Up-Time Pride and Down-Time Prejudice

by Mark H. Huston

  She was caught off guard when she rounded the corner, and found Johann stripped to the waist, in the cool misting rain, unloading heavy equipment from a wagon. She knew instantly it was Johann, and thought briefly about dashing back around the corner before anyone could see her, but with Maria behind her, it would have resulted in an awkward and noticeably embarrassing collision. Despite her brief panic, Mary smiled involuntarily as she recognized Johann, and her stomach tightened in a most curious fashion; she registered the feeling with a combination of surprise and pleasure. Of course it was pleasure, she thought to herself, just look at him. She was aware of Maria next to her, letting out a poorly suppressed pleasurable gasp.

  The men were wrestling with a wooden crate that took up most of the wagon bed. The wagon looked like a copy of a 19th century buck-board, only with very heavy axles and wheels. Two men were in the wagon working with large pry bars, and overhead there was a set of sturdy wooden beams, with block and tackle arrangements and a maze of ropes running back and forth to pick the crate up and off the wagon. Johann was at the center of the affair, pulling with all of his strength on the rope, his arms and back muscles straining at the effort, dark hair, damp from the misting rain, and moisture highlighting his muscles. The crate elevated slightly from his effort, and the men jumped off the wagon and pulled it forward, mud clinging to their boots and the wheels. Johann eased the crate down to a smaller cart that was rolled under it, his body straining.

  Mary watched as he lowered the crate gently to the new cart. She had never really noticed his physique; he was built rather like an up-time baseball player, athletic but not muscle-bound. She nodded. Yup. More baseball than football lineman. She was still aware of that tension in her stomach.

  One of the men who had moved the wagon dashed over to help Johann with the rope, and the crate landed gently on the cart. Johann and the other man looked at the cart to make sure the crate had landed properly, and then there was a moment of fellowship and congratulations on the successful job. They had obviously been working hard for a while to get the crate offloaded, and there was a distinctly male sense of comradeship for a moment as each man dusted off their pants, scraped mud from their boots, and began to put shirts back on. One of the men saw Mary and Maria standing by the shed, and motioned to Johann. His head snapped around, and his posture went straight. He hastily began to put on his shirt, tugging it over his slightly damp head.

  Mary blinked out of her reverie, and mentally admonished herself for staring. Their eyes met before his shirt went over his head. Once again, running away crossed her mind, while he wasn’t looking with his head in his shirt, she might be able to disappear. But that thought went away as his head popped through his collar, and he was looking at her once more. She looked away, realizing with horror that she had not spoken to Johann since she had turned down his marriage proposal back at the Schloss. The tension in her stomach changed from pleasant to dread.

  Of course, she had been thinking about Johann, and his proposal, since shortly after that day in the Hapsburg room at the Schloss. She had put it off for a while as she worked with Leopold and his diagnosis, but that distraction ended soon enough. Her discussion with Raphael had helped her to understand where Johann was coming from. Regina had brought it up a couple of times, but very obliquely, and Mary had chosen not to continue that discussion with her. It was too awkward, and too political. She had no desire to get Johann into trouble with the family, if indeed he had broken the rules with them. So, other than Raphael, she had kept her own counsel in the matter. Of course she had been flattered to no end about the proposal, and while she didn’t not like Johann, she wasn’t overly fond of him either. He was prideful, to the point of arrogance. But she had also seen him do things that were truly noble. He was rigid and formal. But was still somewhat charming at the dance. He was full of contradictions, and she was busy. Very busy. Too busy for this sort of nonsense. And yet, here he was, standing in front of her, slightly damp, smelling of maleness and rope and machine oil. He bowed stiffly from the waist, and she curtsied. There was a pause.

  “Johann, I—”

  “Mary, I—”

  Mary smiled, and Johann looked slightly horrified.

  “Mary, —”

  “Johann, —”

  This time they both laughed a little. Johann held out his hand and bowed slightly. “Ladies first.” Some of his stiffness melted away, as if he were consciously forcing himself to relax.

