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.
Matchmaker by Deb2
Story Notes:
Thanks to Vicky, who must get by on next to no sleep. How else could she critique reams of fanfic, write her own *long* stories, care for the Horde, work, and still have something resembling a life? At least, I assume she has a life.
Hope you find this enjoyable.
Deb2
Hope you find this enjoyable.
Deb2