Finn sounded a little deflated. "Yes, I suppose you're right. She is a quality woman. And why wouldn't a good woman like that be already married? She probably even has babies at home."
Keeping an eye on Finn was a day and night job. No wonder Dieter felt so dour all the time. "Sorry, Finn. I guess you'll have to come up with a new plan tonight. Don't worry, we'll be working on this stretch of road for a least another week or two. You have time for a really good plan."
* * *
Dieter watched his partner carefully through the weekend. Finn spent a lot more time listening than he did talking, something very unusual for him. He and Dieter sat in the tavern, listening to all the gossip. Dieter found him under a tree outside the latrine, listening. One night when Finn didn't come home, Dieter went to search for him, and found him asleep outside the woman's tent.
Sunday afternoon, Dieter was trying to nap when Finn suddenly appeared and sat on his cot. Finn sighed, but didn't say anything. He definitely didn't look like someone who was happy. "So, Finn. Have you devised another plan?"
Finn shook his head. "I have no plan. I haven't found out if she is married, or even if any of the working women are married. Sometimes I've heard them talking about men and husbands. But I never could tell if they were talking about real husbands, or imaginary ones. I really don't understand women at all."
"I've been thinking. Maybe your first plan was the best. Maybe it would be a good idea to take her flowers and strike up a conversation. But I would suggest that you ask her if she wants to go to the tavern for some beer or go for a walk. Don't just come out and ask her to marry you. That'll scare her away right off."
Finn brightened. "Do you really think that will work?"
"I don't see why not."
* * *
Sunday afternoon was a good time for some rest. Most of the girls in the women's tent were sleeping or reading letters. Roz was finishing a letter to her father. She wrote one every Sunday, and put it in the post on Monday morning.
Just as she had sealed the letter and set it aside, she heard a deep voice say, "Hello?"
Elsa went to the door and Roz could still hear the man's voice. "Good afternoon, Elsa. Is Mistress Roselynde in?"
"Roz, someone's here to see you."
"Well, if it's the Dutchman, tell him my last answer still stands. I am not available. I'm washing my hair."
Elsa's smile became a full-blown grin. "It's not the Dutchman. Come see for yourself. I think it's precious."
Elsa held the flap a little wider.
"Elsa, I swear, if you're playing some kind of joke on me, I'll . . ."
Then she saw Finn. He reminded her of a huge forest troll, standing in the doorway with a bunch of flowers. Not that he was ugly like a troll, but he was so huge.
"Good afternoon, Mistress Roselynde. How are you this fine day?" Finn smiled, and Roselynde remembered the day at the beer tun, when she saw all of those teeth for the first time.
Elsa grinned again. "If you throw him back, let me know. I think he's cute."
Roz didn't really know what else to do, so she stepped past Elsa and shooed her away, then reached back and closed the tent flap. Finn looked up from the ground, and held out a bouquet of flowers. It was a little mussed and starting to wilt. "Mistress, these are for you. But they pale next to your beauty."
"How nice. Thank you very much. I need to get these in water. Can you wait here?" When Finn nodded, she stepped back and handed the flowers to Elsa. "Take care of these for me, please? I'm going to be busy the rest of the afternoon. You're in charge of dinner."
Before Elsa could object, or even comment, Roz was back outside the tent, talking to Finn. "Why don't we walk for a little while? What was your name again?"
Finn fell into step beside her. "I'm Finn Kelley O'Donnell, named after my grandfather's younger brother. My mother's one of the Kelleys, so I carry her name myself. My father's from the O'Donnells of Limerick, if you've ever heard of them. Not too well known in these parts, but everyone at home knows what sort of workers the O'Donnells are."
Something in his voice reminded Roz of her own hometown. They fell into conversation as if they had known each other all their lives.
* * *
Late that night, when Finn returned to the crew tent, Dieter was waiting. He wanted to be ready in case someone showed up with a drunken Irishman in hand. But when the tent opened and Finn entered, Dieter could tell that he had not been drinking.
