The Legend of Shorty Dawkins

[Shorty Dawkins]

   They returned to find Ezra and Brendan encouraging one of the sows to go back into the pen. Ezra had an ear of corn which he held in front of the sow, urging it forward, and Brendan was walking beside it, his hand on the sow, gently pushing it forward. With one sow back in the pen, it wasn't long before the others returned. The squeeling of the piglets drew them back more than human intervention. Lester volunteered to stay with the hogs, should the boar return, but Too-Tall said he didn't think the boar would be back soon, anyway, so there was no sense in waiting for him.
   "Don't punish yourself, Lester." Too-Tall said to his son.  "It happens to the best of us. Heck, I remember, before you were born, chasing a boar that had gotten loose for three days. The damn fool boar was a slippery one. Always stayed out of reach of my lasso. Anyway, when he got lonely for his sows, he came home.
   Let's finish saddling the horses and be on our way."
   When everyone was just about ready, Too-Tall called Ned over to him and whispered something in his ear, which made Ned laugh. He nodded yes, and, climbing on his horse said, "I'll catch up with you at the mill.". Without another word, he steered his horse towards the far end of the valley. Shorty saw the twinkle in Too-Tall's eye, and he knew something was up. No doubt, for his, and Ezra's, and Brendan's benefit. He said nothing, though he caught Brendan's eye and gave him a wink.
   Too-Tall and Annie led them off in the direction of the ridge where Too-Tall had said they would see the waterfall. They followed the stream as it meandered through fields which were planted in corn and oats. The land began to rise towards the ridge, and the field turned into, what appeared to Shorty to be, a thinned forest. As they came around a bend, Shorty could see two buildings, one on either side of the stream. Spread out around the far building, were stacks of lumber. Hmm,... Shorty thought to himself, a sawmill. He'd been around a sawmill all his life, in Upton's Corners. He'd spent many hours helping out at the Upton Sawmill. He was curious to see the equipment. He was also curious about the other building, which looked to him like a grist mill. Strange to have a sawmill and a grist mill together like this, he thought.
   "Well, I'll be damned." Ezra exclaimed. "A sawmill and a grist mill, with only one water wheel. What, do you power them both with the single wheel, Too-Tall?"
   "Yes and no, Ezra. The wheel powers both, but not at the same time. They are not both used all the time, nor do I suspect they ever will need to be. We've made it easy to disengage one and engage the other." They had reached the grist mill, and Too-Tall dismounted. "Come on inside and I'll show you."
   The mill was not a large one, capable of large scale output, but sufficient for a small community. Shorty began to realize what Too-Tall was creating in Hidden Valley. He could see, from the intricacy of the gearing, how much work and care had been put into the mill. Such a mill would not be necessary for Too-Tall and his family, Shorty realized, nor would the amount of lumber he saw stacked outside the sawmill be necessary for only Too-Tall's family needs. Obviously, from his use of the word "we" in discussing the building of the mill, Too-Tall had enlisted others in developing his retreat. No doubt the "others" were planned to be a part of it. He would let Too-Tall tell the story of Hidden Valley at his own pace, he decided.
   "Hey, Shorty! Check this out!" Brendan hollered. He had climbed down to see the gearing mechanism. "Whoever designed and built this, knew a lot about gear ratios."
   Shorty climbed down with Brendan, to take a look. Sure, enough, it was as Brendan said, careful gearing to increase the power  from the waterwheel to the stones. Not that Shorty knew much about gear ratios, but he could see the care and thought involved. Nothing was slip-shod or thrown together. Everything was built to last.

[Shorty Dawkins]

