by Eric Flint
Johan was leading the ram. Flo looked at it again and sighed. She was sure it was a good enough ram for this time and place. She was also sure she didn’t want the scraggly thing anywhere near her Merinos.
Time for a small demonstration, she decided.
Johan had some English. Flo’s German was limited, even though she was trying to improve it. She still hadn’t been able to explain the problem clearly. Her own German was limited, but she was trying to improve it. After coaxing one of the ewes to come near, Flo undid the ties of the coat that protected the precious wool. She watched as Johan’s face changed from confusion over the sheep coat to curiosity and then to sheer pleasure as he buried his hands in the luxurious wool.
“Do you see what I mean now, Johan? These are the only type C Delaine Merinos in the world. I’m not going to breed them to just any ram that’s available. Compared to these sheep, that ram of yours might as well be a brillo pad with legs. You can see the difference in the wool.
“Merino sheep were used to improve the wool of nearly every breed of sheep in the world. There’s no reason we can’t improve the sheep of Germany in the here and now, but my rams are too young to breed successfully. Spain has around three million Merino sheep. We need a better ram, one with some Merino blood. Do you understand now?”
Johan was smiling as he stood up. “Yes, Flo, I understand better now. We need a better ram, we must find a way to make them understand. We must not waste this chance. I help. We will convince Willie Ray. Must have better ram, must.”
Flo smiled. Finally, an ally. With Johan’s help and experience, maybe she could finally get a breeding program to improve the wool breeds, as well as the meat breeds.
“Fine, Johan, fine. I’m really glad to hear that. We’ll work on it together. Now, since you enjoyed that wool so much, let’s go look at the rabbits.”
“Rabbits? Vermin. Must get rid of , before they damage crops.” Johan appeared to be ready to go on a rabbit hunt that very moment.
“Not these rabbits, Johan. They’re not your average pest. Though I’m not sure how much use they are, to tell the truth. Come see.”
As they walked to the bunny barn, Flo continued to explain. “These are English angora rabbits, Johan. They couldn’t possibly survive in the wild. Their own wool would cause their deaths.”
“Rabbits do not grow wool, Flo.”
Flo grinned as they approached the first cage. “These rabbits do grow wool, Johan. They take a good bit of work, but their wool is very warm and soft. Take a look.”
Johan stood in stunned surprise as Flo took one of the does from her cage. The rabbit was covered with long, soft hair, which could be gently plucked from the rabbit without harm. As Flo demonstrated the technique, she continued to watch Johan’s face.
“So tell me, Johan,” she asked, “do you think there’s a market for this, too?”
* * *
“Flo,” said Anna, “I have question.”
“Sure, Anna, what’s up?” asked Flo as she watched Anna sit down. It was the first time Anna had ever sat in her presence without an invitation.
Flo had begun to wonder if Anna would ever get over the tendency to treat her as the lady of the manor. The constant deference had made Flo really uncomfortable for the first week or so. Finally, in desperation, she’d let Anna in on her secret vice, the hidden stash of Folgers coffee. That had sent Anna into fits of giggles and had seemed to even the ground between them. Anna had relaxed around Flo and had been opening up ever since.
“I have sister, Flo. Is married to Wilhelm Schmidt, five Kinder. Are in camp still. Is hard, so many Kinder. Maybe come here with us? All will work, und boys be help with sheep. Johan not want to ask, but Ilsa wants home again. We all work, Flo, und, und . . .”
Anna’s English had failed her, but Flo had the gist of it now.
“You don’t think five more kids will be too crowded, Anna?”
“Nein, nein. Is big beds, much, much room. We be fine. I want Ilsa close, und you and Johan keep boys busy. Truly, Flo, is goot.” Anna seemed very concerned that Flo might object, but as long as Anna was happy, Flo could be happy.
“Anna, it’s fine. As long as you don’t mind the crowding, I don’t mind them moving in. You already have the house in wonderful shape. I can’t imagine what the two of you will accomplish when Ilsa get here.”
