by Eric Flint
Now that Garland had recovered himself by getting back on familiar ground, he shook his head and chuckled ruefully. "I still just can't believe that all this spring steel has been there all this time right under our noses."
LeeAnn gave a wicked laugh. "It wasn't under your nose, Garland. It was under your rear end." Garland sank back into the old-fashioned overstuffed chair he favored, now actually noticing the springs creak as he did so, and laughed along with her.
* * *
LeeAnn clutched the Strategic Materials prize certificate in both hands after the award ceremony at the Fourth of July celebration. She'd already tucked the $1,000.00 cash prize into the pocket of her new slacks. Guenther Wendel was one of the first to congratulate her. He was actually beaming with pride for her as he shook her hand. He's not such a bad guy after all, LeeAnn thought. The breeze blew a lock of her carefully brushed hair into her eyes. She smoothed it back into place.
Preston Richards also came up to congratulate her. "You've done a very important thing for all of us, LeeAnn. It's amazing how we can all miss the obvious for so long. I'm glad to see you looking better now. I haven't seen you partake of our 'hospitality' at the jail for a while now either. That makes me even more happy."
LeeAnn glanced down at the beautiful calligraphy on the certificate once more. She had thought the cash prize would be the big thing to come from her discovery, but she was finding that having other people looking at her with approval was much bigger. She was amazed at how much her outlook had changed in the months since she had found the springs, and how good it felt to smile again. Each smile put more warmth into her fight against the inner cold than the booze ever had. "Thanks, Preston. And thank you for trying to help even when I was throwing myself away. I guess this means that you can find something to recycle in every sort of trash."
Old Folks' Music
by Gorg Huff and Paula Goodlett
July 1, 1633
"You reckon we could afford to do something special for the Fourth?" Ella Mae Jones was sipping iced chamomile tea and making faces at it at the same time. "Lord above, I wish a person could afford sugar," she muttered.
Nancy Simmons ignored the comment. Ella Mae was always griping about something. "What do you mean, do something special?"
"Well, you know Huey was born on July seventh." Ella Mae made another face at the tea. "And your boys, well, they all have summer birthdays. I was thinking we might have a barbeque. Smoke some ribs. And the corn is coming in. Corn on the cob. We could spare a few ears for a holiday, couldn't we?" Casting a look at Mildred and Regina, Ella Mae smirked a bit. "Well, for those of us who can eat corn on the cob, I mean."
Regina gritted her false teeth for a moment. "Tastes just as good when you cut it off, Ella Mae. And it's a damn sight easier to eat, too. But I figure we can probably do it. The party, I mean. Sort of combine all the boys into one big shebang. I've been saving up from the canning and I think I have enough green beans to last the winter—I could probably get enough for the extra to buy enough sugar for a cake. A yellow cake, unless one of you is holding out on cocoa."
Ella Mae, Nancy and Mildred shook their heads. "All gone the first winter," Milly mourned. "Bucky drank cocoa like it was going out of style when we couldn't get coffee. I've got a little bit of vanilla left, though. That will do for the frosting, with the cream cheese they're producing now. If we can grind the sugar down to powder, that is."
"We'll find a way." Nancy grinned. "May have to run the blender to bits, but we'll see what we can do. I can't tell you how much I'd like some real frosting, even if we have to use cream cheese instead of Crisco."
* * *
The "boys," not that they could be remotely called boys by anyone but their wives, trudged home from the bus stop, trying not to glare at the boarders.
"Ah, youth," Henry muttered. "Wish to hell I had that kind of energy."
"I wish to hell they could carry a tune in a bucket," Jerry Simmons complained. "At least what we did was music." The boarders and some young friends were experimenting with rap, of all things. In a combination of two different dialects of German and badly accented English. Mixed in was a lot of laughter and not a lot of tune. To be honest, not that much rhythm or rhyme either. The kids weren't all that good.
"Good grief." Bucky looked over at Jerry. "It's been a long time since we played, hasn't it? We all got caught up in all the hoopla . . . I haven't pulled the banjo out of the closet since, well . . ." Bucky's face creased. "Must be six years, now."