"How did it go? Did you get to talk to her? She didn't slap you, or anything, did she?"
Finn moved across the tent as if he were floating on air. He drifted over, and lay down on his bunk. "Dieter, it was wonderful. She is a fine and beautiful woman."
"Yes, I know that. But what happened. Did you go to the tavern? Did she like the flowers? What did she say?"
Finn sighed, still occupied in his gossamer dreams. "Say? Oh, she said a lot of things. I found out that she was born in Scotland, so she and I are almost kin, the Scots and the Irish being cousins after all. We talked for a long time. We didn't go to the tavern; we sat on the hill behind the cook tent until after dark. And then we walked out by the lake to see the moonlight. She liked the flowers."
There was a moment of silence. Finn relived his encounter, and Dieter imagined what it would have been like. "And Dieter, you're wrong. She's not married. She's working here to support her old, sick father. He was crippled in an accident at the mill, and as she has no brother, she is doing her best for her family. Her father's living in a village near Magdeburg now. She has no fortune, but is an honest working woman."
Dieter was drawn into his partner's recount of his romance. "What about the Dutchman? Is it true that they are engaged to marry?"
Finn sat up at that, looking angry. "It is not. The Dutchman started showing up at her door and pestering her since the day he got here. She doesn't even understand his interest in her. There are a lot of girls who would follow his money anywhere. He waves it around, and tries to convince her that she should be seen with him. And he spreads wicked rumors about her."
As Finn spoke, he became more and more agitated. Dieter could see that he might have created a monster. It was time to get a handle on the situation before Finn threw himself out into the night to beat down the Dutchman's door and call him out in some sort of duel.
"You're right, Finn. He's a dirt clod compared to Roselynde. But if you want to keep this job and continue to see her, you need to calm yourself. Morning is coming soon, and the horn will be blowing. You need to get some sleep."
Finn deflated a little, and then yawned. "You're right. Can't get fired now, when I almost have her convinced that marrying me would be the best thing in the world."
Dieter was a little disappointed that Finn was asleep so quickly. He would have liked to listen to more gossip, but he didn't want to get fired either.
* * *
Before lunchtime on Monday, Roz looked up to see a group of five men entering the kitchen tent. "We're not ready for lunch yet. You'll have to go out with everyone else and wait your turn."
The group of men stopped and whispered among themselves for a moment. Then one of them stepped forward and bowed. "My name is Carl, ma'am. We're a delegation of the crew, and we've come to file a complaint. We've noticed that for the past several days, the quality of the food we've been served has not been up to company standards, if you understand my meaning."
He stopped a moment. Roselynde had nothing to say that would help.
"What I mean, ma'am, is that we aren't getting very much to eat compared to what we had before. There's still stew and bread, but the bread runs out before everyone gets some, and the soup's too thin. If we wanted to eat this kind of rations, we'd just go back to our mercenary companies."
Roselynde listened until he seemed to have run down. She forced herself to be calm. "I understand your concerns, but the supply train should have been here day before yesterday. I bought all the supplies I can from the village, but it's spring, and t
hey have as little as we do right now. If you all want something to eat for the rest of the week, we have to stretch everything."
Carl glared at her. He seemed to be trying to decide whether or not to argue, but his politeness won out. He turned on his heel and stomped back to the men's tent, with his "delegation" fluttering behind him.
* * *
Dieter was still worried. Not about Finn this time. What he worried about most was the morale of the camp. There was more grumbling, more boasting and threats. And the worst of it was that if violence broke out, it could very well be Dieter and Finn defending Roselynde against the rest of the camp. The odds were not in their favor.
* * *
Saturday night, Finn and Roselynde were walking along the finished railroad. She was brooding so deeply that she didn't notice that Finn wasn't really talking.
He finally broke the silence. "What is worrying you so?"
Roz looked up into Finn's eyes, and saw the concern there. "Oh, it's nothing I want you to get involved in. It 's just that things have gotten very complicated."
