Aaron took the next few days to rest up. He probably wouldn't have been able to get much work done anyway. Bolt hadn't been wrong; the town was wild for two days. A lot of drinking and fighting – and a lot of music, too. Even in the rain.
He did venture out a few times, only to be challenged to fight several times, and mocked when he chose to walk away. What victory was there in knocking down a man too drunk to walk? What would make such an act be bravery instead of cowardice? Whether it did or didn't mess up his clothes.
Why were so many men in the community so fixed on his clothes? A businessman – a business OWNER – should look like one, in both dress and manner. THAT was one lesson he had thoroughly learned.
Well, he might – might – go in for a different style of working clothes, especially for oiling machinery and being around spraying (was that the word. spewing?) sawdust, once the logs started coming in. He might go for rougher, but they would still be of good material and they would fit properly.
For installing the machinery, he needed men with discipline and experience and an understanding of mechanics and how things worked together. Things he himself understood mostly from books, but was eager to learn with his hands, back, and body. He could, and would, learn.
When the party was over. And the installers (for lack of a better word) arrived with their skilled teams.
Even Mack agreed with the need for them.
The third morning, there was silence from the streets.
Aaron was relieved. He was tired of his own cooking, and of portable foods at that.
He headed for Lottie's for a decent breakfast.
The town looked worse than it had sounded, as impossible as that seemed. Broken wheels, broken wagons, broken chairs. Feed and waste from the livery was strewn through the streets, the waste used to purportedly fill in increasingly larger mudholes gouged into the so-called street. The smithy looked to be in good shape. But of course that equipment was weighty, and couldn't be moved far without sober teamwork.
Disgusting. It was all disgusting.
Disappointing, too. Customers would not come to a place like this that looked and smelled the way this place did. They probably wouldn't mind overnighting above Lottie's, or eating there since the food was excellent, but they wouldn't come back.
As their host, he could hardly go to them for the next sale when he should be supervising, if not doing the work, on theirs and other orders. They would need to come to him, at least from time to time.
Something would have to be done.
But what and by whom? And how?
Aaron scraped the mud and muck off his shies before entering Lottie's.
This morning's crowd was subdued. Not that that was unusual in the morning. It just seemed moreso since the last few days.
There were about half as many 'regulars' than usual.
Of course, the four Bolts were there. They seemed to eat there as often as he did when he was boarding there.
Interesting. Based on appearances, he wouldn't have thought they could afford it. If Aaron hadn't seen both Jonathan and Jason paying Lottie, he would have suspected her of giving charity, and they of accepting it, even though neither of the older Bolts seemed the type to behave that way.
(Maybe Lottie snuck the money back to them in the younger two's pockets?)
They didn't seem in a very good mood this morning. Joshua was shoveling his breakfast in as fast as he could, so he could head off to school as soon as possible. The little one had a fork in one hand. He was holding on to Jason's sleeve with the other. His back was to Aaron, so he couldn't read his expression, but his body language spoke tension. Jason looked miffed, and Jonathan was looking like a stern father. Aaron certainly knew that expression well enough – his father could have patented it.
Lottie brought him coffee and greeted him, checking on what he would be eating, and also if he was going to be moving out or not. Not that she needed the room now that The Run was over. The next one would be smaller but would probably take longer.
"How often do these 'runs' happen?"
"When there are orders," Lottie answered unhelpfully.
"When will the next one be?"
"When Beakham's gets here. Two-three weeks."
"Beakham's? The shipbuilders?"
"Yes. They are expecting, I think, 120 piles. Isn't that right, Jonathan?" Piles were tall straight logs.
"Aye."
"Jon's letting them work his mountain for the Douglas firs. BridalVeil has the best and easiest stands."
His mountain? HIS mountain? Aaron started to be angry, but made an effort to be relaxed. No wonder the man had been so sure of the owner not selling.
Jonathan Bolt's eyes twinkled at Aaron's change of expression.
"That would be the mountain near my properties?" Aaron asked.
"It would. I'd better get your breakfast." Lottie didn't know what had changed the mood, and wasn't sure she wanted to know. Aaron had gone blank, and Jonathan was looking more cheerful. Good lord!