"We ought to pull the banjo and the mandolin out for that barbeque the girls are planning." Huey grinned. "Show these boys some real music. You've still got the guitar, don't you, Jer?"
"Might just do that," Bucky said, when Jerry nodded. "Might just do."
* * *
The day of the party was clear and bright. And a great deal of work. A blender can turn granulated sugar into powdered sugar. It can even turn rock sugar into powdered sugar. It's not the best way to go about it, but the girls didn't know that. A blender or food processor is made to cut, not to crush. A mortar and pestle would have probably been less work and certainly used less electricity. Still, they had powdered sugar.
"Out." Ella Mae flapped a dish towel. "Out of the kitchen, all of you." Good grief, she thought. Dealing with all these boarders could be a pain.
"Smells good." Karl, one of the youngest ones, smiled hopefully. "Very good."
"And there will be enough for everyone. Just get out of the kitchen, out from underfoot, please. We'll be eating around five. Until then, out. If you need something to do, you could always weed the garden." Ella Mae laughed as Karl scooted out the door, followed by two more young men, Johan and Peter. "Good boys," she muttered. "Good boys, all of them." She peered out the door to see that all three of them had headed for the shed and taken out hoes. "Work like the devil, even on a holiday."
Ella Mae went back to her cooking, enjoying the sounds of young people laughing at their work. Not that she didn't have plenty of her own work to do. Between them, the four families boarded fifteen of the younger miners. That took a fair bit of cooking. Not to mention all the dishwashing.
* * *
"Drat." Bucky plucked a string. "If this thing was any further out of tune . . ."
Henry grinned. "Shoulda taken better care of it, Buck." His mandolin sounded pretty good, he thought.
Bucky turned the peg a bit tighter, then tried it out. "That's got it."
"What do we remember best?" Jerry plunked at his guitar.
That took some discussing. Titles flew back and forth for a while. Just as they settled, Nancy hollered, "Come and get it."
It was a great meal. The girls had had the boarders set up the picnic tables in a line and used some old sheets for tablecloths. There was much discussion of the merits of sweet and spicy barbeque sauce. Some liked it, some didn't, but the racks of ribs disappeared, along with the pile of corn on the cob. And all the other side dishes.
"Almost like it used to be." Henry rubbed his belly. "All of us, sitting around in the yard. Food that isn't soup."
"And," Ella Mae said, "genuine real birthday cake."
Ella Mae had slipped into the kitchen and back. She stood at Bucky's side, holding her treasured cake plate. "Small slices," she warned. "I only made the one."
More discussion followed, along with the sounds of forks scraping against saucers. Then a certain amount of burping followed the discussion. With a general clean-up afterwards. "Nope." Nancy smiled. "Just this once, since this is your birthday party, you four don't have to help. Just sit on the porch and talk; we'll all take care of it."
Huey settled into his favorite chair. The boys got out the old lawn chairs. "I'm glad we kept these old metal chairs. Lots better than the aluminum framed jobs. That webbing wears out too quick." They grouped the chairs together in the shade and retrieved their instruments. Huey gave his tambourine a shake. He couldn't play anything more complicated, but he had a pretty good voice. Well, at one time,
back in the day. It was getting a bit reedy nowadays.
Bucky strummed for a moment, then began a song. The others, once they figured out what he intended, began to chime in. Huey started singing, and the boarders who weren't on clean up duty drifted closer.
By the time Bucky got to "You told me once, dear, you really loved me," the younger boys were chiming in on the chorus.
"Listen to that." Nancy peeked out the kitchen window. "Not too bad, are they?"
"Sounds good." Johan paused in his dish drying. "We go out, soon? Hear more?"
"When we finish up." Ella Mae wrung out a sponge. "Now that they've got started, they aren't going to run out of steam anytime soon. They never did, once they started the pickin' and grinnin'. That's what started all of this. Hee Haw."
Regina waved at the door. "You all go on. All that's left is the counter wiping, anyway. I always thought it was the girls on Hee Haw, myself. Draped over the porch like they were."
Ella Mae grinned. "That Bucky. He loved that show."
