‘It doesn’t really belong to anybody, Pol,’ another matron assured me. ‘I live two houses down, and the place is an awful eyesore the way it is. We’ve all asked our menfolk to tear it down, but you know how men are. The best we’ve been able to get out of them is, “we’ll get around to it – someday”. I haven’t been holding my breath.’
‘We can’t just move in,’ Alara objected.
‘Why not?’ Elna asked her. ‘You need a house, and we need neighbors. The answer’s sitting right there growing moss.’ She looked around at the other ladies. I got the distinct impression that she was the local social lioness. ‘Why don’t we all talk with our husbands this evening, ladies? If Alara here wants formal permission to move into the place, we’ll just tell our menfolk to take a vote on the matter – and we’ll let them all know that they’ll get a steady diet of boiled tripe if they vote wrong.’
They all laughed knowingly at that. Never underestimate the power of the woman who runs the kitchen.
Since it was summer and the evenings were quite long, it only took Darral – and the rest of the men in town – about a week to repair the roof and the doors and windows. Then the town ladies joined Alara and me in a day of furious house-cleaning, and it was all done. We were home, and that’s always very nice.
I don’t know that I’ve ever known a town as friendly as Annath. Everyone there went out of his way to help us get settled in, and they were always dropping by ‘just to visit’. A goodly part of that was due to the isolation of the place, of course, and the hunger for news – any news – of the outside world. Then, when Darral chanced to mention the fact that I was a physician, our place in the community was secure. There’d never been a physician in town before, so now the villagers could go ahead and get sick without the danger of having home remedies rammed down their throats. A lot of home remedies actually do work, but the one thing they all have in common, whether they work or not, is their universally foul taste. I’ve never quite understood where that notion, ‘if it tastes bad, it’s good for you’ came from. Some of my remedies are actually quite delicious.
I didn’t care much for the stone-mason from Muros who came to town that fall followed by a long string of empty wagons. He behaved as if he were doing us a favor by hauling away our stone blocks. I’ve known a lot of businessmen over the years, and businessmen don’t do anything unless it’s profitable. He arrived looking bored, and he sneeringly appraised the neat stacks of stone blocks at the mouth of the quarry. Then he made his offer with a note of finality.
Darral, who knew quite a bit about business himself, was wise enough to hold his tongue until the fellow had left with his plunder. ‘Was that about what he usually offers?’ he asked the other townsmen.
‘It’s purty much what he alluz pays, Darral,’ old Farnstal replied. ‘It seemed a little light t’ us, fust time he come here, but he wint on an’ on ‘bout th’ expense o’ freightin’ all that stone back t’ Muros an’ sich, an’ then he ups an’ sez “take ‘er or leave ‘er”, an’ thar warn’t no other buyers handy, so we tuk ‘er. It’s gotten t’ be sorta like a habit, I guess. I’m a-ketchin’ a hint that y’ might think we jist got ourselves stung.’
‘I’ve bought granite blocks before, Farnstal, and that wasn’t the price I had to pay.’ Darral squinted at the ceiling. ‘Do we cut stone in the wintertime?’ he asked.
‘‘Tain’t hordly a good idee, Darral,’ Farnstal replied. ‘Th’ snow piles up fearful deep up thar on th’ top edge of the quarry, an’ a good sneeze is all she’d take t’ bust ‘er loose. A feller whut’s roped t’ that stone face could wind up apickin’ a avalanche outten his teeth if somebody happens t’ git hisself a itchy nose at th’ wrong time.’
‘Well then,’ Darral said, ‘when winter comes, I think I’ll take a little trip on down to the low country and ask a few questions about the going price of granite. We’re cutting very fine stone here, gentlemen. Are the other faces all of the same quality?’
“There’s a layer of slate up near the top of the east face,’ a hulking stone-cutter named Wilg rumbled in his deep voice. ‘We don’t waste our time with that, but the man from Muros is good enough to haul it away for us.’
‘Oh, I’m sure he is,’ Darral said sardonically. ‘And he doesn’t even charge us for the hauling, does he?’
‘Not a penny,’ Wilg replied.
‘How charitable of him. I believe I’ll take a small block of our granite and a few slabs of that slate with me when I go. I think I’d like to shop around for some prices. It might just be that next year there’ll be two or three other bidders for our stone. A little competition might teach the man from Muros the value of being truthful and honest with people.’
‘You think he’s been cheating us on the price of our granite?’ Wilg rumbled ominously.
‘It’s not just the granite, Wilg,’ Darral said. ‘Have you ever been in a town of any size?’
‘Medalia once.’
‘What were the roofs of most of the houses made of?’
‘Slate, I think it was.’ Wilg stopped abruptly, his eyes first widening and then narrowing dangerously. ‘We’ve been giving him that slate for nothing, and when he gets it back to Muros, he sells it, right?’
‘It certainly looks that way to me,’ Darral replied.
‘I wonder if I could still catch up to him,’ Wilg muttered grimly, clenching and unclenching his huge fists.
‘Don’t be a-worryin’ yerself none about it, Wilg,’ Farnstal advised. ‘He’s bin skinnin’ us fer years now, so I kin practical guarantee that he’ll come back next fall with his skinnin’ knife all sharp th’ way he alluz does. Then we’ll all be able t’ git in a lick er two at ‘im. He’ll be a-bleedin’ outta places he didn’t even know he had ‘fore he leaves.’ He cocked an eye at my nephew. ‘Yer a real handy feller t’ have around, Darral,’ he said. ‘We bin stuck back here in th’ mountings fer s’ long, we clean fergot how sivilized people acts.’ He shook his head mournfully. ‘Seems ez how bein’ honest jist ain’t in style no more back in sivilization. But I’ll tell y’ one thing fer certain sure.’