McGucket was fast asleep, guarding the locomotive with a large blunderbuss in his arms, nestled inside the cab. It was, after all, rather late, and the erratic engineer had spent most of the day assembling the giant kit of parts like an old man with a train set. Which was pretty close.
The ringing cellphone went unheard; Fiddleford had dropped it at some point while assembling the engine and hadn't noticed. It was probably sitting inside the boiler, or caught in a grate, or stuck in the valve gear. Somewhere among the thousands of parts.
It wouldn't have changed things even if it was in his pocket, mind.
A history of living in a pig farm, in the junkyard, or in a pig farm he had built in the junkyard had made McGucket a particularly heavy sleeper. He was not easily stirred by even the most persistent uproar - so the pleasant jingle-jangle of his phone's ringtone - 97 green-ish balloons - acted more as a lullaby for the old man. Even when it was echoing from deep within the bowels of a big, shiny iron horse...
The Pines stood around the cellphone in anticipation.
"He's not answering. Should I leave a voicemail?" Dipper asked.
"Dude, has anybody, like, ever checked their voicemail?" Soos piped in, having just replaced the lightbulb down in the basement, and now releasing the excess pressure from the radiators, as if he had never stopped being a repairman. "Those things are time capsules. My cell still has messages from last year."
The jovial janitor illustrated his point by dialling his voicemail and popping his cellphone on speaker.
"Soos, uh, turns out my great-niece and great-nephew are comin' over ta stay, now uh - I don't know anythin' about kids so I'm gonna need you to get like, whatever kids are into. I also need a few packages sent over the border. Up in the attic room, there's a box of eighty thousand counterfeit-"
"Turn it off, Soos." Stan interrupted.
"Yes, Sir!" He beamed, almost completely oblivious to the fact he had almost exposed Stan's 2012 Malamute Milk Hustle.
"I guess we'll have to try again tomorrow, right?" Mabel said, giving a shrug of her shoulders.
"They'll be getting the engine ready very early in the morning, sweetie," Ford replied, gravely. "We may not have the window of time we need. The moment it has a fire in it, there's a problem."
"Welp." Stan huffed, cracking his back. "Guess we gotta get ourselves to the train station bright an' early, huh? I mean what, we talkin' eight? Nine?"
"Four AM. Maybe five. According to my research, it takes hours to get these things ready to move anywhere.."
"I'm out," Stan said, without hesitation. He promptly began trudging upstairs. "Sorry kids, I ain't gettin' outta bed that early unless there's a hefty profit on it. Or to escape the government."
Things fell quiet. Everybody was now staring at Ford with an eyebrow raised. Waddles didn't exactly have eyebrows, but still seemed to pierce the old man with a cold, judgemental stare. Ford was never particularly fond of pigs (a secret he kept from his family, much like his love of 70s Europop,) and that tiny, button-eyed, unblinking glare gave him the heebie-jeebies.
While he was never the most social creature, he had gained enough cognition this summer to know when the kids really, really didn't want to do something. He cleared his throat and rubbed his neck, making a show of glancing at his watch. "I suppose it is getting rather late. Perhaps I can see to this by myself, eh?"
"Thank god." Pacifica said, her nose wrinkled in disgust. "I need my beauty sleep."
"No you don't," Dipper smirked, poking her arm. "Leave some for the rest of us."
Pacifica snorted and punched him in the shoulder playfully, adjusting her hair and trying to hide the pink tone creeping over her cheeks. "Charmer."
"So… we aren't going to meet up at 5AM?" Kevin asked. "I can do that."
"Well, you'd be welcome to come along." Ford laughed, reaching out to ruffle Kevin's pompadour. Kevin immediately stepped out of reach, holding his prominent hair protectively.
"I'll be useful! I can wrestle a bear and can hold my breath underwater for four minutes."
"Quite a talent." Ford smirked. "Sure, why not. If you get permission."
"...I gotta get permission?"
"Your father's fist is larger than my head. I don't fancy that wrath if he feels like I'm leading you astray."