Anna was a wonder, as far as Flo was concerned. Six kid, ages ranging from about fourteen to the baby, who looked to be about six months old, and all the kids toed the line far, far better than the average up-time child. Anna and Johan’s discipline seemed a bit harsh to Flo, but she wasn’t going to interfere. The kids would be starting school when it resumed; time enough for the up-time kids to try and ruin them then.
“How is search for ram going, Flo?” Anna was concerned because Johan was concerned. Flo knew that Johan and Anna had discussed the sheep project in detail. Anna, after a demonstration of the difference in wool softness, followed by a visit to Flo’s angora bunnies, had joined in enthusiastically. “Will we use Brillo, after all?”
Flo grinned at that question. Her undiplomatic remark had resulted in the nickname. Johan had later asked what a brillo pad was. Johan had proved to be a good-humored sort. After a demonstration of a brillo pad, he’d laughed uproariously. They’d all been calling the poor ram “Brillo” ever since.
Even J.D. had joined in the search for a ram, although with some reluctance. Flo had caught him giving her some thoughtful looks lately. Johan’s support had made a difference in J.D.’s attitude toward the sheep.
“Flo, Flo, are you in there?” Anna asked, grinning herself.
Flo jerked back to reality and smiled over at Anna. “Sorry, Anna, I got lost in my thoughts again.” She laughed. “We’ll use Brillo if we have to. He’s certainly a strong, hardy critter. If the Ring of Fire has thrown the sheep out of cycle, it will be good to have him around. Whatever we can do to spread the Merino strain will help. I’d still rather have a ram with some Merino blood, just for the wool quality. We still have some time before fall. Maybe someone will make it through the armies, yet.”
“Well, we all have things to do,” Anna said, “I’m going to clean the attics today. I will leave you to your own work. You will use the telephone, und call for Ilsa und Wilhelm? Today, Flo?”
“Yes, Anna, I’ll call right now. They’ll probably be here in a few hours. Do you need any help?” Flo always asked, and Anna always refused, just as she did today. Flo had begun to think that she just got in Anna’s way. She’d decided to stand aside and let Anna go at it. The woman was amazing. If those bozos down at the 250 Club had any idea what they were missing, Flo mused, they’d be standing in line, begging for German houseguests.
Flo called the administrators of the refugee camp and arranged for Wilhelm, Ilsa and their kids to be given the news and started on their way out to the farm. The administrators were very careful to get the right relations these days. A few mix-ups had caused them to get the original village name, before they asked for people by name. The names Johan and Anna were as common here as the names John and Ann had been up-time. No one wanted any more confusion.
“Well, a few more people won’t make that much difference here. I wonder what Wilhelm and Ilsa went through, getting to Grantville?”
The German population had amazing resilience. The war rolled over them, they grabbed what they could and started over. The war rolled over them again, and they started over again. When they reached Grantville, and were convinced of their relative safety, they dug in with a vengeance, determined to succeed and prosper. While many families had arrived with little more than the clothes on their backs, others had saved the most astounding things. A few chickens here, a ram or an ox there, a few family heirlooms, a few coins sewn into a child’s frock. They’d saved anything they could.
It was almost as amazing to Flo as the weird things that had value now. Who would have thought that things like jelly jars, coffee cans with plastic lids, even old may
o jars, could be so valuable?
Flo shook her head in wonder. She’d heard her parents’ rhyme—
Use it up, wear it out
Make it do or do without
—so many times as a child that frugality was ingrained in her nature. She had washed and saved any container with a lid just from force of habit. There was a shelved area of the basement where she’d stored box after box of jelly glasses, mayo jars, canning jars, coffee cans, and whatever else she felt might be useful someday. J.D. had teased her about her saving ways for years. Flo hadn’t listened. She’d continued to save things. Old clothes, diapers, plastic pants, baby bottles, sheets, towels—if it wasn’t in the basement, it was in a cedar chest or a box in the attic.
Anna’s excitement when she’d started cleaning the basement was contagious. Knowing her own limitations in the art of bargaining, Flo let Johan or Anna handle that part. If a German noble wanted a set of Flintstone jelly glasses to serve wine in, that was fine with Flo. Johan and Anna would make sure he paid very well for the privilege.