"I'm done," Josh announced, pushing his plate away, removing his napkin, and wiping his hands and lips. "Can I go now?"
"Take your brother with you."
"NO!" Jeremy clutched at Jason with both hands.
Josh strolled to the door, reached it, and took off running.
"I'm not arguing with you, Da. You don't need to send him away." Jason pulled Jeremy into his lap.
"He's going to have to have schooling sooner or later, son. You both know your mother wanted that."
"Yes, we know. We've talked about it, haven't we, Jeremy? He's going to try again, once we get the new clothes. Right, young 'un?"
Jeremy nodded. "T-try ag-gain. N-nex' t-time."
"Term." Jason corrected. "In the meantime, since you won't let me work, even on our own trees, I'm going to work with him on lessons. That way, he won't be dumb to start."
"Might be better off if he was," the father said mildly. "In the usual sense of the word, not the intellectual one."
"He's neither one," Jason snapped.
"I know this, Jason. And I am sorry that you do not understand my reasons for keeping you here, but I want you to be available when I get the message that the clothing is ready. Although after all this time, tis a wonder we haven't had to start wearing the bedsheets. It has taken her much longer than I expected."
"It was a lot of clothes." Jason's lips twitched at the mental image of he and Da wearing bedsheets through the streets of mud. The boys, too, but boys were expected to do goofy things. "If we had a telegraph, you could be nagging her every day instead of me. Or I could go and check up on her and bring back what she has got done."
"It may come to that. Another reason for you to not commit to a job."
"I can see that." Jason sighed. "I don't want to, but I can. What would it take to get the telegraph? Do you know?"
"Poles, wires, and a telegrapher – and a place for it. Lottie wants nothing to do with it. Says she doesn't need anyone else underfoot all day. Canna imagine whom she might mean."
Jason threw back his head and laughed. He put Jeremy back in his own chair. "Eat up, boy. You're safe for today." He tousled the boy's hair. "Shouldn't be too hard to put a shack together for the telegraph. Or even a cabin with living quarters as well as the wire. It'd all cost, though, wouldn't it?"
"That it would. And we're still waiting to build a proper schoolhouse and a better dock, among other things."
Hmm, Aaron thought. So, there were, or had been, plans, of a sort to turn this place into a real, functioning town. He wondered why he hadn't heard any of this before, and contemplated the table across from him.
Whose plans, he wondered, and why were they not being implemented? Even expenses could be got around, for the most part. They had put up plenty of buildings as it was; surely they could continue to do so?
Lottie brought the coffeepot around and refilled cups.
Baby Bolt went face first into his bowl, and jerked back up, alarmed eyes widening.
Father Bolt clicked his tongue and wiped the boy's face with a napkin. "You are supposed to sleep before breakfast, Wee One, not at it." His tone was gently chiding.
The boy's lips trembled as he tried to speak, but the father put a finger across them.
"Would ye be liking Jason to take you home and clean you up?"
The boy scowled before nodding, and Jason was standing and scooping him up.
"Jason thinks that's a good idea," Jason declared. He winked at his father. "We might even sneak in a little nap, so don't be noisy when you come in, Da."
"Make it little, or we'll be having a repeat of last night."
"Not if we both keep our mouths shut." Jason shifted the boy in his arms and they left.
"Is everything alright, Jon?" Lottie asked.
He shook his head slightly. "Jason and I were having an argument last night and woke the boy, and he couldnae go back to sleep. Twas no calming him, save Jason."
"So they'll both be taking naps?"
"Twill make it easier to not argue again tonight." He sighed and picked up his coffee cup. "I hope."
"Or the two of you could learn to argue without shouting and waking the boys."
"We try, but tis nae in us. At least not yet."
"Have you had enough breakfast for today?"
"Aye." He began stacking dishes for her, but she took them from him and carried them back herself.
Jonathan Bolt sat down, ran his hands through his hair and buried his face in his hands.