Finn nodded, but said nothing.
"You know about the supply problem. I've been cutting back on things so that I have enough until the next supply train shows up. I'm not in dire straits yet. I have the chickens out back, and they are laying lots of eggs this spring. They're finding a lot of bugs and worms and the fresh grass is helping. So even though I'm out of any fresh meat and we don't have any more sausages, I can still serve something."
Roz picked up her apron, and pressed it against her face. "I don't want to alarm anyone else, but we're not waiting for one shipment, we're waiting for two. When the supply trains come out here to the end of the line, they've been carrying steel and ties for the road, but not one barrel of food for the men."
She was sniffling hard now, and there was a catch in her voice. "And now I have almost nothing. Only one flour barrel, and we only have enough salt pork left for three more days. Arpke village has no more flour to spare without starving their children. It takes almost a ton of food to feed all four hundred of you every week. I don't know what to do." She began to sob in earnest, then turned and buried her face in his chest.
"Have you heard at all from the company? Have they said why everything is late?" Finn asked.
Roselynde's voice was muffled in his shirt. "I've only spoken to the Dutchman about it. He says that bandits are stealing things before they can get loaded on the train. I pointed out that the men cannot work without food, but he says it's not my place to worry."
Finn could feel her shudder. "That's not all he said to you, is it?"
Roselynde gulped, and got herself under control. She stepped away from Finn, and started walking again. "No, it's not. He grabbed my hand, and told me that if I really wanted to support my family, all I had to do was consent to marry him. He yelled that if I didn't, I would get what I deserved. And when I tried to pull my hand away, he became angry, and looked as if he would strike me."
She stopped walking, and turned back toward Finn. "I didn't want to tell you, as it always seems to upset you so."
Before he could say anything, she planted her hand squarely on his chest. "Now you listen to me, Finn Kelley O'Donnell. Don't even think about confronting the Dutchman. He's a wicked man and doesn't believe in a fair fight. He'll do his best to kill you."
"Don't worry about that. The Dutchman never fought in the wars, as I have. He's nothing but a back alley scrabbler. I wouldn't even need my pike to deal with him."
Roselynde whirled around suddenly, and started walking again. She was speaking as she moved. "I don't know why we're even talking about all this. Odds are that food supplies will arrive on the morning train. I'm just worrying for nothing. I worry like this all the time, with no reason at all. Don't pay any attention to me."
Her voice sped on and on, and her feet kept rhythm. "And, you know, it's not like we are really out of things. Why, for lunch tomorrow, I've found some fresh greens. That will be so wonderful after a winter of dried fruit and salted pork. It's not like either of us has to . . ."
Finn caught her hand, and stopped her headlong rush. "Don't take on so. I promise not to speak to the Dutchman about this if it will make you happy. Everything's going to be all right, I promise."
* * *
Roselynde looked up into Finn's blue eyes. Her heart fluttered as she realized for the first time how important he had become to her. "Yes, you're right. Everything will be all right. And you just remember your promise, Finn. You're not to talk to the Dutchman at all."
* * *
That evening, Finn recounted the conversation to Dieter. This had become something of a ritual. Finn enjoyed telling the events of the day, and Dieter enjoyed the romance by proxy.
When Finn came to the end of his tale, he said, "And I had to promise her again at her doorstep not to talk to the Dutchman. She knows that if I promise it, I won't talk to him. I've given my word."
Dieter sighed in relief. If Finn didn't talk to the captain, it was much more unlikely that trouble would erupt.
Unfortunately, it was a little too soon for him to be relieved. Finn swung his feet off the bunk. "Dieter, going out tonight and looking around his office isn't talking to him, is it?"
"What exactly are you planning?"
Finn picked up the candle and smiled like a wolf. "Well, now. The Dutchman's up to something, I can feel it in my bones. His office would be an interesting study, and since I promised not to talk to him, I have to look at it when he isn't there, like right now."