   "Nice, Uncle!" Shorty called up to Too-Tall. "This thing is built to last. You'd think this was going to be the last grist mill ever made."
   "We hope it won't be, Shorty." 
   "Did you build this yourself?" Shorty asked.
   "Ned designed it." Too-Tall told him. "He and Frank did most of the work."
   Shorty climbed back up, thinking about Ned and Too-Tall, seeing more in them than he had seen before. Whereas he had seen Ned as the outsider, being welcomed into Hidden Valley because he was kin, he realized now that Ned was a partner, and a good one. He also saw a different side to Too-Tall. He saw a man who quite matter-of-factly would give credit where credit was due.
   "How do I get over to the sawmill?" Shorty asked. "I don't know much about grist mills, but I know sawmills."
   "Through that door over there, Shorty. We built a little bridge over the stream." Too-Tall pointed to the door behind Ezra.
   The bridge offered a good look at the waterwheel, which impressed Ezra very much.
   "Did you make this wheel here? Or did you make it in pieces and erect it here?" He wanted to know.
   "Joshua Owens and his sons, Nathaniel and Matthew, did the blacksmithing work, and a bunch of folks worked on the wooden parts. It's all based on a plan drawn up by Mr. Murphy." Too-Tall explained.
   The Sawmill was very similar to the Upton Sawmill, only on a smaller scale, Shorty realized. Too-Tall admitted they tried to copy it as he remembered it. They'd made a few minor improvements, which Shorty made note of to pass on to Charlie Upton.
   "You know, Uncle, this looks familiar enough that I could start it up in my sleep."
   "Next week we're planning to cut  some more lumber. If you're up to it, we could use a good hand."
   Shorty smiled at the invitation. "I'd like that, Uncle. I really would like that."
   Too-Tall smiled his crooked smile and gave Shorty a wink. "Any time, Shorty, any time. Let's get back to the horses, there's lots more to show you folks."
   They mounted their horses again, and Too-Tall led them down the ridge, crossing the stream on a bridge he had made. As they were about to enter into the open, Shorty heard a strange, incongruous noise. Ezra and Brendan noticed it, too.
   "That can't be a banjo, can it?" Ezra exclaimed in disbelief.
   Shorty saw that Annie and Too-Tall were exchanging a grin.
   "You are about to meet Mr. Murphy." Annie laughed. "I couldn't begin to describe him, if I tried. See for yourselves." She pointed to two horses in the middle of the valley. On second look, however, it became clear that it was only one horse, which Ned was riding. The other was a donkey, ridden by a tiny little man wearing a derby hat, playing a banjo. Walking behind the donkey was the missing boar.
   As they approached, Mr. Murphy tipped his hat, saying, "Top-o'-the-mornin' to ye, lads and lassies. And a special good-mornin' to ye beautiful lassies, dear Annie and pretty Polly. Tis a fine mornin'. I bring you a song in my heart, and a wayward boar. I beg you to pardon him his transgressions, as he was startled when poor Lester fell in the mud.
   Aye, and who be these rustic looking strangers I see with ye. Will I be gettin' an introduction from ye, Mr. Too-Tall Dawkins."
   "Mr. Murphy, if you'll let me get a word in edgewise, I'll introduce you to my rustic friends, as you call them. These two fellows on the left, here, are from Hardyville, Ezra Lyons and Brendan McCarty."
   "Tis a pleasure and an honor to be meetin' you both." Mr. Murphy exclaimed, tipping his hat to them. "If memory serves me, I believe I passed through Hardyville in '98. Does that old coot, Bud, still serve bad food at the diner?"
   Ezra and Brendan had to laugh at that one. "Yes, sir, Mr. Murphy. If you can wait long enough. Old Bud doesn't move too fast, as you might recall." Ezra said, giving a nod of welcome to Mr. Murphy.
   "He's probably selling the same food he was trying to peddle when you visited Hardyville." Brendan said, with a wink and a smile.
   "Aye laddies, there be some good folk in this land who, if I'm not being too harsh on them, have little or no speed in their movements. No, the Leprechauns must have cursed them, poor fellows." Mr. Murphy looked at Shorty, then. "And who is this large man, I'm askin' ye, who resembles our friend Too-Tall Dawkins. Might he be a relative, mayhaps?"
   "This is my nephew, Shorty Dawkins. He's my brother Lester's boy."
   "I'll be tellin' ye, Shorty Dawkins, it is a real pleasure to be meetin' a relative of Too-Tall Dawkins, no matter how tall ye are."
   "And I'm glad to finally meet you, Mr. Murphy." Shorty leaned down from his horse to take Mr. Murphy's hand in his. "They tell me you can talk to the animals. That's not surprising, seeing you're Irish. It must be the blarney. Either that, or you have help from the Leprechauns."
   "Aye, lad, most likely a bit of both, though ye left out the good Irish Whiskey. There be times when the critters make more sense than people ever do." Mr. Murphy gave him a wink, then turned to Too-Tall. "So, Mr. Too-Tall Dawkins, are ye showin' the Valley to these folks? And can we get on with it now? Delilah is wanting some exercise."
   "What about Goliath?" Too-Tall asked, looking at the boar.
   "He can come along with us, if there be none who object. He's promised to be good."
   "All right, then. If you'll play a tune on that banjo, we can be on our way.