  Mary laughed a small nervous laugh, that she wished she hadn’t. She wanted to talk to Johann, and she was more nervous about the conversation than she realized. “Thank you, Johann. It was a, umm, pleasure, er rather, a surprise to find you here. I thought you were in Augsburg.”

  “I was near Augsburg, at the dynamo shop. We just unloaded the new one.” He stepped aside to allow a view of the heavy crate being pushed into the electrical shed. “We had some issues with insulation on the windings on the prototype, and we found it was easier to send a new design than to ship the first one back and rebuild it. Which we will eventually do, once the problems are discovered. The ‘bugs worked out’.”

  “How soon before it’s on-line?” she asked.

  “We are hoping we can get it changed out tonight, and back on-line tomorrow.” He stood with his hands behind him, straight and square.

  “Good, good.” she replied. There was an awkward pause. Mary searched for something to say. She looked at Johann, his hair was damp and falling into his face. His linen shirt clung to him. “You should get dried off, before you catch a cold.”

  “I will in a moment.” He brushed his hair away, and swiped his hand across his face to clear the moisture. Mary suppressed an impulse to grab her handkerchief and dry his face for him. He glanced to the sky. “The weather is changing, it will be snowing soon.”

  “I suppose it snows early here in the mountains.”

  “Yes. Yes it does. Certainly by the end of September.” He nodded sagely, as one does when talking about the weather. “No later than the first of October.”

  There was another pause, this one a bit longer than the first. Maria nudged her. Mary had forgotten she was there. “Mistress, remember Herr Trufer was waiting for us in the office? He sent for you?”

  Mary blinked a couple of times. She had been on her way to see Trufer, and seeing Johann had totally blanked it out of her mind. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Damn. “Yes, yes of course, Maria. Thank you for reminding me.” She turned to Johann, who now looked crestfallen. “We must go, Johann. It was nice to see you again.”

  He bowed to her. “It was a pleasure to see you again.”

  She curtseyed in return. “And a pleasure to see you again.”

  They both stood for a moment. Awkwardly. Again. Neither of them wanting to go. He hesitated, then turned. She took a half step back.

  “Johann!” Mary thought she spoke a little too loudly. He pivoted.

  “Yes, Mary?” He stood two paces from her, and he looked like a sad, damp, expectant puppy, his tail poised motionless, between wagging and drooping, at whatever her next words would be.

  Mary swallowed. “We need to talk.” She watched as he heard her words. Simple words, saying so much. Promising much. His face told her that he was choosing to interpret her simple words as a positive.

  He nodded his head in a slow affirmative. “We should talk. Yes, yes, we should. I would like that.”

  “We left things, well, rather awkwardly. And you ran off to Munich.”

  “Yes.”

  There was another pause as they looked at each other.

  “Thank you for what you did for Regina, Johann,” Mary said. “It was very brave of you to go into that prison.” She swallowed, mouth dry. Why was she so nervous? Damn this man!

  At that point, one of the workers from the electric shop came up to Johann and stood behind him at a respectful distance. Close enough to let him know he was there, but far enough not to impose himself into the conversation. It was a man Mary
had already worked with, a very bright technician by the name of Georg Halske. He cleared his throat.

  Johann turned to him. “Yes, Georg?”

  “My apologies for the interruption.” He bowed to Mary and Maria, then turned to Johann. “We are uncrating the coil, and we have some questions.”

  Johann turned back to the girls. “It seems I am needed.” He looked a Mary with a peculiar expression of hope. “We will talk later?”

  “Of course.”

  He bowed and left with Halske. Mary took a deep breath. “We should go see Trufer.”

  As the day went on, the weather went from misting and rainy to a drizzle, and then to freezing rain that put a coating of ice over everything. And then it rained some more. Mary was not looking forward to trudging up the hill to Schloss Tratzberg in the slick miserable weather. So arrangements were made. They were to stay at the Fuggerhouse in town for the evening, in order to avoid the trip back up the hill under less than ideal conditions. When the clouds would part on occasion, she could see the beginnings of snow in the higher elevations, as the ever-changing vistas of the Alps offered a hint of what she would see soon for the winter. The air smelled different; colder, with pine and a hint of snow, along with mud and horses.