Hmm, thought Aaron. Did he dare – he had questions – would Mr. Bolt? Should he? "Mr. Bolt," he found himself asking, "could I speak with you?" What the devil was wrong with him? He never spoke impulsively. Words mattered.
Jonathan looked up. "Aye," he agreed, gesturing at the table."I owe you an explanation."
Aaron hesitated. "If you don't mind," he finally agreed, sitting down in the chair that Josh had used.
"My wife is buried on that mountain. I'll not be selling it. At the time, I did not wish to be making explanations. Seeing it with you that day – it was painful."
"I see," Aaron said. Of course, that could change in the future.
Couldn't it?
Jonathan gestured again. "Mr. Stempel, my sons and I took up residence in this town less than two weeks before your own arrival."
"I thought you were a town father."
"Of the area, not necessarily the town. We have always lived on the was our home – until – When we came to town, we would stay with the MacKenzies."
"Oh."
The older man changed the subject. "You are planning to stay here?"
"If it's fiscally possible."
Jonathan Bolt smiled. "You've already invested a great deal."
"My plans are to remain here. This is a prime location."
"It is. But–?"
"It's not really a town. Yet."
"No, tis little more than wagon camps and wanderers. I saw you listening while we were speaking of plans. Have you any thoughts?"
"Oh, I have plenty of thoughts."
Jonathan chuckled. He was liking this young man more and more. "Where would you start?"
"Two things. Why haven't you done any of the building you spoke of?"
"And the other? You said two things."
"You – we –" (his correction caused a smile) "- need some rules."
"Such as?"
"Mr. Bolt, how well have your boys been able to sleep these last several days?"
"Not well, with the fights and the singing – if you can call it that. Otherwise, I would be more seriously concerned with Jason taking an after breakfast nap." He laughed at his own little joke.
Aaron waited him out. He wasn't certain what was funny, so he wouldn't (fake) laugh. But he didn't want to be rude, either, so he managed a smile.
When Aaron didn't speak, Jonathan asked, "Have you thoughts on this?"
Aaron thought over his answer. "Nothing productive."
Jonathan laughed again. This young man had a core of honesty, it seemed. He knew something of tact, and he could be focused. "Give it some thought, then, and let me or Mack know when you've some idea of how to proceed."
"I was wondering about that. The other night, there were five of you distributing money. So you have some – structure?"
"Structure. A good word, that. Yes, we have leaders. Mack and I are the youngest of these. I hope that my boys are taking an interest. The future of this squat is for them."
"Why do you call it a squat? Do you not have legal ownership of your lands?"
"In the government – our government's eyes, yes. I dinnae think the natives would agree, but we have mostly peaceful dealings with them. There are many tribes through here, and there are always hotheads among men, red or white, or any other color that may come along. I called it a squat because too much of the settlement is impermanent. MacKenzies farm is, and our cabin, and the block of houses over yonder where the widows are, and Lottie's are the only permanent buildings. Look at what those drifters did to the livery and the trading post. The only reason the smithy wasn't destroyed was because everything is either hot or heavy, and often both."
"Why haven't you put up permanent buildings? You have all the wood and stone you could possibly need."
"Twas in our plans, when we first planned on moving to town; while I was building our cabin here. We didna think she would survive another winter alone on the mountain – the one just past was too much for her, for both of them, really, and we were worried about the little one, especially since we had thought to start him in school. I would bring Joshua for the schooling, work on the place by the day, and we would go home of an evening. Jason stayed with the two, except the times I let him take a job that wouldnae take him too far away for too long. That has chafed him, and does so now. I stayed home at those times, and Joshua missed his schooling. He was most unhappy with that."
"You had to change your plans." All this unasked for personal information!
"Many times, in these last 25 weeks and six days," Jonathan agreed, then grinned. "Besides, you got all the timber we'd been working on saving for winter construction."
"Oh." Aaron should have figured that out. Shouldn't he have?
Jonathan Bolt suddenly stood. "I must ask you to excuse me now. I have things to attend to."
"Oh. Thank you for letting me ask questions." Aaron also stood, then watched thoughtfully as the man walked away. He had business to attend to as well.