Dieter felt as if he were trying to hold onto moonlight. Finn dodged around him, then stopped outside the door of the tent. "You're coming, aren't you? Just to keep me out of trouble, as it were?"
* * *
The moon was dark, and the clouds were thick. It was difficult to see anything except in the open spaces. The blackness of the empty buildings was deeper than the darkness of the landscape around it. Dieter knew that appearing to sneak called attention to you, so he strolled across the yard as if he owned it.
Finn was already at the office door when Dieter arrived. "Quick, Finn. Someone will see us. Can you get it open?" Finn examined the lock, handed Dieter the unlit candle, then took a step back as if to throw himself at the offending object.
Dieter hissed. "We don't want to be heard either, you big oaf. Be quiet."
Finn nodded, then re-examined the doorknob. "This won't take but a minute." He braced himself on one side of the door jamb, and put his boot on the other side, next to the latch. He leaned back, and pushed with his foot. The building creaked and groaned like an old miser faced with the tax collector. Then the door quietly swung open. "Is that what you wanted?"
"I promised myself that I wouldn't allow you to drag me into any more trouble. How come I always find myself with you, outside an open door in the dead of night ?" Dieter asked.
"Because you're just luckier than most." Finn closed the door, then lit the candle.
"What are we looking for, do you think?"
"I'm not sure, exactly. Why don't you keep watch while I look for it?" Finn walked around to the chair, where the captain would sit to work. The Dutchman was by no means a neat accountant. Everything was strewn in heaps and piles.
When he started methodically sifting through the paperwork and books, Dieter turned his attention back to the window, and kept nervous watch.
Fifteen minutes passed by, and the search was taking longer than Dieter had planned. "Finn, aren't you done yet? Someone's going to see the candlelight, and we'll get fired for sure . . . if not worse."
Finn said, "Mmm." He wasn't really listening. "Dieter, this is very interesting. It seems that our Dutchman is part of a larger group of bandits. They smuggle the supplies off the train, and sell them to the black market. He's already gotten paid for one of the missing loads, and is arranging to sell the other this week. He seems to have it stashed somewhere in the woods nearby. I knew he was up to something."
"What does that . . . W
ait, someone's coming!" Dieter dived behind the door, and Finn blew out his candle as he slipped under the desk.
The door came open, and the Dutchman entered, carrying a shrouded lantern. He turned back to speak into the darkness. "You can't just show up here now and demand the shipment. I've got to feed these men something."
A voice sounded outside in the darkness. "That's not really my problem. I just know how many barrels of flour and salt pork are needed by my associates on the coast. And that's how many I'm taking."
There were footsteps coming toward the desk. Finn made sure that he wasn't visible and held very still. No one had seen him or Dieter yet.
The Dutchman walked over to the desk, looking for something in the mess of papers. "Give me the money now, and I'll meet you at the rendezvous before dawn."
The laugh was an evil thing. "Do you truly think I trust you that much? You'll get your silver as soon as I've counted every one of the barrels and crates you promised. Until then, you can just dangle for your money."
The Dutchman was silent for a moment. "My pipe. Where did I leave it?" He opened a drawer on the desk, and brought out his pipe and tobacco, then stomped out the door.
Dieter was just letting out his breath when they heard the key in the lock.
"Why don't we just go get my hammer and beat some sense into the Dutchman's head?" Finn asked.
Dieter peered out a window, hoping that no one else was outside. "Who knows how far up the conspiracy goes? Shouldn't we send a message to headquarters?"
"Dieter, my lad, who are we going to get to send the message? The Dutchman? We're going to have to wait until the company sends out inspectors and auditors. I think they're due some time before summer. But it's not summer yet. That's why I want to express my opinions on the Dutchman's skull tonight."
"No time for that now. It's well past the middle of the night. I think it's a miracle that we haven't been caught in here yet. We need to get back to the crew tent before we're missed. I would prefer that no one ever knew that we were here. You've got to do the thing to the door again."
* * *
Grantville Gazette Volume 25 Page 24