  Towards evening, Mary was sitting with Maria in a small meeting room to the side of the boiler plant, a candle lit against the gloom. She studied the drawings for the new dynamo while Maria sewed by the same candle light. There was a knock on the door, and one of the workmen she recognized stuck his head into the room.

  “Fraulein Russo?”

  “Yes?”

  “They told me that Johann Franz wants to see you out behind the coal pile.”

  Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. The coal pile was out behind the farthest shed, nearer the Inn River, where some of the coal was brought in. It was a several minutes walk, and the furthest point of the mine property. In the rain and the mud. She sighed. “The coal pile?”

  “That’s what they said.” The man shrugged apologetically.

  “Who said this?”

  “It was one of the new guys that just came in from Augsburg, I think.”

  Mary creased her brow and looked at Maria, who looked back. Mary mouthed the word ‘Johann?’ to her chambermaid, who shrugged innocently back to her, with a look that said ‘You won’t know until you go there’ with a smile.

  Mary rolled her eyes playfully at her chambermaid and turned to the messenger. She was now much more judicious about eye rolling, and had to use it sparingly and more in private. It was a struggle. “Very well, thank you for letting me know.” Mary stood, putting her papers into her uptime backpack that she had tucked under the table. Maria stood too, and started to put on her shawl. “That’s okay Maria, I can make it to the coal pile by myself. Stay here where it’s a little bit warmer and dry.” And assuming it was Johann, she could have a little privacy to talk. Maria raised an eyebrow at her, asking if she was sure, and Mary smiled back, nodding. “I’m sure. No sense in both of us getting cold and wet. I’ll be back soon.”

  She left the office with the boiler worker, and he returned to the boiler house, pointing her toward the path to the coal pile. It was now almost fully dark, and she took a small lantern from the boiler house to light her way. It was a smaller lamp, a copy of a 19th century design that used a wick and oil that was extracted locally from oil shale, mined up the mountainside near the Achensee. This lamp was a rough functional one, made of tin for the bowl and glass for the chimney. The oil could be poured into the tin bottom by unscrewing a large cap on the top.

  The rain had let up somewhat by now, down to a slow misty drizzle that brought back memories of Halloween as a kid. She could see her breath in the cold and damp. The path was covered with crushed stones, a byproduct of the mine that made a good walking path material. She trudged through the rain, wondering why Johann had chosen this time to talk, when they could have gotten together almost any other time. Somewhere warm, and dry preferably. But it was private out there, and maybe he didn’t want servants eavesdropping. She was fairly certain they had been overheard at Schloss Tratzberg, given that everyone else seemed to know what was talked about.

  With a light wrap over her head, she held it closed with one hand and the lantern in front of her. There was a small gate that led to the enclosure for the coal repository, and she went through it and held the lantern in front of her. She didn’t see anyone. “Hello? Johann?” There was a small flat area where wheelbarrows were loaded and taken down the path to the boiler house, and another area where the coal was broken down to consistent sizes by laborers. Tools and wheelbarrows lay against a shed for the night, and the ground was black with coal dust for as far as she could see, in her small circle of yellow light. A lantern glowed in the window of the shed. The coal and the tools glistened under the thin coating of ice and rain. “Johann, are you there?”

  A tall, angular man stepped out from behind the tool shed, and into her pool of light, startling her. She went tense, grasping the lantern. Her fingers were cold.

  “Good evening, Mary. My apologies if I startled you.” He looked familiar. Something about the way he tugged at his sleeves, and his voice. She forced herself to relax. Since the ball and the incident with the assholes from Jenbach, she had been quick to judge, quick to tense up. She fought that reaction now. After all, he wasn’t a complete stranger, but she didn’t think he was a Fugger employee either. She struggled to place him.

  “Good evening.” She glanced around briefly, looking for Johann. She turned her attention to the man. “Pardon me, I know we have met before, but I don’t remember your name. I've met so many new people lately.”