* * *
Johan had been a bit insulted when Flo had suggested watching the shearing video. “I know how to shear a sheep, Flo,” he’d objected. “Do you think I know nothing?”
“Johan, I’m sure you’ve sheared plenty of sheep in your lifetime. Have you ever done it with electric shears?” Flo had asked.
The mention of electric anything was a conversation stopper. His interest piqued, Johan joined Flo in front of the TV to view the video of New Zealand shepherds and shearers at work. They viewed it three times before he was confident of his ability to adapt.
* * *
Flo and Johan arrived at the shearing shed together. Johan checked the shears, turning them on and off until he was comfortable with the sound.
None of Flo’s ewes was especially rambunctious. They’d been sheared before, after all. Even so, Flo chose an especially mellow ewe for Johan’s first attempt at electric shearing.
Johan had paid serious attention to the video, Flo noticed. After a couple of nervous false starts, he began rolling the fleece off the ewe as though he’d been doing it all his life. Which he had, of course, now that Flo thought about it. The electric shears just made it go faster.
A couple of small nicks, easily treated, a check for foot rot, hoof trimming and worming and the ewe bounced away. Johan had very few problems, even with the unfamiliar shears, and they were finished very soon. Flo had sorted the fleeces as Johan had sheared. Even in coats, there was some dirt involved in the process and the heavy lanolin in the fleece made Flo feel greasy.
“Johan, we’ve both got things to do. If I don’t get a shower, I won’t be responsible for my temper.”
“Ja, Flo. I will check that meine Kinder have finished their work. Sheep, they seem well.” Johan seemed eager to get on with his other work.
“We’ll have to come up with a way to clean that fleece. I’ll think about it. Maybe the old wash boiler. My grandmother used to use it, along with that old wringer Anna found in the basement. I’ll need to check the rollers. I don’t remember if they were rubber or wood. It may come in handy. Never thought I’d have to use it. I just kept it, like that old glass churn my mother used to use. Sentimental value, then. Much more practical value now.” Flo grinned as she walked away. “Anyway, I can’t think when I feel like an oil slick. See you in a while.”
* * *
Standing in the shower, under the pounding hot water, Flo gave into the depression she’d been feeling all day. The delay in shearing the sheep had been caused by her last few weeks with Jennifer, before Jen had returned to school for the summer semester.
She knew she was lucky to have kept three of her children, but she missed Jen so much. She was Flo’s youngest, and the closest to her. The other girls had their own families and their own lives. Jen was still Flo’s. She’d encouraged her to buy the sheep, because she knew Flo needed something to care for. She missed her so much.
Flo forced herself to turn her thoughts away. Jen had always been self-sufficient. She would manage and succeed, even without Flo and J.D. Flo held that thought as she began drying off.
As she dressed, Flo noticed how soft her skin felt. She still had shampoo, bought on sale and stored, but there hadn’t been a good sale on bath soap. Her stock was low on that commodity. They were saving the gentle soaps for the babies, to keep them from skin irritations. The Ring of Fire had put paid to her usual practice of stocking up on soap.
“Wait a minute, soft skin, lye soap, lanolin—that’s the difference! The lanolin in the sheep fleece. We can’t just destroy it. There has to be a way to recover it and use it. Soap, lotion, didn’t I read something somewhere about surgery? I’ve got to do some research. Soap making, lotions, what else?” Flo threw her clothes on, ready to start another project.
She stopped and finished buttoning her shirt. “I’d better not go running out of here half dressed. The Schmidts could be here any minute. Coffee. I need coffee. I always think better with coffee.”
* * *
Naturally, they would get there while she was in the shower. In the middle of the day, yet! A little embarrassed, Flo extended her hand to greet Wilhelm and Ilsa Schmidt.
“We are pleased to be here,” said Wilhelm. “I know Johan und Anna well. We work well together. You will be pleased.”
“I’m happy to have all of you,” said Flo. “It may get a bit crowded, but we’ll manage. Wilhelm, Johan, I know you have things to talk about. Johan and I discussed our plans earlier, so I’ll let him explain. Ilsa, Anna, let’s go up and get the rooms arranged to suit you.”