Bucky started in on "Big Rock Candy Mountain," and Regina grinned. "I always did like that one." She started humming along.
The girls finished the clean-up and drifted outside. Ella Mae got there just in time to do the whistle part at the end.
Huey was feeling pretty good. He rattled the tambourine a bit. "Girls, your turn. What song?"
Ella Mae smiled. "You know my favorite." The boys nodded.
"Sure do," Bucky agreed. He started grinning. "Take it, girls."
Ella Mae waited for the intro, "Some bright morning, when this life is o're . . ."
Jerry added is deeper voice for "In the morning." The chorus of male voices caught on to "I'll fly away, Oh glory," real quick.
Bucky, Jerry and Henry really got into it.
* * *
"That was fun." Jerry massaged his fingertips later that night. "More fun than we've had in a while. But my fingers are sore."
Nancy grinned. "Lost all your calluses, did you?"
"Yup."
* * *
"Herr Buckner?" The question came from young Johan.
"Hmm?" Bucky looked over at him.
"You and your friends, you will play the music today?"
"Reckon we could," Bucky said. "Didn't realize you boys liked it that much."
"We like it." Johan nodded. "Much better than Mountaintop, at the Gardens. Is . . . more sound we like. I invite friend, next time."
Bucky had to admit that having all the boys around was kind of fun. The boarders all chipped in with the work. And youngsters had so much energy. "I'll go check with the others. Here, you finish this row." Johan took the hoe and began carefully weeding the row of corn.
* * *
"Johan wants to know if we're going to play tonight, since we're off today."
"Which Johan?" Huey asked. "We've got three of them."
Bucky grinned. "The one that stays in my attic. At least I think he's in my attic. For all I know, he's in yours. These kids run in and out of our houses like they've lived here all their lives."
"I like it." Jerry's face was sad. "It's like having the kids and grandkids back. Sort of."
They grew quiet for a bit. Loss and grief was a familiar feeling to them all. "Anyway." Bucky shrugged off the mood, "Johan liked the music. Asked if we'd do it again. Reckon we could just sit around the yard and play for a while, since they like it."
"Why not?" Henry stood up. "Beats cleaning the chicken house, don't it?"
* * *
It became something of a ritual over the rest of the summer. More of the young miners began showing up, invited by the boarders. They sang along, even. Started bringing girls with them. And refreshments, food. Picnicking under the trees.
"How did we wind up with so many people here?" Nancy asked. "Never imagined anything like this."
"There's about thirty extra," Mildred pointed out. "And they brought stuff. Loaves of bread, cheese. Like they're paying admission."
Regina shook her head. "To hear us and the boys? Who'd have thunk it? We were just messing around, that's all. Never serious about it. Playing."
"Well, they like it." Mildred smiled. "And they're learning the songs. Johan says it helps his English."
"Which Johan?" The question came from three women.
"All of them." Mildred laughed. "And that little weedy one is learning banjo from Bucky. Paying him for lessons by doing Bucky's chores, even."
* * *
"It's getting a little chilly for this." Jerry shivered to demonstrate. "Really chilly."
The late October afternoon was pretty chilly. "We're probably going to have to give this up till spring," Huey said. "It's getting too cold. Hate to disappoint the kids, but we can't keep this up. I'm not good with cold."
* * *
"What?"
"We want to offer you t' gig." The big Scot waved a hand. "Your boarders have told us about you. So we'll pay you to play at t' Gardens. Drinks and a meal. Pass the hat for tips."
"Don't that beat all?" Bucky looked at his group of friends and grinned. "Don't that just beat all?"
* * *
Going "pro," as it were, meant they had to come up with some kind of program. Which caused a good bit of argument.
Regina clattered around the kitchen, practically slamming the cabinet doors. "But I like it. And I don't see why playing it at the Gardens would be a bad thing."
Gospel hadn't ever been Huey's favorite, so he'd suggested losing most of it and just going with the old bluegrass favorites.
"It's still a bar." Huey took a sip of coffee. "I'm just sayin'—"
Jerry put a stop to it, though. "We'll just do it like they used to do on the television shows. They all pretty much had a bit of gospel, near the end, usually."
