. Muggermun informed them, "But under the circumstances, the responsibility falls to Mr. Muggermun. Join hands."

Each table clasped into its own ring, and the farmer asked the Lord's blessing on the meal, and on the guests. He asked that the big folks get to know Him a little better. Mrs. Muggermun fleetingly smiled. Not likely, she thought, but the Lord *is* in the miracle business.

The blessed food was everything Muggermun had promised. His wife, the renowned cook, had prepared several vegetables and two meats and lots of bread. The Edenites unknowingly devoured the week's baking. Danziger ate three loaves himself. Dessert was magnificent: four pies, two puddings, cookies, and a rich fudgy concoction Magus couldn't refuse.

Watching the three big folks eat, Mrs. Muggermun began to feel sorry for them, especially skin and bones Magus. Mrs. Muggermun thawed a bit further, urging Magus to add a little (high fat) butter to everything except the tea. For that, there was cream. What kind of uncivilized creatures were those men, fattening themselves and allowing a young woman of childbearing years to shrivel up like that? No wonder she had no husband. But these two men were interested in her; they'd ripped into the wheat courting her. They destroy crops, and what does Mr. Muggermun do? He brings them home for dinner.

More guests arrived: the Law. Dessert was still being served, so they helped themselves. The sheriff and three of his deputies were armed with billyclubs. They were more neatly dressed than the farmer and Jimmy and Horace. And Oliver. The Law wore badges, also.

When even the big folks were stuffed, Mrs. Muggermun supervised the cleaning up. Magus offered to help and was informed the kitchen would not accomodate her and anyone else. Besides, the sheriff and his men would be wanting to talk to her. The men politely excluded her from their company, too. Magus was rescued from aimless wandering by three of the younger daughters, who shyly invited her to come see their playhouse.

All the adult men (Oliver included, tho' he was still a month shy of reaching majority) pulled pipes from somewhere in their garments and prepared for a smoke. Danziger and Walman were fascinated.

The little folk were familiar with the big folks' general unfamiliarity with tobacco, and resolved to have a bit of fun. Muggermun called a daughter over and instructed her to fetch pipes for the guests. Danziger and Walman shared an uncertain look. Muggermun kept a straight face, the sheriff and his men shared knowing looks, and Oliver smirked.

The pipes were filled and given to the big men. Walman sniffed cautiously at the tobacco. Danziger watched his reaction.

"This can't really be tobacco," said Walman disbelievingly.

"That's what we call it," replied Muggermun. "You big folks may have the same name for something altogether different." He drew thoughtfully on his pipe.

"How did it get here?" demanded Walman.

"How the hell did *they* get here?" responded Danziger.

"Here, now!" exclaimed the sheriff. "We'll not have any of that kind of talk! You may well spout all kinds of filth among your own, but when you come among us, you are subject to our customs and our laws."

"I apologize," said Danziger, hiding his amusement at the reaction his minor swearing provoked.

"I'll let you off this time, but try it again..." The three foot tall sheriff meaningfully gripped the billyclub at his side.

Danziger did not laugh. He waited a moment to be certain he wouldn't, and said, "Thank you."

The sheriff nodded, satisfaction all over his face. To show there were no hard feelings, he took it upon himself to educate Danziger in the fine art of smoking. Muggermun tutored Walman. Jimmy and Horace watched enviously.

Lighting the tobacco was more difficult than it looked. Eventually, however, the two big men were almost timidly sucking at the pipes, while the little men blew smoke rings. Oliver's were those of an amateur. Still, he could draw on the pipe without coughing and the big men couldn't. He could enjoy a smoke without a headache. He bet the big men couldn't. And *his* eyes weren't watering.

Danziger gave up first. He cleared his throat and coughed. "I'm sorry, I don't think I'm getting the hang of this." He held the pipe awkwardly, uncertain where to put it. The little men chuckled.

"Not a big enough man to take it, eh?" observed Oliver and he proudly blew another deformed smoke ring.

Danziger studied Oliver. The sheriff and his men studied Danziger. Big folks were dangerous when riled. Danizger was a *big* man. The giant smiled crookedly at Oliver. "Guess not."

The farmer and his friends laughed. The sheriff slapped Danziger on the back. "Don't feel bad. It's a hereditary talent."

Walman followed Danziger's example, willing his guts to continue peristalic motion downward. He'd sure hate to lose that dinner.

Time passed in silence. The smokers enjoyed their after dinner pipes more than usual. Muggermun finally tapped his pipe against a stone, jarring the ash loose.

"Guess we'd best get down to business. No need to keep the Law longer than necessary," he said, rising and walking slowly toward the vehicles.

The Law carefully examined the outlandish conveyances. A deputy removed a wheat stalk and a couple of heads (of wheat) from the ATV. He showed them to the sheriff. "Evidence."

"We aren't denying it," said Danziger.

"You freely admit to vandalizing Muggermun's wheat?" The sheriff rubbed the grain between his fingers. "Almost ready for harvest."

"Three or four days," agreed the farmer.

"Shame. Well--" he looked up at the towering Danziger. "Sit down." He pointed a finger at Walman. "You, too."

The men sat crosslegged on the ground.

"You're willing to make restitution?" the sheriff asked importantly, strutting before the two giants.

"What kind of restitution?" responded Danziger.

The sheriff looked at Muggermun, who said, "They ain't got much I could use, except strong backs."

The sheriff said to Danziger, "Labor."

"Could you be more specific?" requested Walman.

"There's a lot of hay needs storing in the barn. With the pair of you helping, we can have it done by nightfall!" Muggermun grinned broadly, rubbing his calloused hands together in delight.

"Sounds fair," said Walman.

"Looks like the situation is under control," said the sheriff.

"Thank you kindly, Sheriff," said the farmer, shaking his (sheriff's) hand.