"Pft." Kevin smirked, waving the concern away. "He's a pussycat really."
Ford scoffed at the idea of the town's testosterone-fuelled monolith being anything other than intimidating; he remembered him as the already distinctly outsized 'Boyish' Dan Corduroy and still finding him more than a little - uh - intense.
Mabel, however, nodded enthusiastically. "He's gonna be an amazing grandpappy one day!"
Kevin choked on his own spit and stared, wide-eyed, at Dipper and Pacifica. They just shrugged while trying to stifle their laughter. Ford blinked and raised an eyebrow, deciding then and there that it was time to intervene.
"I'd prefer to wait all the same, Kevin." He smiled awkwardly, walking Kevin to the door. "Maybe later in the day, eh?"
"Fine. But you better hope there isn't a flood!" Kevin retorted. Half jokingly - and half eager to prove himself useful to Ford, who he was pretty sure was officially the coolest old man ever. "You better call me if I'm needed, and - and look after Mabel! And-"
"Call me!" Mabel barked.
"I'll call you the moment I'm out of the car park!" Kevin replied, peering around the closing door.
"Why would you wait that long?!"
"I've gotta find my phone!"
"Find it faster!"
Click.
Ford closed the door and sighed, rolling his shoulders and trying to think of his most tactful opportunity to bring up a difficult subject. He turned to his great-niece, his hands enrobing eachother, awkwardly. "Mabel, I appreciate this boy is really important to you, but-"
"Grunkle Ford, I'm not some flighty, love-obsessed jerk." Mabel scoffed, her hands on her hips. "I know you prefer to keep these investigations a secret, you top secret - uh - secret man!"
"In case you haven't noticed, Grunkle Ford, mysteries aren't just a Pines franchise now." Pacifica said. "He's been pretty helpful - hell, he brought all of the maps and stuff."
"Plus, I mean - Kevin's a Corduroy." Dipper protested. "They're all tough as nails."
"Yeah!" Mabel added. "And he's a really well polished, shiny nail!"
"I have plenty of faith in him," Ford replied. "But I also know that Dan's immensely protective of his family and paranoid to a fault. Try and teach Kevin to keep his head down, and be a little bit more… of an observing presence, maybe?"
Mabel pouted. "Fiiiiine. But only because I don't wanna ruin his hair."
"Whatever excuse you need."
"So what, we're just fine to get hurt, huh?" Pacifica asked with a wry smile. "Are you trying to get rid of us? I know Dipper's a bit messy, but-"
"You've already proven yourselves. And are already our responsibility." He replied, firmly, his shoulders still slightly arched. After all, we're your family, and-"
"Not officially." The Northwest heir interrupted.
" And we've agreed to look after you." He continued. "I'm fairly sure Dan would be somewhat reluctant to let the Corduroys get overly involved in mutant coal with- with some kind of kamikaze complex."
Mabel huffed. "… fine, I guess. But I'm sure Kevin could beat up even a giant coal golem!"
"Coalem?" Dipper asked.
Pacifica smiled. "Hey, that's pretty good."
"Way better than Boggle!" Mabel beamed. "M-my brother's a total genius!"
The kids soon dropped the matter when faced by the distraction of Coalems - but they were spooked. It was only a shame that, save the very obvious glares of disbelief, Stanford wasn't particularly good at reading children. To him, they seemed perfectly adjusted…
He barely registered how quiet they were when they went to bed, or how Pacifica seemed to hug Dipper tighter than usual, or how Mabel's pupils were like pindots now that Kevin was gone.
Instead, he simply smiled and set his watch's alarm to go off at 4AM that morning. He was happy, at least, that the conversation didn't have to be stretched into some kind of tedious drama. After all, there was only so much left of Summer - and he was determined to end it on a high note.
Simply politely explain the issue to McGucket, postpone for a day or two while he gets a truckload of fresh coal, brick up the mines and all's well that ends well. A perfectly stacked house of cards…
Though, hopefully, much less fragile.