After that the program fell in line pretty well.
* * *
Mildred gulped when she saw the audience. "I'm all over nervous. All over."
"Buck up there, hon." Bucky grinned at her. "You'll do just fine."
It was an unusual night at the Gardens. Rather quiet, in fact. Right up until the audience started joining in, that is.
Nancy started this one. She began the rhythmic clapping and sang the first line. The rest of the girls followed her. "Go to sleep little baby . . ."
Bucky was up next. Just about brought the house down with his rendition of "Cold, Cold Heart." Of course, he followed up with "Your Cheatin' Heart," which had all the young ones chiming in.
One set followed another. They'd agreed to do four. Regina had been looking forward to the last set all evening. She took a deep breath. "Oh, sisters, let's go down . . ."
The girls did the sisters and mothers lines, while the boy's did brothers and fathers. The whole house was chiming in on the sinners part. Everyone had the melody down by this time.
It worked much the same way for many other tunes. Of course, the miners helped that along a good bit. They'd memorized a lot of them by now.
"Angel Band" was a big favorite. Everyone in the place joined in for "Bear me away on your snow white wings."
"All right." Bucky looked out over the people in the audience. "One last one, folks. Then us and the girls are giving it up for the night. We've got a meal coming, you know." The audience laughed, those that understood it, anyway. "The Old Folks want you all to join in for this one."
Bucky stood back and began the music. Nancy, Mildred, Regina and Ella Mae began. It was another favorite of the younger folks. They all joined in for the "Keep on the Sunnysides," in that one.
* * *
"Every couple of months," Huey agreed. "None of us are getting any younger and we're not up to a lot of this. Same deal, I suppose? Drinks, a meal and pass the hat?"
"Agreed." The Scot extended his hand. "We'll be glad to have you back. Now, enjoy the meal, all of you." He motioned the waitress over to take their orders. "On the house," he told her.
"This was fun." Nancy looked around the Gardens after they ordered. "Never dreamed it would be, b
ut it was."
"I've got so many people wanting lessons," Henry pointed out, "that I could quit the mine and just do that."
"Me, too." Jerry grinned. Bucky nodded agreement. "Same here. And it's a lot more fun than the mine, that's for sure."
"Something to think about," Huey agreed. "Not that I'm a player, but they like the singing, too. It'd keep us busy, right enough."
Nancy, Ella Mae, Regina and Mildred shared a smile.
Mightier than the Sword
by Jay Robison
Magdeburg, Early winter, 1634
Frank Jackson looked out across Magdeburg from the window of his office. Under a blanket of snow, the capital of the months-old United States of Europe looked deceptively tranquil. Underneath the blanket, though, Frank knew there was a dynamic city, still growing, still filling out. A city that was ugly and industrial but beginning to get the sorts of cultural institutions that gave any city, in any time, an indefinable sense of "livability." Frank shook his head. Things like that were for Mary Simpson and her gaggle of grande dames to worry about. Frank focused back on matters military and the grinning face of his commanding officer. It was one of those rare moments when Lennart Torstensson looked as young as his years.
Frank was sure the reason the Swedish general looked so young was because Torstensson had him right where he wanted him and knew it. Frank was still wondering how his simple idea had gotten so complicated. When he'd promised his head of training, Henderson Coonce, that he'd recruit a press officer, Frank never imagined his new superior would take such a shine to the notion. Frank had asked for an inch and been given a mile.
"All I wanted was one press officer. Just to shut Henderson up. The last thing we need is more REMFs!"
Torstensson smiled. Frank had come to truly admire the man. Frank had a head for tactics, but serving under the Swedish general was a revelation. Lennart Torstensson, Frank knew, was a military genius. And Frank was most assuredly not. Above all, Frank Jackson recognized his own limitations and wasn't afraid to say "I don't know" if he didn't know something. The former coal miner suspected that this quality alone made him stand out in comparison with most of the German commanders Torstensson had had the misfortune of working with. It contributed to the good relationship Frank enjoyed with the man.