After liberating his hand from the enthusiastic Muggermun, the lawman turned to Danziger and Walman, still seated on the ground. He spoke to them paternally. "Now, fellows, no more riding over folks' cropland, right? Take the road. Get your caravan on the *road* thru our lands. That's what we make them for. Not everyone is as kind as Muggermun, here. Some in the area would want you jailed, and some would want you stripped and flogged. Now, you wouldn't like that, would you? I thought not."

The Law left, walking up the road. They chatted as they went. A word or two, and guffaws, told Danziger and Walman the story of their attempt at smoking would be repeated over beer and ale that evening. Probably several evenings.

"Jimmy, Horace, Oliver, come on. Gentlemen, I'll show you what to do." With that, Muggermun strode purposefully toward the barn.

Haystraw has a wonderful fragrance. Hay makes picturesque haystacks (the ideal hiding place for sewing notions), bedding for livestock and farmhands, and fodder when the grass is gone and the silage is used up. However, it delights in wriggling bits of itself down socks, under collars, up sleeves, into underwear, etc. Microscopic bits have an affinity for noses and mouths.

Muggermun and Jimmy, Horace, and Oliver were quite happy to have the big folks helping. A two day job was done in a matter of hours. The farmer stood admiring the barn, hayloft nearly filled now.

"Are you settling anywhere nearby?" he asked Danziger. "Can't live nowhere within our borders, of course, but there's rich land to be had alongside them. I'd like having you for neighbors."

"I don't doubt it," Danziger replied. He gulped another cup of water, trying to wash the dust and grime from his throat.

The farmer laughed and cuffed Danziger's aching lower back. Danziger stifled a groan.

"No, I'm afraid we're not. We're headed west, to New Pacifica."

"Never heard of it. Old wives' tales do tell of the wanderlust in big folks, so I have heard of *it*. Must be a real strong drive, to keep you pushing past good land. 'Course, there's other real strong drives." He winked and laughed. "That dear Magus, she needs fattening up, but she's sweet on you. I saw that right off." Muggermun slapped his thighs, laughing delightedly. "After she's had the first baby, she'll plump out for you. Sometimes a woman's body needs a nudge."

Walman trailed along with the farmhands behind Muggermun and Danziger back to the hillhome. All the while, the farmer, who had nearly eight children, gave Danziger advice on courting Magus, and after ascertaining she'd never been married, how to make the wedding night as easy as possible for her. Walman flicked the recorder of his gear on. This was too good to lose. The farmhands were all ears; they had no gear, and would have to remember on their own.

Mrs. Muggermun and Magus were sitting on the porch, Mrs. Muggermun in a rocker, Magus on a layer of bedclothes. Most of the daughters were scattered throughout the yard. The toddler Danziger had frightened yawned, fighting sleep in her mother's arms.

"All done, love of my life, all done!" exulted Muggermun. He said to Danziger, "No matter how long you been married, a woman wants to hear sweet nothings. They never outgrow it."

"So soon? Magus, leaving already! And we're just getting to know each other." Mrs. Muggermun's thaw was complete. She was again the openhearted lady Mr. Muggermun had married.

"Yes, it's been nice talking to you." Magus delicately touched the tip of the toddler's nose. The little one giggled and turned away, hiding her face against her mother's breast. She could probably have hidden her entire self in her mother's cleavage.

"One day you'll have children of your own," Mrs. Muggermun assured her.

"I hope so. Thank you for everything." Magus rose and started into the yard.

Mrs. Muggermun accompanied her to the vehicles. "If you are ever in the area again, do stop by and see us."

"And eat you out of house and home again?"

"Ah, that was nothing," pshawed 'the wife'. "I'd cooked a bit extra for tomorrow, and I still have tomorrow to cook for tomorrow."

"You really are gracious hosts," complimented Magus sincerely.

"Gracious? Why, that's just ordinary everyday hospitality! But speaking of grace, it won't hurt you a bit to give thanks for your meals."

"I know," smiled Magus. "I'll try to remember."

"It's habit as much as anything," said Mrs. Muggermun.

"I suppose it is."

"Are you women going to jabber until dawn?" cried Mr. Muggermun. He'd given the men directions to camp via the road. At least, he thought, from the description of the area, that's where the camp was. "That's all they do, yammer, yammer, yammer, all day long. And I got a houseful of 'em. Man can't hardly get a word in edgewise."

"I know how you feel," commented Danziger dryly. He and Walman were already seated, ready to get back to camp and clean up. The hay bits caused itches in some uncomfortable places.

Magus impulsively leaned down and hugged her new, and not to be seen again, friend. The friend, once released, daubed at the corners of her eyes with the tail of her apron. The toddler riding on her hip looked up at her mom, puzzled.

They were ready to roll when one of the older daughters trotted up to Magus, a largish wooden box in her hands. "Could you give this to True? I feel like I know her, from listening to you talk. So I'm sure she'll like it."

"Yes, thank you. I'm sure she will," said Magus. She took the box, which wasn't so large in her hands, and set it on the seat behind her.

"Could you hold it in your lap, please? It's fragile."

"Oh, sure." Magus carefully picked up the box and settled it in her lap.

In a flurry of waves and goodbyes, the Edenites left. Magus looked back, waving herself, until they turned onto the main road and lost sight of the farmer and his family.

The drive home, on the road except for a few miles thru what certainly *was* wasteland, was mostly uneventful. The one noteworthy happening:

"What's in the box, Magus?" asked Walman.

"It's a gift for True."

"Can you open it without her knowing?"

"Walman!" Still, Magus checked it out. The box wasn't sealed or tied shut. There were a few holes in it. Very carefully, very slowly, Magus tilted the lid of the box up. Luminous round eyes shone at her.

"Mew."

-The End-