Matchmaker by Deb2

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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-

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