As the three women and the children went upstairs, Flo heard Anna and Ilsa speaking rapid-fire German. Too rapid for her to understand, but apparently the room arrangement was settled before they hit the top step. Anna began directing traffic and Flo noticed that the boys were at one end of the hall and the girls at the other. Both sets of parents were in the middle. They were going to have to have a talk about what could and could not go down a toilet, she thought. Two bathrooms and fifteen people could be a nightmare on the septic system. She didn’t even want to think about what could happen when the toilet tissue ran out.
“Fifteen people,” she muttered to herself, “eleven of them children, me and J.D. Feeding this crew isn’t going to be a picnic either. It’s a good thing I did all that canning last year. And that sale on hamburger. Boy, am I glad I took advantage of that one. We need to do an inventory and some planning. Tonight, though, I wonder if this crew has ever had spaghetti? It’s easy for a crowd.”
Wrapped up in thoughts, plans and concerns, Flo left Anna and Ilsa to their arrangements and went down to the freezer. Spaghetti sauce for seventeen people would still take a lot of hamburger.
* * *
The spaghetti, salad and bread seemed to be a hit. At any rate, there wasn’t going to be a leftover problem in the Richards-Sprug-Schmidt household.
For once, being a packrat had paid off. Everyone had a few changes of clothes, although underwear was limited. The females had at least one pair of jeans or overalls for heavy work, although Anna and Ilsa appeared to prefer skirts. They’d get over that eventually, Flo thought. You couldn’t get her back into skirts with an act of Congress.
Clean-up proceeded rapidly. Older children helped the younger, everyone washed their own dishes and placed them in the drying racks. Flo had cooked, so she cleaned the pots and pans, and wiped down the counter and table. It looked like a system that would work.
The children, after a long, exciting day, were drooping in their chairs. All but the four oldest were sent up to bed, with orders to wash up and brush their teeth. The adults and near-adults sat up to discuss their plans for the following days.
“J.D., tomorrow is Sunday. I’ll be going to church. What are your plans?” Flo asked. It was an old arrangement. Flo attended the Methodist church when she could, averaging once or twice a month. J.D. did what J.D did. They’d found that arguing was not productive.
“I’m driving in around ten A.M. to see Mike and Willie Ray. If we’re careful, there’s no reason that everyone can’t fit into the truck and the truck bed. I know you don’t like kids in the truck bed, but Johan and Wilhelm can keep them in line. I’ll go slow. Will that suit everyone? We can meet around four in the afternoon and ride back home together.”
“Sounds like a pretty good plan to me, J.D. It’ll get everyone into town in time for the various services. Is it okay with the rest of you?” Flo asked the Sprugs and Schmidts.
With everyone in agreement, and everyone tired and yawning, they all retired to their rooms and slept.
* * *
“How does anybody wake up that energetic without coffee, especially at the crack of dark?” Flo wondered aloud, trying to hide a yawn.
The Sprugs and Schmidts were up, dressed, breakfasted and had the chores done before she had her eyes open good. “I sometimes think we up-timers are soft, especially on a morning like this.”
Flo had decided that it was time to introduce Anna and Ilsa to crock pots. Deciding on chili and corn bread for supper, she’d thawed more hamburger and was showing them how to set up the crock pots when Anna handed her a cup.
Taking a sip, her eyes widened. Coffee. Blessed, life-reviving coffee. Anna had apparently decided that Flo would need a cup or two and had made a pot for her.
Anna grinned, “I don’t know why you like that stuff, but I know you do. You will need to be awake. So, I made you a pot. We will not tell. Is our secret.”
“Not much of one, Flo. Do you think I could scrounge a cup?” asked J.D. from behind her.
Jumping, Flo turned around. “You devil, you knew all along, didn’t you?” she asked.
“The way you pack-rat? Of course I knew.” He said, “I just figured it made you happy to have that stash, so I let it alone. Don’t worry. I’m not going to give it away. I have enough to handle without you going through caffeine withdrawal on top of it. Besides, I need a cup now and then, myself.” J.D. moved over to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup. “More people than you know have a little stash of this or that. It makes them feel better and does no real harm. If it were antibiotics, it would be a different story.”