  The man took a step closer. “I am sure you have. We met at the Schloss.” He tilted his head towards the north, across the river. “At the ball. Ernst Hocholting, at your service.” He bowed formally and smiled rather oddly.

  Her mouth went dry. He was creepy. She fought with herself, resisting the alarm bells going off in her head, and consciously struggled with the immediate and vivid impression that she was under threat. She had been fighting those feelings for over a month, and she didn’t want them to come back again. There was no reason for that, was there? And yet, here those feelings were. Big as life. Threat. She shouldn’t feel that way, not here, not on Fugger property. Think, girl. She remembered Hocholting. He had been invited to the ball by Hieronymus and had asked about dewatering mines, and he left in a rush when Johann began to question him. There was something about him… Oh Hell!

  Mary switched the lantern to her left hand, and used her right to go to her skirt, the movement natural as she curtsied to his bow. She didn’t lower her eyes, as she slid her hand into the slit in the side of her skirt. Her Smith &Wesson was not in an actual pocket, but in a cloth bag that she tied around her waist under her skirt. It was almost the same thing as a regular pocket, but not nearly as easy to get things into or out of. Plus the revolver had a four inch barrel. It was not designed for a quick draw out of a bag, with skirts and petticoats, by any stretch of imagination. Because there were always guards around. Because there should always be time if it was needed. She knew nobody could hear her scream this far out from the boiler plant, and the noise of the plant would cover it anyway. As subtly as she could, she began to dig around in her skirt.

  “Ah, yes!” She smiled at him, keeping eye contact. “Herr Hocholting.” She fought to keep her voice even and pleasant. “We met at the ball, of course. Did you find your mining equipment?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

  “How nice for you. Have you seen Johann Franz? I was supposed to meet him out here for some reason. I can’t imagine what is keeping him, and my chambermaid is right behind me. She follows me everywhere…” Mary knew she was chattering, rushing, fighting panic.

  Hocholting put his finger to his lips. “Shhhh, Mary. There is nobody here. Johann is not coming.” He looked over her shoulder at something. Mary turned around and was faced with two burly men, in
heavy work clothes, each one at least as tall as herself. They had moved behind her, too quiet for her to notice. The one to her right took a step closer, and shook his head in the negative, to Hocholting. “And nobody else is coming,” Hocholting added. “You are coming with us, as my patron is very interested in acquiring an up-timer. He was most insistent after what happened in Munich.”

  The rain fell lightly around them, while heavier accumulated drips ran off of the shed roof, making small splashing noises on the icy ground. Ice coated everything. Mary could just hear the rattle and hiss of the boiler plant faintly in the distance. It was very quiet. She threw the lantern at the nearest man, and it splashed against his raised forearm, sending burning oil everywhere. She had quietly unscrewed the cap with her finger. He cursed in pain as she ran past him, the heat from the rising blaze singeing her face, and her hand still digging in her skirt for the bulky revolver.

  Chapter 24 Gunfight at the Coal Corral

  Maria liked sewing. Her mother taught her how at an early age, and as soon as her fingers were able to hold a needle and thread, she had been stitching and repairing fabrics. She knew she didn’t have the talent like the dressmaker in the village, Frau Mothwurth. But she could at least construct things well. After Mary left the little hut that served as an office and workroom for Herr Trufer, Maria took out her small sewing basket that she carried nearly everywhere, adjusted the candle to her side of the table under the window, and began to mend a pair of what Mary called “athletic socks.” Maria wanted to catch what little light was left before it was fully dark. The fabric was fascinating, so soft and stretchy, and the way the heel was made was truly ingenious. Up-timers were so clever. Maria knew that Mary wore this style stocking with her up-time work boots, which she was wearing today. The boots were rugged, but so very comfortable.

  Mending for a while, the light began to fade. She had finished one sock and was starting on the second when the door to the hut opened and Johann Franz walked in, along with Jacob Bertran, the young protégé of Stadelmeier. The open door let the colder moist air drift into the warm room. They both removed their floppy single-feather hats, water dripping from the brims. Bertran had spare cloaks over his arm, and both men wore heavy winter cloaks and their doublets against the rain and cold.